The slender one has recently encountered a curious popular expression that has to do with social lubrication. Some people actually make lists of others that they “would like to have a beer with”. Most often prominent and interesting, seldom though the type of individuals that one would have, say, a pitcher or two with. Usually debatable choices.
Or better yet, should one not spend an evening in a serious saun (wood-fired, in the wilderness, in winter, a hole chopped in the iced-over lake for the necessary head-clearing immersion, man, nothing better than that…)? With the required re-hydration consisting of copious servings of quality barley sandwiches. That would be the lean machine’s ideal place to get to know someone.
Mihkel Raud would not have appeared on either of these lists up until the gracile guy picked up his book Ühes väikses Eesti linnas (In a small Estonian town, published in 2022). Raud, for the popular music non-cognoscenti, is quite the character. Bitten by the guitar bug at a very young age, born into an interesting family (parents Eno Raud and Aino Pervik, both authors of wonderful imaginative children’s books) Raud is perhaps the Estonian Simon Cowell. In that he is similar to the British arrogant buffoon in the self-centered entitled category. With a significant difference. Raud actually is a very good musician who also knows rock history through and through.
His first book, published in 2008, Musta pori näkku (Dirty – or black – mire/mud in your face) was a best seller. The splinter read it and could not understand why it was thus. Perhaps, because as the title indicates, it is the filthiest book ever published in the lovely Estonian language. We know all the words, the f-bombs and the scatological, copulative (not copulatory) adjectives and other such verbs. So why did they have to be used in such profusion? Dilutes their impact and effect. Give that book a pass.
But Raud surprises with this memoir. He writes exceedingly well, knows how to turn a phrase just as well as ripping off a riff. Although his arrogance is hard to couch he sometimes shows genuine streaks of humanity, compassion. The Cowell comparison was used because as of Estonia’s imitative reality “talent search” show, Eesti otsib superstaari, where Raud grabbed attention as a snarky and abrasive judge. Blowing one’s own horn is common among the talented but one needs to keep the forte fortissimos at bay. Fortunately, with this book he mostly manages to keep his ego in check. Mostly.
The title of the book entranced this Nuustaku lad. For the book is named after a wonderful song focusing on Otepää, made famous by the band Noor Eesti. At a very precocious age this was Raud’s favourite popular song. The YouTube video was a delight to find – one can recognize Estonia’s winter capital city from old, pre-war, pre independence photographs and paintings. Lipuväljak, Maarja kirik, linnamägi, the main square and church are easily recognized, as is the hill that is shaped like a bear’s head and gave the town its name. Linnamägi was also the base for the fortress of ancient Estonians defending the country from the nasty invaders bringing Christianity by the sword. As the lyrics confirm, being in Otepää is a wonderful experience forever to be cherished. And it is from here that Raud sets off on his journey of memories, guitars somehow purchased, Western vinyl acquired at great cost during the idiotic Soviet economy, concerts attended, superstars of the rock world heard and met. Fascinating, written with panache and verve.
Raud pays homage to the grand old man of Estonian popular music - classical, jazz and pop composer and author Valter Ojakäär. His “Popmuusikast” spans the genre from Joseph Lanner to Gunnar Graps. Like Raud’s copy the slimster’s has been read until it resembles a cabbage, as we say. And dare one anticipate that someday Raud’s latest might hold the same status?
Among Raud’s guitar heroes are two undeniable greats. This failed axeman born abroad agrees: Jaanus Nõgisto and Andres Põldroo. Raud makes the claim that Põldroo’s solo on Rock Hotel’s Aeg meid muutnud on (time has changed us) is the best such ever recorded in the annals of Estonian rock. Leaving, of course, open the live category, which is an entirely different animal. The long list of concerts attended by the developing rock star is formidable indeed, and mention is made of many unforgettable appearances.
We must include Raud’s band Mr. Lawrence on this list. Recorded in 1994 in Sweden, “Annabel” is perhaps their best-known hit. “Moonchild”, also recorded in the Stockholm sessions is a not a rocker but an introspective, rather ethereal composition.
This is a book not to be missed. A marvelous memoir, showing serious literary chops. Make sure that you have your device nearby, for in every chapter, almost every page there is a musical reference that will send you off to visit YouTube, to hear a song that perhaps has been forgotten but is still valid and wonderful decades later. Most delightfully extending the pleasure of the reading experience.
Mayhaps the slimster, next time back in the ancestral homeland will use his few remaining, aging musical contacts to reach Mr. Raud. Offer to buy him a beer at the Otepää Karupesa (Bear’s den, - curiously also the name of an interesting British alt-folk band!) Hotel bar. Then invite him to partake in a slice of pizza at the nonpareil Oti Pubi off Lipuväljak, quite possibly also washed down with a good dark pint. Who knows what stories he might tell then? It could very well be that he is not entirely the smug and supercilious superstar rocker, riding his coat-tails of past success when judging the new faces on the Estonian popular music stage. Ühes väikses linnas, who knows? No better place…
