It goes without saying that Latvians have many beloved folk songs. It also goes without saying that Latvians love singing, especially folk songs. Also well known is the fact that the Latvian Radio Choir, conducted by Sigvards Kļava, is one of the best choirs in Latvia, if not the world. It is appropriate, then, that just in time for the 2008 Latvian Song Festival the record label Upe tuviem un tāliem would release a collection of folk songs, Skaisti dziedi.

When I heard about the compact disc, I picked it up as soon as I could. What surprised me is that only half of the songs are full choir performances. The rest are solo performances.

The choir arrangements are all the “classic” arrangements such as “Pūt, vējiņi” and “Kur tu skriesi vanadziņi” by Andrejs Jurjāns, “Rīga dimd” and “Krauklīt’s sēž ozolā” by Jānis Cimze, and “Cekulaine zīle dzied” and “Tumša nakte, zaļa zāle” by Emilis Melngailis. Though these songs have been recorded many, many times, the presentation by the Latvian Radio Choir and conductor Kļava remains fresh and engaging.

The other half of the disc contains performances by solo artists such as folk singer Zane Šmite (“Vedat mani ciema puiši”) and Kārlis Rūtentāls (“Kur tu teci gailīti mans” and “Skaisti dziedi lakstīgala”), as well as the duo of countertenor Ārijs Šķepasts and bass Gundars Dziļums on the old favorite “Kur tad tu nu biji, āzīti manu.” Most all of these performances feature kokle prodigy Laima Jansone (in fact, she arranged every song she plays on—more than a dozen). Still not quite yet finished at the Latvian Academy of Music, she already is able to make quite a name for herself as a rising star of the kokle, one of the most Latvian of all instruments.

The only spots where the collection stumbles are the performances of “Āvu, āvu baltas kājas” and “Bēdu manu lielu bēdu” by soprano Elīna Libauere. The songs, in my opinion, are sung way too fast! It is for the same reason that I wasn’t too fond of the Liku bēdu zem akmeņa folk song collection released by Upe in 2007. Certainly it is a technical achievement to be able to sing a song at 90 miles per hour with barely a breath, but at that speed much of the joy and fun of these songs is diminished.

All song texts are included, including English translations that perhaps may lead to bewilderment among some who may not understand why a tune about an “alleged” drunk horse runner became such a beloved song.

Honestly, instead of the half CD of choir arrangements and half CD of solo performances, I would have preferred a full CD of each. Conspicuously absent are the Latgallian “Aiz azara augsti kolni” (also by Jurjāns) or any of the many arrangements of “Ziedi, ziedi, rudzu vārpa.” Of course, with literally hundreds of choir arrangements of folk songs, one has to be very selective. Perhaps in the future we could hope for another CD of all modern folk song arrangements, including favorites such as Anita Kuprisa’s arrangmenet of “Ģērbies, saule, sudrabota,” or Imants Ramiņš’ arrangement of “Pūt, vējiņi,” or Selga Mence’s arrangement of “Neba maize pate nāca,” to name just a few.

As a collection of Latvian folk songs, containing old favorites and new arrangements for solo performers, this is one of the best to have ever been released, and well worth picking up. The Latvian Radio Choir and Kļava, not to mention kokle performer Jansone, are to be commended for such great performances, which will remind all listeners of the value and beauty of these timeless songs.

Unlike many pop groups, Prāta vētra goes out of its way to make each new record noticeably different than the last one. Perhaps due a desire to fully and unequivocally break with the past, on its latest album, Tur kaut kam ir jābūt, the band has gone off on a very unusual tangent, diverging completely with the styles of previous records and resulting in a rather baffling work.

Not content to simply recreate a previously used winning formula, the band likes to explore new avenues and to surprise listeners with new sounds and arrangements. Sometimes this can be a bit surprising (if not shocking) to the listener. For example, there’s the move from the light and catchy pop of 1999’s Starp divām saulēm to 2001’s synth-heavy and slightly darker Kaķēns, kurš atteicās no jūras skolas and then back to a guitar-driven sound on 2003’s Dienās, kad lidlauks pārāk tāls.

Četri krasti (2005), was one of the band’s weaker efforts. Outside of the title track and the songs “Pilots Tims” and “Kur milžu kalni liekās mazi,” there wasn’t much memorable or inspired on the record. So, with the tiniest bit of apprehension, I picked up Tur kaut kam ir jābūt.

Firstly, it is worth pointing out that the group has moved away from recording in other countries and using internationally known artists and producers. Songs on previous records had been recorded in Germany, Denmark and elsewhere with producers such as Steve Lyon. For Tur kaut kam ir jābūt, most everyone involved is Latvian. Also, this is the first album since Starp divām saulēm to be entirely in Latvian. Not a single song of the 13 tracks is in English (last I heard, the English version of the album is forthcoming and will be titled Fire Monkey). The album’s producer is Latvian hip-hop artist Gustavo (Gustavs Butelis), the album was recorded entirely in Rīga and album artwork was provided by Latvian painter Otto Zitmanis.

The core of Prāta vētra remains singer Renārs Kaupers, guitarist Jānis Jubalts, keyboardist Māris Mihelsons and drummer Kaspars Roga. Hired hand Ingars Viļums plays bass.

The choice of Gustavo as producer was certainly a fateful one, as it would appear the hip-hop artist had a significant influence on the sound of the album. Not only producing, he also provides lyrics and backing vocals on a number of songs. The drums and bass guitar are brought forward on these songs, with guitar buried further back in the mix, and the songs have a far more aggressive sound. For example, in “Ja tikai uz mani tu paskatītos” Kaupers urgently shouts the lyrics of the song, which contains some rather cringe-inducing moments such as “Mobīlais tavs, kas vienmēr ir zonā” (I will be your mobile phone, that always has reception).

That is followed up by the equally aggressive “Bronza,” which now has added distortion on Kaupērs’ vocals, also featuring backup vocals by Gustavo.

Much like on the Kaķēns record, guitarist Jubalts is rarely heard, which is unfortunate. Prāta vētra is at its best when the guitar is at the forefront. I remain convinced that the guitar-heavy Dienās kad lidlauks pārāk tāls remains the band’s best work, both musically and lyrically.

The new album’s first radio single, “Ai nu lai” (released in English as “And I Lie”), reminds me of some of the Rolling Stones’ work from the 1980s with attempts to make the music more funky (with varying results) and overly depending on backing vocals (on this song, provided by Gunārs Kalniņš and the GG choir).

One of the brighter moments on the album is the lyrically dense “Par podu.” To be honest, I am not quite sure what the song is about, but I enjoy the rambling lyrics and the simple yet captivating melody. Another enjoyable song is the title track, which has Kaupers singing a melody over sparse instrumentation and an interesting rhythm from drummer Roga, but the “rap” by Gustavo on this one detracts from the song itself.

Reflecting the eclectic nature of the songs, there is the Asian-sounding instrumental “Sīama” (featuring kanun performer Taner Sayacioglu), leading into the song “Es jau nāku,” featuring nei flute performed by Senol Filiz and guitar by Birol Yayla. Though a Latvian-Asian song could have been rather interesting to listen to, this winds up being one of the duller moments on the album.

Prāta vētra has been at its best with quirky yet catchy pop songs. Even the otherwise unremarkable Četri krasti had the poppy “Pilots Tims.” The only song on Tur kaut kam ir jābūt resembling a pop song is “Bēdz,” but even that song has some rather odd and distracting sound effects near the end.

It is commendable that the group continues to explore new avenues in its songwriting and sound and does not continue to recycle the same formula. It would certainly be dreadful to have to listen to an album made up purely of songs similar to earlier hits like “Brīvdienas nav manas laimīgās dienas” and “Spogulīts.”

Listeners well acquainted with songs like “Starp divām saulēm” and “Es gribu” may be a bit shocked by the new direction of the band. However, this latest venture of Prāta vētra’s winds up being slightly too eclectic for its own good, with uneven focus.

In the end, it is not much fun to listen to. It reminds me of efforts by other groups to prove that they are “mature” songwriters, in order to impress their critics (and, at the same time, alienating a certain section of their fanbase). Looking at some other reviews of the album, it seems that I am in the minority here, so your mileage may vary. The record certainly isn’t bad. Production and performance remain top notch, but I find this album, due to the divergent styles of the songs, difficult to listen to and missing the off-beat humor that many of the band’s earlier songs had.

The group, which remains Latvia’s most popular ensemble, has taken a big risk with this album. I am not sure it has paid off.

Pete Anderson (or Pīts Andersons in Latvian) is one of the most unusual musicians in Latvia. His latest album, Brass-a-Billy, is an excellent collection of classic songs as well as Anderson originals. The album’s title comes from the style of music Anderson performs: a combination of brass instruments with rockabilly melodies.

Anderson’s entire career is based upon the concept that rock music pretty much reached its peak in the 1950s, and certainly a very strong argument could be made for that theory. The music Anderson plays glorifies that era, a time when music and lyrics were simple, fun and exuberant, and much of the angst of today’s music was nowhere to be found. Even in deepest, darkest Soviet times, Anderson was performing this style of music and was just about the only person in Latvia to do so.

His biography is at times tragic and at times inspirational. Playing rock-and-roll, not to mention songs in English, was frowned upon by the Soviets. Anderson was called before the State Security Committee many times, and one time the committee even threatened his family if he didn’t give up doing what he was doing. Fortunately, with time the situation changed and he was able to continue doing what he did best. Anderson has also performed in many different countries, including the United States, Great Britain and all over Europe.

On Brass-a-Billy, Anderson provides all the vocals and is joined by an impressive list of musicians. All the songs are in mildly accented English, but there is not much else that would indicate they are performed entirely by Latvians. If the goal is to authentically recreate a 1950s sound, that is quite the accomplishment.

Included on the compact disc are songs like “R-O-C-K” by Bill Haley and the Comets, “Little Sister” by Doc Pomus and Mort Shuman, “Am I Blue” by Grant Clarke and Harry Akst and many others.

Anderson also has a few originals on the album, including “Brassabilly Boogie” and “Red Corvette,” which seamlessly fit in with the classic tracks of the past.

Also included on the CD are two bonus tracks, “Calling all Comets” recorded in 1989 and “Jump, Jive an’ Wail” recorded in 1990—long before Brian Setzer had a big hit with the song. The CD also has the music video for “Jump, Jive an’ Wail.”

It is refreshing to hear a record that is so very unpretentious. Anderson’s goal is to play good old rock-and-roll, without any of the moroseness and misery that creeps into a lot of modern music. The music, as well as Anderson himself, is unabashedly retro and a blast to listen to from beginning to end.