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Metsatöll and RGB Baltics are hosting a concert on Friday-Saturday
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North-American tour 10233

  Katk Kutsariks, 23. February


* A doublesingle „Toona“ ("Before") and „Katk kutsariks“ ("Plague Coachman") from the new album are out today

* The album release concert and Metsatöll’s 20th anniversary party will be held in cooperation with Eesti Kontsert in Rock Cafe on February 23, Tallinn, Estonia

* The full album will be available the day after the release concert

“Stay, companion, and think of the journey which you began when you first opened your eyes. It is you who is the coachman. And the horse you are too, and the burden you are carrying. But if you were ever to forget why the devil are you on this road, the Plague itself will seize the reins. Be you then prepared to suffer the consequences: the ones who sow the wind will have to reap the storm.”

/Metsatöll 10232/

Metsatöll will release their 7th studio album „Katk Kutsariks“ on February 23. The album has 12 tracks from which a two-part song „Toona“ and „Katk kutsariks“ is released on radio today.

The album “Plague Coachman” was recorded and produced by Keijo Koppel and Metsatöll, in fall 2018 in Tallinn.

Front cover: Jüri Arrak “People with Bubo”, 2018. Lithography, coloured pencils. Private collection.
Designed by Kristjan “Luix” Luiga.
Photography by Erlend taub.

Lyrics translated into English by Silver “Factor” Rattasepp.

Metsatöll is:

KuriRaivo - bass, vocals
Tõnis - drums, vocals
Markus - vocals, guitars
Lauri – vocals, torupill, flutes, kannel, instrument of angst, acoustic guitar

The album release concert will be held on February 23 in Rock Cafe, Tallinn, Estonia

On the stage will be:

Metsatöll with the original lineup
The Estonian National Male Choir
Tiit Kikas
on the laser harp and the world’s first drone music instrument.

Tickets are on sale at Piletilevi:

See also:

Additional information:
Lauri: +372 56155559
Tõnis: +372 5523788

The authors’ comments on the released singles:

Toona (Before):

This is the land of our forefathers, the one we have inherited with the language, the cus- toms and the knowledge. This is the place where our people sang their first songs and the place where the first weapons were made from bog iron. We have a duty to uphold this legacy until the day we die.

Katk kutsariks (Plague Coachman):

The sneaky Plague arrives on our doorstep calmly like an old friend. It leaves its carriage outside our small barnhouse and, with a smile on its face, asks to be let inside. When the mask finally falls, it’s already too late for us to save ourselves: the Plague’s promises were empty and slogans false. Now that the Plague has taken the reins, it feels free to do with us as it pleases because we chose the Plague and happily handed over the reins. We party on like there is no tomorrow. But somewhere deep inside we know that once the Plague has piled up the dead to rot in our yard, we are the only ones to blame.

The lyrics translated:


Here is the land where iron was born
Land of bogs, of old gaffers
Among failed fields

Things unsung still remain here
In times bygone in sacred grove
A gate was left open

The folk here are as old as springs
Eyes pure and clear
As life was before

Fykes unclaimed by the villages
Debt of blood, the toil of ancestors
Will be borne by their sons

Plague coachman

A sleigh brought a corpse to our village today
Frost-covered gelding snorting in front
Cold body, soul stuck in the underworld
Plague itself was the driver

Our villages still were feasting
When gutters were filling with blood
When mist covered the cottage
A merry song was still sung by the bard:

“Silenced was your bleak face
Cold, silent rune of death on the mouth
Wretched man was extinguished
Debt of blood paid at the deathly month”

And the white hair of maidens
Was adorned by a wreath of summer flowers

Birches adorning the rooms
Earthen floor was sipping the mead

Knife behind back
Cast him out
Cut his bridle
Gut this deathly plague, fast!

Knife behind back Soil in the lap Cast him out
Spit fire

Cut his bridle
Silence his mouth
Gut this deathly plague, fast!
Soil in the lap
Cast him out
Spit fire
Cut his bridle
Soil is soil
Gut this deathly plague, fast!

A pale stranger then stepped inside
A wide smile was playing in his face
Without asking, like a thief
Slammed the corpse in the middle of the floor
“Don’t come” is too late to now say
Once you’ve asked death to come in
The moment was let by
And wild revelry cannot now fade