Image of drunkenness damages album’s effort

Alus dziesmas

Think of the cute farmer’s daughter in overalls, straw hat, freckles, pig-tails and a piece of straw between her teeth. Now think of the Latvian version of this scene. That’s what the first half or so of the album Alus dziesmas (Beer Songs) sounds like to me: a caricature.

According to the liner notes, Latvians enjoy beer, but their tradition doesn’t condone drunkenness. The liner notes correctly state that "beer was an integral part of the ritual meal at all ancient Latvian celebrations." Beer was a part of socializing, feasting and singing—a beverage to enjoy, instead of a means by which to get drunk. But you’d never know it by listening to some of the songs on this compact disc, nor by looking at the cover picture!

I admit it—the cover photo put me off from the very beginning: a museum-quality traditional Latvian house with four men partying, one of whom is passed out at the table. The first half of the CD sounds like the picture looks: more or less traditional music, but then there’s that one passed out guy that messes it up. The mood sounds exaggerated, like a parody.

If you’re drunk, then not only would your singing and judgment suffer, but also your playing of musical instruments. The playing on Alus dziesmas does not suffer. In fact, it is quite good, as one would expect from the musicians associated with the UPE Recording label. But to me it sounds like they started recording the vocal tracks at the height of their drinking. Thankfully, after about half a dozen songs the music seems to have mellowed them out some. After a somewhat bitter first taste, the CD ends with several really nice songs, leaving a good aftertaste in my mouth.

A few highlights of the CD:

"Es bej loba īmetēja" is very interesting, being a song from the woman’s point of view. This woman does not lament about her husband’s drinking, as one would expect, but rather jokes about her own fondness for imbibing: "Whoever plans to marry me should first build a brewery so that I can start each day by going there…"

The men’s a capella "Kur tu biji alutiņi" is a nice change from the previous songs and leads into "Redz kur nāca alus kanna," sung by three very confident women. "Redz kur" is the traditional drinking song where I come from, aside from the common ziņģes. It rarely has a set text, because people are expected to just add verse after verse. The melody line is almost too simple, but the elaborate ways people keep the strong beat going (for example, pounding anything made of wood) keep the song fun and exciting.

While all the songs on the CD (except the two instrumentals) are truly pretty much about beer and beer alone, "Pie alus galda sēdēja" is a love song of sorts that mentions beer only in the title. "Alus, alus, laid mani iekšā" is a great waltz-polka combination.

Actually, there are quite a few good, merry, lustīgas songs on Alus dziesmas. But like I said, I don’t care for the treatment they receive on this recording. I also got a bit tired of the constant accordion (as well as the Cajun-inspired playing of it, for example, on "Aiz kalniņa dūmi kūp"), but I guess the instrument does seem to fit well with beer.

A warning to connoisseurs of ultra-traditional music: This CD contains a whole lot of whoops, yips, grunts, squeals, calls and shouts. For some reason these have become quite popular in Latvian traditional music lately. They’re not really at all out of place at a wild party or even just a fun evening of dancing and singing. But some people do not like to hear them on recordings.

Alus dziesmas contains just a few of the many, many songs on the topic of beer and drinking (a great number of which are, need I say, heart-rending laments about drunk husbands, but we hear none of those on this CD). Despite the treatment they receive, the collection of songs is pretty good, and the goal of the CD is noble: to once again intertwine the drinking of beer with the singing of traditional beer songs.

Details

Alus dziesmas

Latviešu tautas mūzikas kolekcija

UPE Recording Co.,  2001

UPE CD 026

With fieldwork done, it’s time for Mārtiņi

“Laid iekšā, saiminiece, man kājiņas nosalušas!” (Let me in—my feet are freezing!). Thus begins another winter and another mummers’ season in the traditional Latvian year, with banging on the door, masked people demanding to come in and be fed, loud singing and dancing. This festival, called Mārtiņi, marks the beginning of winter and occurs halfway between the fall equinox and the winter solstice on Nov. 10.

Mārtiņi is the end of the harvest season. The field work has come to an end by now. The end of threshing is celebrated at Mārtiņi. Horses and cattle are brought in to spend the winter in the barns. It is a time for gathering and preparing food and getting ready for winter, as well as being thankful for a good harvest.

The namesake of the festival, Mārtiņš, is a lesser deity or mythical character associated with the waning of the sun, as well as with war. With the farm work done and the ground and rivers frozen, in years gone by fall was usually the time that raids and wars began. Mārtiņš and the spring character Ūsiņš (celebrated at the opposite end of the year on May 10) have several similarities: they both care for horses, both are associated with sacrifices of roosters, and they symbolize the waning (Mārtiņš) and waxing (Ūsiņš) of the sun.

The hallmark of the Mārtiņi celebration is the costumes and masks, the "mummers." In the evening people dress up so that no one can recognize them. They then go from house to house, where they are greeted with cheers, songs, food and drink. Much singing, dancing, joking and—sometimes—even scaring of children follows. Some mummer groups even prepare a short humorous skit. The mummers, usually called budēļi, čigāni or ķekatas, demand food and drink. The better the fare offered, the better the hosts’ harvest will be next year. The mummers comment on the cleanliness of the house, and sometimes steal a small object or two in jest. They dance around the whole farmyard, bringing blessings and fertility to the animals, buildings, fields and gardens. Then the bunch goes on to the next farmstead, where the whole scene is repeated.

Sounds kind of like Halloween? Of course it does, because many cultures have similar traditions in the fall. Latvians traditionally continued these masked visits all winter long until the Meteņi celebration in early February. Although outside of Latvia we associate the costumed revelers almost exclusively with the beginning of their season at Mārtiņi, most of their activity actually occured around the winter solstice (Ziemassvētki).

The budēļi are said to bring good fortune. They tend to disguise themselves as familiar objects, people and animals, not the supernatural or gory characters so often seen at Halloween parties. Common Latvian costumes include the tall lady, the short man, a gypsy, a bear-tamer and bear, a goat, a wolf, a heron, a rabbit, a tree or a mushroom. The main thing is that no one recognizes you!

Because Mārtiņi occurs after the harvest, it is a wealthy festival with lots of good food. Mārtiņi also is slaughter time, so there is usually a variety of meats at the festival meal. The best known delicacy is rooster. Traditionally, a black rooster was killed to ensure the well-being of the horses (“Mārtiņam gaili kāvu deviņiem cekuliem; Tas baroja, tas sukāja manus bērus kumeliņus”). Pork, pīrāgi, root vegetables, cabbage, bread, apples, cranberries, grey peas, beer and sweetbreads are some of the other foods offered.

Of course, every Latvian region and family develops its own traditions, even outside of Latvia. In central Wisconsin, for example, small groups of budēļi come from all over the state, as well as from neighboring states, and meet at a rural farmstead. Then, after singing, dancing, games and a big meal, the mummers and the homeowners settle in for the night and tell ghost stories. The next morning they finish off the feasting with a pancake breakfast.

Mārtiņi also is often a common theme at fall Latvian school parties. Mārtiņi is a short festival—just one day long—but it is a joyful introduction to the long winter season.

A primer on Latvian folk instruments

Although it is always the kokle that first comes to mind when talking about Latvian folk instruments, it is by far not the only one. Here, a brief overview of Latvian musical instruments.

Percussion instruments

Worldwide, percussion instruments are considered the oldest instruments. Most characteristic of the Latvian percussion instruments is the trideksnis (rattle stick), a short wooden handle with small metal pieces attached in rows around one end of the handle. The player shakes the trideksnis like a rattle or hits the handle against his or her other palm, which causes the metal pieces to jingle. Large rattle sticks, called velna bungas (literally, "devil’s drum"), are about 4 feet to 5 feet long and are struck against the floor. The eglīte, or bell tree, is a small spruce tree with the top branches folded down and tied to the center stem, with all sorts of bells, trinkets and decorations attached.

Although there is virtually no archaeological evidence of drums (bungas) in Latvia, it is known from the oral tradition and from historical writings that they were used as signal instruments—to signal a wedding party’s arrival, for example—and also played to accompany dance music.

Bells (zvani) had both a musical and a practical purpose (for example, to keep track of cows) and, though sometimes made of metal, were more commonly made of wood, which was much more plentiful in Latvia. Other percussion instruments include the triangle (trijstūris), buzzer (dūcenis), washboard (robdēlis), tambourine (sietiņš or bubins), and vargans, or Jew’s harp.

Wind instruments

The simplest and oldest of the wind instruments were the whistles (svilpes), which had at most one or two sound holes. They were made of bone, horn, shells, animal teeth, bark and clay. A specialty of Latgale to this day are clay whistles in the form of horses, birds and dragons (svilpaunieki). Stabules (recorders, reeds, flutes) have several sound holes and are made of bark, reeds or bone, but most often of wood. Both svilpes and stabules were favorite playthings of shepherds.

The ganu rags (literally, "shepherds’ horn") is basically a modified stabule. It is made of wood, but with an animal horn attached to enhance the sound. This clarinet-like instrument produces sound with a single reed. Unfortunately it is not heard all that often today. The somas dūkas or dūdas (bagpipe) has been played in Latvia since about the 16th century. It was usually made of sheep’s or goat’s skin, but sometimes even of seal’s or dog’s skin. The bagpipe was and still is a popular instrument, especially for dance and wedding music.

In Latvian, a horn or trumpet made of wood or bark is called a taure, while one made of actual horn is called a rags. Both were considered shepherds’ and young men’s instruments, played to pass the time in the fields, to signal the beginning and end of work, or when lots of noise was needed, such as during wedding celebrations and certain holidays.

Stringed instruments

The stringed instruments are generally more recent. Spēles and pūšļa vijole are primitive instruments that are hardly used anymore. Spēles looks like a hunting bow that is either plucked or a second bow is pulled across the string to produce sound. The player can bend the frame to change its pitch. Pūšļa vijole (literally, "bladder fiddle") is basically a string attached to a wooden base with a blown-up animal bladder acting as a resonator between the base and string. Again, sound is produced by pulling a bow across the string.

The ģīga (trough-fiddle) has a mysterious past—no one really knows where the instrument or its name came from or how old it is. It’s assumed that it is probably related to a similar instrument that was popular in Sweden in the mid-19th century. Also called vienstīdzis or divstīdzis (one-string or two-string), the ģīga is a long, rectangular (about 2 feet to 3 feet long, and 4 inches to 6 inches wide) hollow wooden box with one or two strings attached to the top. It is played horizontally on a table or lap, or less often held vertically, and played with a bow.

And the kokle… That best known of Latvian folk instruments and idyllic symbol of Latvian folk music. Its gentle strums evoke golden memories for most older Latvians, and it is not rare to find a kokle displayed on a prominent shelf in living rooms.

Although a very old instrument, the kokle is still played a lot and holds a special place of honor among Latvians, as well as Lithuanians (kankles), Estonians (kannele) and Finns (kantele). The zither-like instrument is a whittled-out wooden box with a thin wooden cover with sounding holes, often cut in beautiful patterns. Strings are strung across the top of the box in a ray form, that is, strung almost parallel to each other, but closer together on one end, wider apart on the other end. Each string is tuned to a different note in the scale. The oldest kokles have five strings, later versions up to 17 or even 23 strings. Modern "concert" kokles span three octaves and are able to play in all keys. The kokle is usually held in the player’s lap or set on a table, but sometimes it is hung around the player’s neck. Modern concert versions of the kokle are so huge that they must be placed on a stand in front of the player. With the left hand the player silences the strings he or she does not want to hear, while the right hand strums the remaining strings, forming the appropriate chords. Players sometimes also pick separate strings to accentuate melodies. The kokle was and is still used for all sorts of music and purposes.

Modern instruments

The accordion (akordeons), button-accordion (garmoška), violin (vijole), the cītara (chord-zither or dulcimer) or cimbole (cimbalom) are some of the more modern instruments that have made their way from other cultures into Latvian folk music and have found there a very welcome home. Both the accordion and the violin are heavily used to accompany Latvian songs and dances. The cītara is a mid-19th century introduction to Latvian folk music and has taken on a very prominent role in most rural ensembles (lauku kapelas), particularly in the eastern half of the country. The cimbole—similar to the cītara, it is trapezoid in shape and is played with two wooden mallets—is most often found in the southeast corner of Latvia near Belarus and is very similar to the Belorussian national folk instrument.

Now you’ll be able to recognize and know more about what you’re hearing the next time you pull out that folk recording!