Metsatöll is an Estonian folk metal band. The name "Metsatöll" is an ancient Estonian euphemism for wolf, which is reflected in the harshness of their lyrics. Much of their material, featuring flutes and other traditional instruments, is based on the wars for independence of the 13th and 14th centuries.
Like the album "Äio" were we pick todays tune from, features heavy use of traditional instruments such as the lokulaud, torupill (Estonian bagpipes), kannel & angipill, in addition to the typical metal band instrumentation (electric guitars, bass, drums, etc.) Kinda intressting mix of instruments.
Metsatöll's titling and lyrics make heavy use of archaic Estonian language and imagery, which often do not have clear English translations. For example, the word Hiiekoda refers to a type of (usually wooden) sacral building constructed near or in a forest considered holy in the pre-Christianisation customs of Estonians. While the word Sutekskäija does mean Werewolf, the Estonian werewolf legends are considerably different from those known in Anglophone countries, and this particular word has an emphasis on the human aspect of the person involved, so a better (although not as catchy) translation might be One who regularly engages in werewolf business.
Members:
Markus "Rabapagan" Teeäär – Vocals & Guitar
Lauri "Varulven" Õunapuu – Vocals, Guitar, Flutes, Torupill & Other Traditional Instruments
KuriRaivo – Bass & Vocals
Atso – Drums & Vocals
More info @
Official Metsatöll Web
Listen to ”Metsatöll - Vaid Vaprust" on Spotify here!Follow tuneoftheday.blogspot.com on Spotify here!
2 comments:
Tycker om! Hade varit roligare om man förstått texten.
Visst är det lite udda, men kul. Bandet har ju varit lite fiffiga och lagt ut sina texter på hemsidan, även översatt till Engelska.
Vaid Varprust - ONLY BRAVERY
Yes, the prow of the sailing ship bites the foaming sea
Filled with steel-gray vigour is every man’s soul
When the gusts blow foam-white waves over the heads
The men are not afraid, dread has no meaning for them
When the sea-man’s eye swallows the blood-red dawn
Then free is our spirit and free is our soul
As the boats from the sea-ship settle down on the shore
Every breath draws in the stench of foreign soil
The hands don’t hold swords, the clan bears no spears
But if needed, every fist grips a blade, with power from rage
When the sea-man’s eye swallows the blood-red dawn
Then free is our spirit and free is our soul
The heart feels no fear, we won’t stray from the path
Only bravery seven fathoms and the strength of free men
The brine has soaked my wind-hardened coat
Gales have entangled the stumpy beard that measures the wind
As the sailing ship fades away to the horizon
Every man’s thoughts are with the seaman’s chest –
A handful of soil from one’s own garden
Sharp steel, a piece of bread and a sweetheart’s letter
When the sea-man’s eye swallows the blood-red dawn
Then free is our spirit and free is our soul
The heart feels no fear, we won’t stray from the path
Only bravery seven fathoms and the strength of free men
The heart feels no fear, we won’t stray from the path
Only bravery seven fathoms and the strength of free men
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