The Setos are an indigenous Finno-Ugric people whose home is Setomaa, a region straddling southeastern Estonia and western Russia. Setomaa was historically known as Petserimaa – after Estonia’s independence it was split, leaving two-thirds of the land (including the old capital Petseri, now Pechory) on the Russian side. In modern times roughly 10,000–13,000 people in Estonia identify as Seto (only a few hundred remain across the border). Today’s Setos speak a local South-Estonian dialect and (unlike most Estonians) follow Eastern Orthodox Christianity.

The Tallinn Song Festival Grounds Arch: In 1960, Estonia unveiled a striking new open-air stage in Tallinn – an immense arched “singing stage” built to host the nation’s beloved Song Festival. This soaring shell structure (locally called the Laulukaar, or “singing arch”) was unlike anything seen in the Soviet Union at the time. Architect Alar Kotli, who co-designed it with Henno Sepmann, reportedly envisioned the arch as a giant “bugle” amplifying the voices of the choir. He even built a cardboard model to demonstrate how the curved form could project sound. The arch’s elegant shape was also a bold engineering feat: a hyperbolic-paraboloid (saddle-shaped) canopy of concrete and steel, stretched between two giant arches.

For over a century, one song has captured the soul of the Estonian nation perhaps more than any other. “Mu isamaa on minu arm” (“My Fatherland Is My Love”) is often called Estonia’s unofficial anthem – a song so cherished that it traditionally closes every Estonian Song Festival with tens of thousands joining voices. Born as a 19th-century poem and later transformed into a powerful patriotic hymn, “Mu isamaa on minu arm” became a musical embodiment of Estonia’s identity and resilience. During the Soviet occupation (1944–1991), when Estonia’s flag and official anthem were banned, this song served as a surrogate national anthem and a subtle act of defiance.

Across the northern forests and Baltic shores, three small nations once found themselves singing to the same tune. Finland, Estonia, and the now nearly forgotten Livonian people each adopted a melody that became more than just music — it was a declaration of belonging, an audible thread in the wider fabric of Finno-Ugric brotherhood. In an age when empires pressed down on language, culture, and national expression, this shared song became a vessel of memory and resistance. The words differed — Finnish pride, Estonian devotion, Livonian longing — yet the melody bound them, a reminder that their histories were not isolated, but intertwined.

At just 19 years old, Estonian-born bassoonist Robert Nael is already making waves across continents. In 2025, he was honored as one of the winners of the Foundation for Estonian Arts and Letters’ Young Artist Grant, a recognition that shines a spotlight on emerging Estonian talent thriving in the United States.

On September 11, 2025, Estonia’s most celebrated composer, Arvo Pärt, marked his 90th birthday amid tributes spanning the globe. It’s a milestone for a musician whose journey led from a small Baltic town to the pantheon of contemporary classical music. Born in 1935 in the central Estonian town of Paide and raised in Rakvere, Pärt came of age under Soviet rule and first made his mark experimenting with avant-garde techniques.

Estonian-American multimedia artist Valev Laube – celebrated as a musician, composer, and producer – is gearing up to release a new EP titled Equinox later this year. The upcoming EP marks Laube’s first major music release since his debut album Liminal, which arrived on January 1, 2025.

During the late 1980s, as Estonia struggled to break free from Soviet rule, music became a powerful form of non-violent resistance. One song in particular – “Ei ole üksi ükski maa” (“No Land Is Alone”) – emerged as a unifying anthem. Composed in 1987 by Alo Mattiisen, with lyrics by Jüri Leesment, this patriotic song was written to rally public support against Soviet plans for phosphorite mining in northern Estonia. Its message – that no part of the country stands alone – resonated deeply with Estonians and helped spark a broader singing revolution.

For nearly 50 years after World War II, Estonia was occupied by the Soviet Union, which sought to suppress Estonian national identity – banning the flag, resettling Russians into Estonia, and even trying to replace the Estonian language in public life. Despite this, Estonians clung to their cultural traditions. One crucial tradition was the Song Festival (Laulupidu), a massive choral event held since 1869 that became a vehicle for preserving national consciousness‍.

In the heart of Estonia’s Singing Revolution, one song echoed louder than the rest — not through volume, but through conviction. “Sind surmani,” a poetic pledge of devotion to the homeland originally penned by Lydia Koidula in the 19th century, found new life in the 1980s when composer Alo Mattiisen transformed it into a modern anthem of national awakening. Performed by tens of thousands arm-in-arm at rallies and song festivals, this ballad became a peaceful weapon of unity and resistance, embodying the spirit of a nation determined to reclaim its voice. This is the story of how a song, reborn through rock and remembrance, helped carry a people toward freedom — and continues to stir Estonian hearts today.