The pandemic age has led the slimster to plenty of reflection. Solitude and death will do that to you. Apologies for mentioning that reality. Jack Spratt - you know, the one who ate no fat - looked back at 2022 once again and realized that his last two musings were about death and dying. First an obituary in the local rag triggered pondering over what song should be sung at one’s dirge. Then the loss of Riho Sibul when he should have had many more years on the stage of life.
While searching for happier music recently a John Prine disc practically begged to be listened to. And another musical journey was returned to, one broken when Prine became the first prominent North American musician to succumb to Covid. Pre-vaccine, no matter what one’s opinion of getting jabbed or not might be. (He was honored with his song “Souvenirs” played as the opening song on CBC Radio One’s year-end show in 2020, noting who from the musical world had passed, not necessarily falling victim to Covid.
T’was a loss, for Prine certainly had a way with words. His Grammy winning CD The Missing Years addressed in the title song Jesus’ early life, before his ministry, not in a sacrilegious manner but with wit and sly humour. Then there was the classic album Sweet Revenge. A must-listen for tunes such as “Dear Abby” and “Christmas in Prison”.
Prine co-founded Oh Boy records, an indication of his sense of humour. His early work had oodles of social commentary, elements of protest, not surprising as his career began in the 1970’s. However, what caught the gracile guy’s ears back then was his way with a simile. The classic example is to be found on the above-mentioned Missing Years disc, with “It’s A Big Old Goofy World”. To be found on YouTube, natch. Simile after simile, from being quiet as a mouse, eating like a horse, and being cute as a dish while drinking like a fish. You get the idea. And yes, the mollusk in the title of this philosophical rambling – how do you determine whether it is even content? The beauty of words, of metaphors, alliteration and allegory. Prime Prine was at his utmost best with his wordplay. Confirming a love of the language. As the song “Often Is a Word I Seldom Use”, also on Sweet Revenge, proves rather well.
All this thinking, a dangerous practice, led to musing as to whether Estonian popular music has or had a Prine, or not. Or at least somebody with such a sense of humour that it takes a bit of time to realize the fact. A case may be made for Kolumbus Kris. Their titles alone make you smile, the thundering blues chords backing some sly lyrics. ”Eesti aja järgi on kolm (The time in Estonia is three o’clock) makes allusions to the Soviet-era newscasts, both radio and TV where Moscow time was deemed to be their GMT. Must note Pastacas, a delight not always due to the lyrics but for his clever instrumentals. Makes one smile. Then Zetod. Their Lätsi sanna (Sauna time!) album also has both ingredients.
But Heavens to Murgatroyd, a Snagglepuss fan was befuddled, not to say surprised and dismayed. This grumpy cat, wanting to be happy, could not come up with a single popular music Estonian artist that would even equal Prine. Sure, there have been flashes of brilliance, but our people are more likely to be prone to introspection rather than publicly sly and witty. Jaan Tätte does have a way with words, but rather than produce a smile one ponders existence. Tõnu Raadik – ditto.
So had to go with a subgenre - pilalaulud, and its offshoot, sõdurilaulud. The first poke fun, are pranksterish, the second were sung by the grunts in the ranks to raise their mood when heading to battle. Soldiers, faced with the impermanence of life do have quite the sense of humour. Often black, often lewd and crude, even vulgar. As are some of the mocking songs.
And a champion was found, who, alas has not been with us for some time. The great Olaf Kopvillem noodled his vindilised viisid, twisted songs on piano with lyrics that always brought a smile. Kopvillem’s choice of words was always appropriate, his gentle melodies demanded attention. Just think of a peaceful pastoral idyll about a cow on a quiet evening, grazing, preparing for cud chewing and not wanting to go to sleep. Takes a special form of inspiration to come up with that kind of theme. Just as suggesting a bivalve might be blissfully unaware of life outside of its shell.
There is your secret recipe for our times. Follow Prine’s and Kopvillem’s advice. Also Johnny Mercer’s who asks us to eliminate the negative and accentuate the positive. Easy to do if you are a clam or a bovine. Not so much for a biped. If not, singing, even humming is a sure-fire recipe to elevate the spirits, beat the winter blues.
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