Some concerts are planned. Others become pilgrimages. This one had Melbournians booking flights, group chats buzzing for months and a collective “are you already there?” echoing across state lines. Terminaator in Sydney wasn’t just a gig — it was an event. And yes, fan mode is fully on.
Let’s be honest upfront. This is a love letter. A biased one. Consider yourself warned. But also consider this: one of us, an experienced rock musician with zero nostalgic attachment to Terminaator, declared it “an epic concert”. Australian-Estonian approved. That’s the highest compliment there is.
Welcome home (again)
The Sydney Estonian House doors opened and Ave — the welcoming face of the Estonian Society in Sydney — greeted us like family. Melbournians found each other instantly, as we do. Young, old, lifelong fans and curious first-timers — everyone singing, everyone moving, everyone swept up by that uniquely Estonian magic where music dissolves generations and geography.
Age didn’t matter. Accents didn’t matter. Whether you grew up with Terminaator or had barely heard them before — by the second song, we were all in. Music does that. It moves through the body, clears the mind and reminds you where you come from. I secured a spot close to the stage (because really — how often does Terminaator visit Australia?). Apparently every five years. Too long.
The bar, the kitchen, the nostalgia
Before the first chord, the senses were already working overtime. Estonian drinks lined the bar. Kalevi chocolates made appearances. Homemade pies emerged fresh from the oven. A sneaky peek into the kitchen rewarded me with a warm pastry — and suddenly I was back in my mum’s kitchen. One unexpected bite, one powerful memory added to the evening’s growing pile of goodness.
Potato salad (divine), Estonian-style garlic bread (yes please), Vana Tallinn, Gin Long Drinks, cider — sustenance sorted. Culture restored.
From left: the bar at the Sydney Estonian House serving eager customers. Centre: fans from Melbourne (top) and our brilliant cook Juta Mitt with fresh pastries straight out of the oven (bottom). Right: Jaagup Kreem enjoying the pastries prepared by Juta. Sydney Estonian House, November 2025. Photos by Kristel Alla and Ave Nukki.
Warm-up brilliance: Jericho
Enter Jericho. Wow. A strong warm-up band that had the room moving on their feet before Terminaator even stepped on stage. We’re told they regularly play at the Sydney Estonian House, including Vappu concerts — mental note made. New album out too, apparently. Instagram following commenced.
Merch was flying — tour-exclusive cups and T-shirts made especially for the Australian run. Souvenirs secured.
Terminaator takes the stage
Easy on the ears and eyes. Balm for our culture-deprived souls. An atmosphere that wrapped the room and refused to let go.
At one point, a fan placed a Vana Tallinn shot on stage and encouraged Jaagup Kreem to drink it. And drink it he did. The crowd loved it. Jaagup… possibly less so. Still, it warmed him up — useful, given his ongoing commentary about the Australian heat (fair).
Audience interaction was a highlight throughout. Jaagup is a master at connection — witty, generous, effortlessly professional. Each band member had their solo moment, met with huge applause.
On stage:
Jaagup Kreem (vocals)
Taavi Langi (guitar)
Henno Kelp (bass guitarist)
Roland Puusepp (drums)
René Puura (keys)
Jaagup also casually announced that René is single and looking for a girlfriend. The audience, naturally, was eager to assist. Poor René. Or lucky René. Hard to say.
From left: Terminaator performing on stage to an excited crowd. Right: René Puura. Photos by Kristel Alla.
Exit fan mode. Talk music.
Juulikuu lumi was saved for the encore — nearly causing collective heart failure when it seemed it might not come. But it did. Along with all the favourites: Carmen, Nagu esimene kord, Kuutõbine and more.
We sang everything. Loudly. Passionately. Some of us so enthusiastically that voices were gone the next day. We would’ve kept clapping forever if given the chance. Solo artists, all of us, filling every pause.
Jaagup joked about Australia being “on the back of the head of the world” (maailma kuklapoolel), about drinking upside-down with the moon reversed, about the heat, about Aussies going to bed at 10pm while clubs in Estonia are just warming up. He dedicated Kuutõbine to those who can’t sleep at night, and another song to those who were forced to leave Estonia — our ancestors scattered across the world. The room felt it.
He thanked those who travelled from Melbourne, Brisbane, New Zealand. “If you only knew how much we love you,” he said. We believed him.
Post-Terminaator glow
The glow followed us home. Songs looped on repeat during walks. Playlists reshuffled themselves accordingly. Terminaator remains a pillar of Estonian culture — a status only a few bands ever reach.
And yes, apologies for stereotypes, but let’s be honest while we’re here. Five handsome men on stage, pouring their hearts into love songs about longing, waiting and devotion? We’re human. We noticed. Meeting your musical idols doesn’t happen often. You’re allowed to enjoy it.
Most of us left around midnight. Rumour has it the afterparty had a different tempo altogether. We don’t listen to gossip. Mostly because we’re sad we missed it.
Acknowledgements
A huge thank-you to Peppermint Events for organising the tour, the Estonian Society of Sydney for hosting, the band for travelling across the world, and our wonderful Melbourne crew for making the journey north. Terminaator toured Australia for two weeks, also performing in Perth and on the Gold Coast — with great success, judging by social media.
Come back soon, Terminaator. Five years is far too long.
From left: Terminaator taking their final bow. Right: Terminaator together with fans. Photos by Kristel Alla.
