Wedding album gains Iļģi deserved notice

Ne uz vienu dienu

Ne uz vienu dienu, the newest compact disc by the Latvian modern folklore group Iļģi, has made it to No. 2 on World Music Charts Europe, where it is in good company with top groups from around the world. This is the highest international placing for a Latvian world music group and a powerful statement about the recording’s and the group’s quality.

Ne uz vienu dienu (Not for Just One Day) is a CD of wedding songs. But this is not an educational collection in the obvious sense; the songs do not form a complete wedding ceremony set. The best-known part of the ceremony—mičošana—is sung about in only one song, “Līgodama upe nesa.” Instead, Iļģi deals to a much greater extent with the more vague issue of beginning a new stage in one’s life.

“Tautiets jūdza bāliņš jūdza, Visi meži guni dega” and “Viena saule viena zeme” are beautiful texts about a bride wishing that her new home will be kind and that her married life will be gentle. These could be tear-jerkers, but Iļģi does not dwell on melancholy. Rather, as the liner notes state, even though a wedding is a serious event, it is nevertheless a happy one. The heavy “Dej eglīte, lec eglīte” bids a dignified farewell to the bride’s old life and proudly greets her new life. In “Kodaļa sprēslīca” the new bride’s lonely spinning wheel is encouraged to follow her to her new husband’s house, but the new couple has already exchanged rings, and now no one can undo the vows anymore. In “Skaista mana līgaviņa” the new bridegroom sings about his bride’s beauty and gently offers his shoulder for her to sleep.

Iļģi keeps on expanding its influences, this time by including African musician Samite on kalimba and German musician Mark Feder on banjo. Both instruments fit surprisingly well with Latvian folk melodies and the result is very pleasant world music. Of course, Iļģi plays all of its regular folk instruments as well: kokle, bagpipe, wooden flutes, ģīga, etc. The addition of Rūta Muktupāvela and three singers from the group Saucējas is also very fitting, because weddings are not usually the place for solo singing—everyone is expected to join in.

Despite a few calmer songs, the overall feel of Ne uz vienu dienu is almost exceedingly upbeat. All in all, though, this is another very polished CD typical of Iļģi, “restrained and yet refreshing,” according to World Music Charts Europe.

Details

Ne uz vienu dienu

Iļģi

Upe Records,  2006

UPECD 069

Album offers a taste of Latvian post-folklore

Sviests

Sviests (Butter) is a compact disc sampler of Latvian folklore-inspired music, also known as “post-folklore.” The CD does not have an overriding theme or style or time frame. Its only goal is to show the diversity of music that has been inspired by folk music, and therefore there’s a little bit of everything on it.

The CD begins with the groups Laiksne and Auri, both of which sing and play in a fairly traditional style. Next is Lidojošais paklājs with its mild, contemporary sound and elaborate arrangements, followed by Vilkači, the members of which focus on ancient Latvian culture and history.

Then the CD takes us to the world of ethno-jazz and the group Patina. Delve comes after that: a newer group from the Limbaži area with somewhat hypnotizing, ritual-like songs. Kristīne Kārkle and friends sing and play a first-rate rendition of “Ai, zaļā birztaliņa.” Kokle is a youth group, followed on the CD by the drums-and-bagpipes specialists, Auļi. Next is the most public face of Latvian traditional music—Skandinieki—followed by its antithesis, the pagan metal group Skyforger. If Latvian folk has made it this far, then there’s no fear that it will be lost any time soon, is there?

The next two groups on the CD are Trejasmens, a group that focuses on ancient warrior culture, and Dūdinieks, a project that creates modern musical arrangements for folk dance clubs. Kārkle then sings again, but this time with her original group, Ceiruleits. Next is the group Lāns and its delicate, ephemeral sound, followed by the Liv group Kala Jeng headed by Julgī Stalte. We hear Laiksne once more towards the end of the CD, and then Zane Šmite’s folk-avant-garde group Rīsa zvejnieki. The CD concludes with Visi vēji, a short-lived but popular and influential post-folklore group.

All in all, the variety included on Sviests shows an honest cross-section of the constantly changing post-folklore scene in Latvia. Some well-known groups have been left out, but some lesser-known groups have been brought to light. The liner notes offer a short description (in Latvian) of each group and a list of its participants. 

But why is the CD named “butter,” of all things? Especially when you take into account that in Latvian slang sviests means something that hasn’t turned out.

Maybe that’s what the CD sounds like to some: just a mess of unrelated music. But the name Sviests was chosen for other reasons. First of all, butter is a quintessentially Latvian product. Secondly, butter isn’t really a pure product, because in order to make butter, you need to take cream and churn and beat it until you finally get butter. But the result tastes just as good as the original product. The same goes for post-folklore: it’s highly processed folk music, but the result sounds just as good as the original. Thirdly, Latvians nowadays buy more margarine than butter—an analogy to the small part of the population who actually listen to and work with folk music.

In any case, this CD has definitely turned out and offers something for everybody who appreciates musical innovation.

Details

Sviests

Various artists

Lauska,  2005

LAUSKA CD05

Latvian winter festival marks shortest day

The traditional Latvian Christmas (called Ziemassvētki, meaning “winter festival”) is an ancient holiday having nothing to do with the birth of Christ. Instead, Ziemassvētki marks the shortest day and longest night of the year—the winter solstice—falling on Dec. 21 or 22, depending on the year.

One of the most important things to do at Ziemassvētki is to pull a yule log (called simply bluķis in Latvian) around your home three times. The log collects all of the sorrows, worries, misfortunes and anger that have accumulated during the past year. Then you need to burn the log, preferably outside, but a fireplace will do. The bonfire is considered a surrogate for the light of the sun, of which there is very little at this darkest time of year.

Many traditional Ziemassvētki songs and games also have to do with the theme of light or, more precisely, light winning over dark and ensuring that the sun will return again, the days will grow longer and life will go on. These two forces are often symbolized in the songs and dances by a goat and wolf or the sun and moon.

The season of the ķekatas, or mummers, begins at Mārtiņi (Nov. 10) and lasts until Meteņi (Feb. 10), but culminates at Ziemassvētki and is a very important part of the festivities. Ķekatas are costumed people who wander from house to house, making much noise, singing and dancing, demanding food and drink, and so on. They tend to dress as animals, natural objects or humans, instead of the gory monsters and witches associated with Halloween (which is ultimately related to the mummer tradition). Ziemassvētki is supposed to be a loud and even rowdy holiday – not quiet and peaceful, as we often imagine Christmas ought to be.

Because the solstices are very significant turning points of the year, they are also times for divining and fortune telling. There are countless benign and fun ways to divine the future, some of which include floating walnut shell boats in basins of water, going outside to listen to the bees in the hive, and interpreting dreams. Latvians (along with most Scandinavians) also melt pieces of lead, pour the molten lead into cold water, and then try to foresee their futures in the shape of the resulting blob of hardened lead.

Ziemassvētki is not Ziemassvētki, without piparkūkas (spicy, thin gingerbread cookies), cūkas šņukuris (pig’s snout) and pelēkie zirņi (gray peas). Blood sausage, pīrāgi, and ķūķis or koča (barley baked with smoked pork) are also popular foods at Ziemassvētki.

Traditional room decorations include straw or reed pieces strung together to form elaborate three-dimensional geometrical shapes and hung from the ceiling. Another popular decoration, a puzuris, is much easier to make: tie a long string around a small potato, then poke interestingly shaped dried grasses into the potato until you’ve formed a star or sun. The fuller the sun is of grasses, the more beautiful the decoration.

Even though it’s not really part of a truly traditional Ziemassvētki, keep your Christmas tree. The evergreen is, of course, a symbol of life in the darkest time of year, when everything else seems dead, and thus fits nicely into the celebration. Latvians tend to prefer short-needled spruce trees, rather than fat and full pines (for American readers, think more in the direction of a Charlie Brown Christmas tree). That’s so that you can hang ornaments in the tree—between the branches—rather than just lay them on the outer branches. As with so many things, Latvian-style tree decorating also tends to be simple and reserved: tasteful ornaments made of wood and other natural materials, including pinecones, cranberries and gingerbread; simple solid-colored balls, and real candles.