•
Rating:
A fortunate coincidence to have a chat with Joel Tammik, a tireless traveler, a rising star in the European Ambient scene, and a dreamer not at all disillusioned. I decided to keep my silly questions, even though as the interview progressed, the answers painted a completely opposite, almost spiritual picture. I left them as they were, in their blatant contrast, also because in the end, Joel and I are more alike than I've tried to deny, with my frankly insufferable personality, in an eternal parody of myself, and in a parody of the fear of this army of broken mirrors that is the people.
"Eluline" was one of the albums I listened to the most when I needed it: with some, it took me a bit more time, while with others I would quickly fall asleep. By the way, don't take it badly, Joel, but it always seems like the same ambiance to me; maybe in "Eluline" there's a stronger call to the sea, but I say it just to show off. In short, I'd like to tell you that "Eluline" is my sleeping pill of the year: with a truly miserable life while awake, I always take it as a compliment. In this case, the miserable ambient listener is someone who understands a bit about music; his high intelligence quotient pushes him to seek his opposite, due to a strange compensation theory, in super chill-out clubs where you can pick up some high-level stoned girl. Listening to a soporific song right from the title, "Ilula", with its flat-line beat, stimulates him to meditate until 5 in the morning: the ambient type, in his intelligence, tries to blame such a desire on reviewing the fate of his behind, not so much on the massive use of drugs but on their quality. And here comes the question: on a scale from one to ten, how much are you a beach type?
"Eluline" is more of a record I made for myself. The idea was clear from the start, simply to create something that I liked and that brought me pleasure in listening to. Something that would take me away from the bad noise of everyday city life. There's a very strong feeling in all of this, constantly recalling summer, but living a cold and dark winter day, that's somewhat the secret. When I held the record in my hand for the first time, summer had already arrived, so another circle was closed.
On a scale from one to ten, I would undoubtedly say ten, but more as a man of the sea. I live about 1000 meters from the beach. I could never imagine my life in a place where I couldn't find the sea or a river next to me. I would probably dry up. Mentally, I mean.
Around six, the ambient type finds himself in one of the hundreds of smoky clubs where he sobers up with more or less pain depending on the quality of the night just passed. In the young man's head, the slow rhythm of a song still spins, with a pulled-out rustle that lengthened his high. And here's the question: on a scale from one to ten, how much do you support euthanasia for hopeless people?
I don't particularly like smoky bars, nightclubs, and so on. I always prefer to walk in nature, as far away from the city as possible. Most of the time you find me in the village, where I live, breathe, and so on. I've always thought that my best time is spent in my studio, the place where I can feel happy.
There are no hopeless people, there is always hope.
At eleven, the ambient type sips a coffee and swims in it, the tic-tac rhythm of "Uskuma" starts, then the rhythm becomes unstressed and when it becomes granulated, the drugs hit him all at once and he drowns in the coffee. But here no question comes. With the syncopated rhythm of "Sume," the ambient type reemerges from the cup, strange thoughts crowd his mind, a desire for omnipotence assails him, Russians and Americans fighting a nuclear war on coke beaches. And here's the question: in "Sees", after the glazed rhythm, is it possible that at minute 2:43 I heard a burp?
I like to think that anyone operates a free mental translation of everything; whatever you feel is only for yourself: you hear what you want to hear. And so is my music. Simple.
One of the characteristics of ambient albums is that within the booklet, there is always this mystical phrase, something like "Leaving accustomed environments can create new ways to enhance spatial perception. Mood and thoughts travel in an unpredictable way" and so on.
And are there any negative effects for those who use drugs?
From my point of view, the only spiritual phrase that holds value today is that spirituality no longer exists. There's too much business in everyday life. People no longer want to sit down and slow down, there is too much of everything. Computers, web pirates, MP3s, and millions of "great" producers and artists. The spirit of sound as it was ten years ago is now too different for me to recognize. Anyway, I always like to continue down my path, which is the only one that gives me relief.
Interesting music and sound can be very impressive drugs. You feel completely empty without this. Something that could be compared only to the significance of the air we breathe.
What is the Estonian musical situation like? Have you ever heard of the so-called Italian music scene? If so, do you remember any neomelodic singer? In terms of Ambient, what do you think of all those conspiracy theories that claim the moon doesn't exist? And if it does exist, do you think that one day man will be able to walk on the sun? And while remaining on the theme of remote places, can you tell us if you ever think of passing by our parts or in Mongolia?
Where I was born, things are more influenced by local feelings, not at all connected with the events and vicissitudes of the world. The area is not very large, but people circle around and support quality music.
I love traveling by motorcycle. What can a man find more interesting than riding through small villages in strange countries? I have also learned the enduro style, climbing mountains and scratching the roads. I have thus passed through numerous European places, the western part of Italy (it's the first time I hear about dividing vertically, ed.), and Asia still awaits me to discover, but there's always time for everything.
To give you an example of the connection between my music and travel, a mini album will be published in January, titled "desert e.p.", under the Cactus Island label, and dedicated to the passing of Gaston Rahier (a Belgian motorcyclist and Suzuki rider who recently died, ed.).
Unfortunately I have never really heard of the Italian experimental scene (which one?, ed.). I know it exists somewhere out there (where?, ed.), I probably even know some of them (oh dear, who?, ed.), but I simply don't remember now.
For me, music above all represents the quality of sound, connected with the surrounding nature and all the different cultures.
It's a personal journey inside each of us.
Loading comments slowly
