The composer of 20 full symphonies, Jānis Ivanovs (1906-1983) left an enduring mark on Latvian orchestral music. Much of what he composed is difficult to find on compact disc, but earlier this year Upe tuviem un tāliem released a collection of Ivanovs’ instrumental concertos—his cello concerto, violin concerto and piano concerto. The orchestra behind them all is the Latvian National Symphony Orchestra, conducted by Imants Resnis.

The highlight of the CD Jānis Ivanovs (1906-1983): Instrumentālie koncerti is the “Cello Concerto in B minor.” Composed in 1938 (before the Soviet occupation), the work shows Ivanovs at his melodic best. The cello is performed by Agnese Rugēvica, principal cellist in the Latvian National Symphony Orchestra as well as the Bergen Symphony Orchestra in Norway. The second movement, the “Adagio,” is particularly lyrical and haunting, emotionally expressed in the minor key.

This is one of Ivanovs’ best known works and it is clear why. The melancholy and stress of the work (elegantly brought out by Rugēvica) leave a lasting impression on the listener. Perhaps Ivanovs was sensing that war was soon to break out—or perhaps not. (The completist may also want to seek out the CD Janis Ivanovs: Orchestral Works, Vol. 2, released on the Campion label but long out of print. It features another excellent interpretation of the concerto, this time by renowned cellist Māris Villerušs.)

Thirteen years later, in 1951, Ivanovs composed the “Violin Concerto in E minor.” With Soviet occupation well underway, composition had a Stalinist ideology forced upon it. Music needed to be composed in a way that the people could understand. Even with that enforced ideology, Ivanovs crafted an excellent work, even incorporating some scenes from everyday Latvian life into the music. This performance features the young violinst Vineta Sareika, a graduate of the Paris Conservatoire who was nominated for the Latvian Music Award in 2007 for her performance of the concerto with the Liepāja Symphony Orchestra. Sareika adds a delicate touch to the almost naïve, though illustrative, melody, particularly in the first movement.

The most modern sounding work on the CD is the “Piano Concerto in G minor,” composed in 1959. Piano duties are performed by well-known Latvian pianist Juris Žvikovs, who teaches at the Latvian Academy of Music and who in 2006 released the excellent and thorough collection of Latvian piano music, Latviešu klaviermūizkas antoloģija. This concerto, composed at the end of the 1950s, helped usher in a new style in Latvian orchestral music that would develop further in the 1960s. It is characterized by more complex themes and even, at times, a certain amount of harshness. In contrast to the first and third movements, the second movement of the “Piano Concerto” displays Ivanovs’ trademark grasp of melody and interplay between the solo instrument and orchestra. Žvikovs seamlessly moves between the urgency of the first and third movements and the more melodic second movement, displaying an intimate knowledge of the work and how to present it.

Particularly notable about this release is the packaging. It is presented as a photo album, faux leather cover and all. There are plenty of pictures, as well as thorough liner notes on the composer, the works and the performers all written by Ilma Grauzdiņa. An English translation is provided. The packaging strikes me as a bit gimmicky, though it certainly stands out and shows a clear appreciation of the music and talent of the composer and the performers. At the same time that Upe tuviem and tāliem introduced the Ivanovs CD, it released a similar disc of instrumental concertos by composer Romualds Kalsons.

The packaging may be gimmicky, but the music certainly is not. These are some of the most important (and best) works of Latvian classical music, and are a worthy addition to any listener’s library. Though unfortunately long neglected, the orchestral work of Ivanovs is brought back out into the light by the always excellent Latvian National Symphony Orchestra and conductor Resnis, as well as the soloists. This great Latvian composer’s legacy remains assured.

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.