You came to this interview straight from a songwriting camp. Where were you, what were you doing?

I was on Hiiumaa, at a camp for Villemdrillem's album. It was really interesting and nice to see good friends, chill a bit and make music on the side. That's the best thing ever — joking around together and at the same time creating something of real quality. Villem and I have organized camps before, but back then it wasn't really what it is now. We weren't on this level yet and weren't chasing that kind of quality. At the time, it was just for fun to see what came out. By now, the process has clearly changed.

Ideas move much faster, the technical skills have developed a lot over time. But the same spark and excitement are still there. It's such a pleasure to make something you love with friends who speak the same language as you. That's joy. And some things never change — it's still fun to talk nonsense.

So after a long break, you came together again as professionals?

Yes. We managed to channel all the ideas that earlier just stayed on the level of thoughts. Our understanding of music has developed so much. When a good idea comes to mind, we can immediately bring it to life without lacking the technical side. It's cool to see, even from the outside, how Villem and Karl (Killing) have grown as people and as artists.

What kind of music were you making there — dance, R&B, rap...?

Funny enough, for the first time in three or four years, I made a really good trap beat that I genuinely cared about. On Triibupasta's album there was one trap-like track, but that was more EDM-influenced internet music. Making pure trap again was actually really enjoyable. I was a little afraid to go there because I've developed such a distinct sound — that noisy, electronic thump-thump. But overall, we made all kinds of things. We even did one nostalgic synth-pop track.

I'm very excited. When you do a camp just to jam, it's fun to drink beer and make music, but when you have a clear goal, like making an album, then at the end of the camp your mind immediately races. What comes next, how to shape it, what order the songs should be in, what to add, what to leave out and how the overall sound and visuals should be.

How many of these camps do you usually have — monthly or weekly?

Maybe two per quarter.

Doesn't it get old? Don't you start repeating yourself, turning it into assembly line work?

Every project is very different. With Villem and Karl, who are really strong pop musicians and rappers, it's a completely unique experience. With Triibupasta, it's not such a systematic process — it's more about hoping for a happy accident when the guys suddenly come up with some crazy idea. That's pure fun. With Maria Kallastu and Mattias Tirmaste, who I'm working with on Maria's album, it's a different dynamic — a bit of both. There's more jamming, even though Mattias and Maria are professional musicians and I'm more of a bedroom producer. But of course, we still have fun.

On the other hand, I outright boycott camps I don't want to be at. I've done those and they're nerve-wracking and stressful. In the end, it always turns into sweaty misery. Music has to start with knowing the person, relating to them, sharing a taste or production style. It can't be forced. Artificially pushing artists together just kills the soul of the music.

But you still have the ability to tinker alone in your room?

Always. Those are the best moments — when I can work alone from scratch. I've realized recently that it's actually necessary to figure out what I really want to do. I'd say my best work has come out of my room, in a home environment where there's no pressure. Camps are just a very efficient way to work on bigger projects since you can grind for several days in a row. Even though they're super intense — I'm really tired right now.

As a producer, do you present your own ideas and try to fit artists into them or do you take their input first and build on that?

There are moments when I have a really clear idea in my head and I'll say, "Let's do this" and try to push my vision. Other times, someone comes to me with a specific idea. You have to be adaptable. I don't make Triibupasta beats for Villemdrillem, Villemdrillem beats for Triibupasta or either one for Maria Kallastu. You need to find the common language.

Some Estonian pop songs this fall have made me wonder — how much do local producers actually tell pop artists how to sing a phrase, what emotion to use or give performance tips on tiny details so the pop performance is fully convincing? Sometimes it feels like that's what we lack.

I'd dare to say that's the main job. That's how you make the most even out of weaker situations. The artist's idea has to be brought to life, and depending on the case, it may require pushing the artist. Saying, "Do it with this feeling" or "Sing it calmer" or "Don't use your voice like that, make it softer." That happens a lot and is a crucial part of producing. It can determine whether a song is good or not.

Right, sometimes the success of a global hit comes down to how an S-sound is pronounced in the chorus.

Exactly. The song has to be believable and you have to sell that vibe to the listener. Speaking of S-sounds, I remember one of my favorite bands with Mattias Tirmaste and Maria Kallastu — Paradis, a French duo, one with a techno background and the other with a jazz background. They made one album and then split. In their song "Quand Tu Souris," the jazz guy sings over this airy, soft beat and stretches out the sibilant ending of a word. That little detail creates a wow effect and chasing those things is really important.

But how often, chasing those details, do you just hit a wall ten times and realize it's not working?

A lot. Maybe one in four times you end up shooting yourself in the foot. You have a clear idea you try to convince the artist of, but in the end you realize it just won't work right now.

Last time we talked, two years ago, you had just started at MUBA. Did you graduate successfully?

Yes.

Yet you still call yourself a bedroom producer?

Honestly, I just like producing in my bedroom. I'm not really an amateur anymore, no. Even though the diploma doesn't mean much by itself.

You said you went there to dive deep into the technical side. So now everything is clear — including the surgical side between idea and release?

Sure, but it's a lifelong process. When producing, you have certain principles, but you have to apply them your own way, figure out what works best for you technically. A lot depends on the situation. MUBA gave me the foundation. Now I keep tinkering to learn how to use those tools in my own music.

So you'd recommend it to everyone, even someone who made an album with Reket and Kohver at 18?

Definitely. It gives you a really strong base. Only now I think you have to pay for it.

Around the same time, you had just released your debut album "Qqndqlt" and were making a name for yourself as a solo artist. Two years later, you've just had the craziest summer of your life and career, tearing across Estonia with Triibupasta's album "Õlleavaja." Do you consider that your biggest achievement so far?

I wouldn't call it my biggest achievement, but it's definitely a big deal. At the same time, I don't want to deny it either, even if people call it drinking music. I feel like we're doing it well and the guys have a real talent for it. They may not be top-tier rappers, but they can pull off something cool in their own way.

We were also lucky that Triibupasta broke through. We had been doing it for a while but hadn't officially released or promoted anything — it was just for fun. It might've stayed that way if "Õllekas" hadn't blown up. We made it at a time we weren't working that hard. We decided to release it in early June 2024, and by late July, we saw that people had suddenly started listening. The numbers grew four or five times over.

Then people started asking me if I was involved. At first, I denied it — we wanted to keep our identity hidden. But it just got so big that it hit Spotify's charts. We couldn't believe it. Total luck, because we hadn't promoted it at all. Now it has over 1.4 million streams.

We also caught the moment well when Elina, aka Valge Tüdruk, started doing a similar thing. I heard her music, saw her at the Saund festival and thought, "This is the same joke we're making with Triibupasta." I wrote to her, she was sold and then "Hr maakler" came out, which hit perfectly. So it was just one success after another.

Soon after, the label Kurvad uudised came knocking. We were torn between keeping it fun and turning it into a real album with marketing and all. But we thought, "F*ck it — if it doesn't work out, it doesn't." We could take that risk-free, since we don't have families to feed. We aimed to capture something from our childhood, since we're from the same area, just fool around and make a snapshot of today's youth music. I also tried to include as many genres as possible, not just constant thump-thump.

Have you thought about how long a band like Triibupasta can even last? People grow older and calm down — maybe it's just for one generation.

I think it will last longer. I just want to recognize the point when we start making music just for the sake of it. Then it's pointless, because Triibupasta is based on fun. My gut says it won't fade in the next two years. By the end of this summer, we already had our first booking for next summer.

But yeah, we all think about it once a week — going from zero to hero with one album is really something. It doesn't happen often. Moving forward from that is tough, of course. Since Triibupasta set the bar so high, we need to keep up the quality. A lot of similar projects have popped up — like Noored Ja Näljased or Qotid. That makes it harder because the drinking-pop can't just be as sloppy anymore. It needs a bigger goal and more thought behind it.

Why not?

Well, you can, but you can also integrate the two. We're still intelligent bums. Our thinking has just changed a lot. Before the album came out, we made Bandcamp projects without any expectations. Now people expect the next banger and that makes it harder.

Are you talking about musical development or lyrics?

More about the overall intention. You can't just shout random stuff into the mic anymore. That has its charm, but there has to be something that sets us apart from other sloppy pop acts.

So do you see Triibupasta in your discography like a strict father who's never completely satisfied with one of his kids?

No, I'm satisfied, but it's like a rebellious son, a troublemaker.

But there's still some inner conflict in you?

Yeah, totally. On one hand, I always want to develop my sound, make my musical language more professional. Inevitably, that shows up in Triibupasta too, since I'm making the music and I feel I have the right to say how things should be done. I want to make it a bit more intelligent.

But the other side of me says if it gets too intelligent, the charm is gone. It should stay simple, easy-to-digest entertainment. Music you put on to let go of your worries, listen to the swearing and messing around on a beat.

After "Õlleavaja" came out, we've done a couple of sessions, one track is on the way, so it's not a full stop. But I feel like the guys are also searching for what to do next. Because so much sloppy pop has been made already, people might soon get tired of it. So we have to do it very well and skillfully if we want it to stick.

How do you feel about the Triibupasta clones trying to ride your wave to chart success?

It's nice that there's new talent coming up. But again — what's the goal? Estonians just love thump-thump, that's undeniable. And it's great that people are making music in Estonian. Four out of five songs in Spotify's charts are Estonian and that's awesome. I don't have any real resentment toward them. Everyone copies everyone anyway. Respect to people for getting together, writing words, making tracks — and people are listening.

But I would like to see a little more originality from them. We don't have a patent saying it's our style, but since it's a simple style of music, you need a few tricks, something unique to you, to make it work. Still, competition in music is healthy.

At the same time, I'm glad to see artists like Villemdrillem, Karl Killing and others aren't distracted by the boom and stay true to their vision.

This summer you performed in places you'd never been before, maybe even never thought you would. What was the biggest positive surprise? What was the most shocking discovery?

The negative side is that, apart from Beach Grind and I Land Sound, there aren't many festivals that aim to be great festivals instead of just making money. Compared with abroad, we're really lacking in overall quality — both production and programming. I'm sure it'll develop, but I'd like to see more of it. At Õllesummer, for example, we performed right next to the kids' area.

I noticed a lot of half-assed execution, like "let's just get this done." You rarely see festivals that are visually interesting or built around a concept, an experience. Too often it's just about inviting underage kids to drink and listen to Triibupasta. Festivals should feel inviting, like an event. We're not there yet, but maybe I'm being a bit of a snob. At I Land Sound, I felt that real festival vibe. If you're making a festival, you should do it well and keep improving, even if you've done it for decades and people still come.

The positive surprise was that Estonians aren't as closed off as they seem. We were warmly received everywhere.

What was the most exotic place?

I'd say Hauka Fair. On the way there, we joined up with 5miinust, who were in their songwriting camp, and went to warm up at some important guy's place in Antsla, which was already interesting. Then we headed to the fair. It had just rained, so we trudged through the mud to backstage, saw Hellad Velled performing, total chaos, so many people, so many potato spirals everywhere. It was unbelievably huge — didn't even feel like Estonia. That was a wild experience.

As Boipepperoni, you hadn't performed outside the big cities before, right? So this opened up a new side of Estonia.

Exactly. It felt like in a video game when a new area unlocks. And of course, it helped that people everywhere were so hyped about Triibupasta.

Your bandmate said on Muusikanõunikud this spring that Triibupasta is like a test of whether someone's young or old — if you don't like it and it annoys you, you're old. Do you agree?

No, that's dumb. It depends on taste, not age. Even my dad listens to Triibupasta at the gym. Sure, the wordplay and language speak more to young people, but an older person might also find it weird and interesting.

So your plan for the next years is to get the most out of Triibupasta and you're not going back to Boipepperoni?

I am. I specifically want to make music in my bedroom again. I've been a bit of a workhorse, making albums for others. "Qqndqlt" is the only thing so far where I did exactly what I wanted. Now I feel I have the skills to make my own stuff. Working with others is nice and it pays, but in the end, it wears you out. I've even turned down potential projects this year just to focus on my own music until the end of the year.

Next year, two big plans: I want to do more theater music. I'm working on the sound design for a theater student's graduation play and I have a project planned with Von Krahl. I want to try that field more — I caught the theater bug back in my VHK theater class.

Aren't you afraid that at Boipepperoni's next album release, people will only demand Triibupasta songs? Or do you plan to keep those things separate?

Definitely separate. With my own music, I want to go a little deeper. I actually have a new single coming with Finnish artist Malla, which I want to use to start a new chapter in my solo career. A bit more danceable than "Qqndqlt," but also more complex and higher quality. Triibupasta actually gave me a lot of confidence and now I want to start experimenting on my own.

The bigger goal is to go international. One specific target is to perform at Flow Festival. If I manage that someday, then I can think about the next step.

Two years ago, you mentioned a similar ambition, but in the meantime you've gone deeper into Estonia, even playing Hauka Fair. So that ambition is still alive?

Absolutely. The Triibupasta thing came out of nowhere, so I didn't see it coming at the time. The ambition is definitely still there, but it's difficult and you have to move toward it step by step. It's much harder than making waves in Estonia.

The new track is in English — a bit rough, kind of Björk-like English — but I've never done anything in English before. I also wanted to put more focus on the music itself. So far, I've followed the inner logic of pop, where vocals are the main thing. With my first album, I invited a lot of different artists to sing on my tracks — kind of a Fred Again approach.

Now the goal is to let the music breathe more. When I released the instrumental version of "Qqndqlt," I got feedback that people discovered new things in it. Turns out, the instrumentals stood on their own without vocals. Since I tend to overproduce and want the background in pop songs to be as strong as possible, this approach could have real potential — making music where the vocal is just one part of the instrumental.

So you've tasked the label with taking the new single beyond Estonia?

Yes, but it's a long process. You can't force it, but you can work toward it. I'm pretty sure it won't break through yet, but it's a first step.

Looking back a bit, maybe it's interesting for you too — two years ago you described your goal as an artist like this:

"I want to give people interesting experiences and journeys through my music. That they discover themselves in small details and find inspiration in it somehow. That it matters to me and matters to listeners."

(Laughs.) Very deep. Like the end of a school essay.

Do you agree with yourself?

Of course. That's why music works. If you listen to your own track and get goosebumps, that's a good sign. And if you can give that to others, make them relate, maybe even dance — then the goal is achieved. I really hope it stays that way.

As a listener, what do you feel is missing in Estonian music?

There are so few female artists in Estonia, which is a shame. A lot of male rappers have come up recently, and right now An-Marlen is taking off, but we could use more big female names.

I also feel pop music could take more risks with structure. There should be more irregularities and surprises. Verse-chorus-verse-chorus is carved in stone here, but sometimes you should let the music speak for itself. That's something I'm trying to do now. Of course, with Villemdrillem or Clicherik and Mäx, you can't push that too far.

In Estonia, it's tricky — if you live off music, it's hard to take those risks. You can experiment only on the side. The gap between the two extremes is pretty wide, with very few people in the middle.

I was just talking with someone about this the other day. What's missing in making less conventional tracks is a school of production for contemporary music. You go to class, you learn ABBA songs, how they're structured. But there's no institution teaching you to find different solutions. Even at MUBA, where I studied, it was pretty conventional. And the broader audience also lacks that kind of musical education.

A year ago, I tried applying to a university in Copenhagen. I thought I had a really strong foundation, but I didn't get in. I thought, "I'm technically skilled, why not?" When I later listened to the music coming out of there, I realized they wanted musicians with a different approach — people finding alternative solutions, not conventional pop artists.

People like Astrid Sonne and ML Buch studied there. It's that kind of school — more underground, ambient music and that kind of education. We don't have a school like that here or a tradition that values it, and as a result, we don't have a scene to support and sustain it. Ida Raadio keeps a more underground line, but they're the only ones. It's a real concern, even though there is an audience and maybe it's slowly growing.

Maybe the answer is just that it's coded into us — we like county fair music and only want thump-thump.

Even though you're playing Hauka Fair with Triibupasta, are you personally still inspired by music's fringes?

I think so, yes. They're weird, and I like that weirdness. I want to show that I can make that kind of music too — that's the next plan under the Boipepperoni name.

And you want to do it in a way that's still accessible to the "big bad public"?

Exactly. I do have a kind of pop instinct and I can weave different techniques into it.

At the Estonian Music Awards, who will win album of the year — Triibupasta or Eplik and Nublu?

A: Well... I'd say Triibupasta. Eplik and Nublu's album was cool, I liked a couple of tracks from it, but it could've had more Vaiko and less standard pop.

And what's the best album of the year overall?

My latest obsession is Oli XL's "Lick The Lens – Pt. 1." But for the whole year, it's probably still Playboi Carti's "Music." Makes sense. It had so many bangers and Carti is a genius.

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