The initial inspiration of air by a newborn is followed by squalling, an outcry of outrage by the infant. No surprise, yanked from the warmth and safety of the womb into a very often cruel and thankless world. I did not want to be here! But this first self-expression is music to mother’s ears. And for many that breath leads to further inspiration – which is, after how many describe inhalation. We know that it can be intoxicating; genius acts on it in the arts and perhaps never as movingly encompassing others than through music, whatever the genre. A visit to the museum cannot rival a concert where an entire audience is in thrall.

The slimster, upon marking the onset of yet another year, the fact that should he stop shaving now he could play Santa in December, the once glorious reddish facial foliage is now pure white, waxed philosophical with the better half as the year waned. Retrospective introspection ruled, musically at least. Influenced by the lists of those who passed in 2022, never to perform or record again. Thankfully, due to the last on vinyl, disc or online (who knows how long that will last, clever people will figure out how to beam tunes straight to your otic tympani in no time, one wagers) great music will never die.

The slender one bemoaned the loss of Riho Sibul in late November. Riho was Estonian music nobility, nay a veritable guitar god known best for his work with Ultima Thule, for these ears perhaps the best band of an era. We all have our opinions, it is like the Stones versus the Beatles debate, but no one can deny that Ultima Thule had a seminal impact. The lean machine recalls the first time he heard an Ultima Thule recording. Unforgettable. Another first was meeting the great musician. A very approachable though at times reserved man (like most Estonians), hardly your vain and bombastic rock star. It was in Estonia that we first shared a short conversation. Upon finding out that he was talking with a frustrated axeman Sibul gave encouragement, though warning that in adulthood it is much more difficult to master the instrument.

Well, what could the splinter do but agree? Age does have a way of getting in the way. Never mind being the beneficiary of piano lessons in childhood, loving to sing, fiddling on a brinksmanship level with many an instrument, guitar licks just did not materialize. Strumming, rhythm guitar was the best that one forlorn scrawny wannabe could manage. Yet there was a definite bond with the instrument. The calluses are long gone but the portability of a six string was great. One cannot take a piano on the Yonge bus.

Sibul was also the first top tier musician who has moved on to musical Valhalla that the gracile guy has met, talked to, shared musical opinions. Not a first to enjoy, frankly. To alleviate the loss many a CD has been listened to. Ultima Thule’s blues-rock was marked by patriotic and humorous lyrics; often drawing from old Estonian folk traditions By this is meant regilaul (our version of reggae). A classic and a huge favourite is Liivimaa pastoraal (Livonian pastoral), lyrics, vocals and scorching guitar work all by Sibul.

Sibul was multifaceted. His jazz work with the Estonian Dream Big Band is one confirmation. Playing with that all-star group he was joined by Ultima bandmate percussionist Toomas Rull, also in the pantheon of musical greats. That merits more than one listen. The CD that has received the most play after the 20th of November has been the patriotic collaboration of Siiri Sisask and Ultima Thule, Mis maa see on (What land is this). The lyrics for this rock cantata were written by a true aristocrat, Peeter Volkonski, descendant of the Keila- Joa vürst (prince). Yet another musical great, also one with whom the slimster has hobnobbed, even downing pints with him at the Madison across from Tartu College. Met him in Keila as well, his historic fiefdom.

Many great musicians were and are still performing in their eighties, even nineties. Consider but ragtime great Eubie Blake, long gone now, but vigorously entertaining at a very high age. Blake lived to be 96 years old.

Alas, that was not Riho Sibul’s lot. He passed at the age of 64, having certainly many more productive years left, but illness and death wait for no man. Death is the only first that does not produce an encore, further performances. RIP Riho Sibul, you are missed and will be for years to come. Thank God for your recordings.

OTEPÄÄ SLIM

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