To call Prāta Vētra a Latvian phenomenon would be an understatement. In a time when other groups struggle to attract listeners to concerts and sell very few albums (partly due to piracy, partly due to listener apathy), Prāta Vētra (or, outside of Latvia, BrainStorm) defies expectations and sells many compact discs and attracts hordes of people of all ages to their concerts.

It has to be seen to be believed. The Prāta Vētra juggernaut rolled into Rīga on Aug. 21. The open-air venue at Mežaparks was filled with listeners eagerly awaiting the concert. Reports are that more than 40,000 people attended. After the concert ended, the flow of people reminded me of that episode of “MacGyver” where he battled army ants—just this ocean of humanity all hoping to make it to the tram or trolleybus or other method of transportation.

The last time I saw Prāta Vētra was in December 2000 at Ķīpsalas halle in Rīga. Though also a reasonably sized venue, there were significantly less people there, maybe a thousand or so. That concert, as well as the 2003 concert at the Skonto stadions (available for viewing on a highly recommended DVD) gave an idea of what makes this band so popular. Prāta Vētra has all the necessary tools to be successful: great songs, quality musicianship, a charismatic frontman in Renārs Kaupers, and—essential—an army of teenage girls ready to scream their lungs out (not to mention buy their records!).

After calling the information service 118 to find out what time Prāta Vētra would be on stage and being told 9 p.m., I headed off to Mežaparks. Around 9 p.m. the second opening band, Double Faced Eels, took the stage. The Eels are a punk-pop band and have a current hit, “Zilais valis” (“Blue Whale”). I’m not too familiar with the band’s music, but they played well and were having a good time, so the time spent with them was enjoyable. I missed the first opening act, Mofo. Influenced by British pop, Mofo has recorded several singles and expects to release its first album this fall.
At this point, I was standing near the stage. But as 10 p.m. approached, it seemed like all 40,000 audience members wanted to get closer to the stage, so it got more and more packed to the point where I was unable to move. I had elbows digging into me from all sides. It seemed wise to extricate myself from this mass of people, so, sucking in my chest, I pushed my way out. I find it hard to believe that no one got seriously hurt at the concert, as it must have gotten even crazier near the stage when the band took the stage and everyone started jumping up and down. Some people had brought their little children—perhaps not the wisest course of action, but I guess everything turned out all right in the end.

Prāta Vētra opened with the title track of its most recent album, Četri krasti. The crowd became electrified and sang along with every word. For the next two hours, Prāta Vētra performed both old and new songs, and the audience was in a rapturous state the entire time.
Acknowledging the diversity of the audience, Kaupers addressed the audience in three different languages—Latvian, Russian and English.

I am not a fan of huge concerts like this. Besides the long lines at the bathroom, there is a certain loss of intimacy at these mass gatherings. The artists seem so distant, and usually the sound is muddy (especially in open air venues like Mežaparks). But the sound was better than expected. Vocals were clear and the instruments were distinguishable. However, with that number of people, the side effect is that often the audience is louder than the band. This was the case at more than a few moments during the concert, especially during the quieter songs like “Spogulīt, spogulīt…” Though it is nice that the band is able to bring record-breaking numbers of people together for a concert, I would much rather prefer that Prāta Vētra plays smaller venues.

Above all, the band was very, very polished. Everyone was in top form, knowing that they had 40,000 people to satisfy. In big shows like this, there is very little room for anything to go wrong, and as far as I saw nothing did. The performance was precise and professional.

The setlist was a balanced mix of new and old. I have found Prāta Vētra’s latest album, Četri krasti, to be one of the band’s weaker efforts, and do not like it as much as the band’s best albums (in my opinion, Kaķēns, kurš atteicās no jūrasskolas from 2001 and Dienās, kad lidlauks pārāk tāls from 2003). However, one of my favourite songs from the album, “Kur milzu kalni liekas mazi,” was not performed.

Because no concert review would be complete without complaints about the set list, I must beg the question as to why nothing was played from Viss ir tieši tā kā tu vēlies. No “Tavas mājas manā azotē” or “Romeo un Džuljeta”? In fact, quite a number of big hits were left out, for example, “Tu izvēlējies palikt,” “Starp divām saulēm,” “Brīvdienas nav manas laimīgas dienas” or “Īssavienojums.” I agree that the big hits sometimes need a bit of a rest or they get stale, but the band did find the time to play “Lidmašīnas”—a song that certainly can use a bit of rest.

However, the set list had many standout selections. Highlights of the concert were songs from Dienās, kad lidlauks pārāk tāls, including the driving “Pa pareizām” and the lyrically beautiful “Es gribu.” The song that received the loudest response was the Russian-language “Skoļzkie uļici” (“Slippery Streets”). Originally recorded with the Russian group Bi-2, the song is not on any Prāta Vētra album, but can be heard on MICREC’s 100% svaigs Nr. 6 compilation.

The group had set up a mini-stage, decorated to look like a living room, beyond the main stage in the crowd. From here the band went deep into its back catalogue, drawing a few numbers from the recently re-released album Veronika and elsewhere. In an odd segue, Prāta Vētra went from its first big hit, “Ziema,” to the Latvian folk song “Es nenācu šai vietā” (though thankfully the band only performed the first few of the dozen-some verses of the song). The highlight of this section of the concert, and a particularly pleasant surprise, was the performance of the Imants Kalniņš song “Elpo.”

Particularly touching was Prāta Vētra’s tribute to Mumiņš (Gundars Mauševics), the band’s bass guitarist who died in an automobile accident last year. A recording of the song “Spacemuminsh” was played while photographs and short movies of him were shown on a large screen.

The audience was overall very well behaved, though hopefully no one got crushed there in the mob in front of the stage. With all the people carrying beer around I’m surprised I wasn’t drenched by the end of the concert, but I did get smoke blown in my face from all directions. The benches in Mežaparks got the brunt of the abuse. Audience members were standing and jumping up and down on them, so quite a few are going to need replacing!

The subdued waltz-like “Māsa nakts” from Četri krasti closed out the evening. Perhaps after a two-hour, high-energy affair, this was an appropriate warmdown to end the evening on a mellow note. Then began the mad dash to the trams (sardines, anyone?) which supposedly were going to be free for all but ‘twas not the case.

Overall it was a very enjoyable evening. The lack of intimacy and the throngs of screaming fans did nothing to dispel the notion that Prāta Vētra is a truly great band. Even when before 40,000 people, it knows how to send everyone home happy and made this concert (as most every Prāta Vētra concert) a special event. Quibbles about the set list aside, with two hours of music how can you go wrong? Come back soon!

Many pages have been written about how difficult the French horn is to play. Due to its tiny mouthpiece, it takes serious determination to be able to play the thing. Because it is so difficult to play well, it also makes it a less popular musical instrument. However, in the hands of a capable player, the French horn can be one of the most beautiful of instruments—though true masters of the French horn are few and far between.

One of those masters must be Latvian French horn player Arvīds Klišāns, who has been making his mark in the music world for the last half-century. Listeners who have heard the compact discs Latvian Millennium Classics or Latviešu klasikas dārgumi will have already heard Klišāns’ playing on the Andrejs Jurjāns piece “Bakarola.” Arvīds Klišāns Rīgas Domā, a full compact disc of his work released in 2003, is an apt document of one of Latvia’s many great talents.

This CD is a compilation of recordings of Klišāns at the Rīga Dome cathedral. All the pieces are duets with the famous organ (played by well known Latvian organists Aivars Kalējs, Oļģerts Cintiņš and Tālivaldis Deksnis). The recordings span the years from 1980-1998, and are taken from the archives of Latvian Radio. The organ and French horn combination, while unusual, offers some unique possibilities for the performers and the listeners, and leads to some very beautiful arrangements.

A range of different composers are heard on the CD. From the Baroque era there is “Andante” by George Handel. From the Mozart family, there is a concerto for French horn by Leopold Mozart and “Larghetto” by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. And, for those seeking something a bit more modern, there is the “Missa muta” by Bernhard Krol.

The CD also contains a biography of the artist (both in Latvian and in English) by Vilnis Strautiņš that details his amazing career. Klišāns’ repertoire is quite diverse and he performs frequently. He also performs benefit concerts in churches, helping to modernize and refurbish them.

The recording is an excellent retrospective of the performances of Klišāns with organ throughout the years. So many instrumental talents have come from Latvia, and this CD shows that Klišāns is one of them. The beautiful interplay between the organ and the French horn is one of the main reasons to listen to this disc, as a French horn in the hands of a master like Klišāns is a wonder to hear.

What would be more natural than to put two major musical stars of the Latvian Reawakening period together on one record? Quite possibly the best known and most recognizable male and female voices from the late 1980s, Ieva Akurātere and Igo (Rodrigo Fomins), came together in 1990 to sing songs with lyrics by Igo and music by Aivars Hermanis. The result, Klusums starp mums, was originally released on vinyl in 1991 and was re-released on compact disc in 2003 as part of MICREC’s “Latviešu populārās mūzikas klasika” series.

I had picked up this record back in 1991 simply because both artists were familiar. My perception back then was that while the performance itself was of high quality, the songs were a bit lackluster. I listened to the album a few times, then filed it away somewhere amongst my parents’ large record collection. I am not sure if I listened to it again after that.

As it turns out, what I think now is not much different than what I thought then. Production and performance are first rate, but the songs aren’t strong enough to warrant regular repeat listening.

Besides Akurātere and Igo, performing on the album are Aivars Hermanis on guitars, keyboards and percussion, Eduards Glotovs on bass, and Oļegs Upenieks on percussion.

The CD is labeled as “the sexiest Latvian music album” and I will not disagree with that statement (mainly due to the minimal competition for that title among Latvian releases.) The label also gives the general idea of the album—romantic songs about love and intimacy and such things. The entire album has a very “subdued” feeling, most likely intentional, as many of the songs have Akurātere and Igo practically whispering into their respective microphones.

The CD doesn’t just have songs, but also some unusual interludes, mainly dialogue between Akurātere and Igo that seems to me a bit out of place.

Hermanis’ guitar playing is quite tasteful in a number of places, including on the song “Ēnas zīmē mūsu stāvus,” in which he plays a number of nice acoustic runs.

Probably my favorite song on the album is the final one, “Par klusumu.” The combination of Akurātere and Igo works best here. With barely more than just an acoustic guitar, the vocal melodies allow the singers to shine, and the result is a very pretty song.

I didn’t like the record the first time around because I expected something a bit different (Akurātere at the time was with Pērkons and Igo with Remix, both well-known Latvian rock bands). Perhaps I expected something more in that vein. For whatever reason, even now when I know what to expect these songs don’t really stay with me after listening.

The liner notes (which include all lyrics, as well as an essay by music publicist Daiga Mazvērsīte) state that this record was a bestseller at the time of its initial release. That shows you what I know. This is a very relaxed record. It works well as a romantic album. The record is not quite up there with, say, Marvin Gaye, but it holds its own.

If nothing else, this record once again proves the vocal talents of both Akurātere and Igo, as well as the talents of Hermanis. The remastering also sounds great. Thanks also must be given to MICREC for continuing to re-release classic and significant albums in Latvian music history—and not just those by Raimonds Pauls! Hopefully they will get to Akurātere’s solo album, too.

If you are looking for some light, romantic music that just happens to be in Latvian, look no further.