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.

I was flying back to the United States from Latvia for Christmas, and wanted to pick up some gifts for my parents. I saw the new Skandinieki compact disc, Dzied un spēle Skandinieki, and bought a copy. Although I enjoy a good folk song every now and then, overall I am not a fan of the genre. I wasn’t expecting much from this CD, but since I had a long flight, I gave it a listen. I must have liked it, because as soon as I got back to Latvia, I bought a copy for myself. Though it is in the traditional folklore vein, there is enough good stuff on this CD for me to strongly recommend it to anyone, even those outside of the folklore connoisseur set.

Skandinieki is a collective of singers and instrumentalists (a total of 23 are credited on this recording) that marked its 27th anniversary last November. The core of Skandinieki is the Stalts family. Dāvis, Helmi, Julgī, Marga and Ričards Stalts perform on this CD. Of note is that the Stalts are of Liv descent. Though their numbers have fallen through the years, the Livs are still alive and well in Latvia. The 30 songs contained on this CD cover all aspects of folklore, with beautiful singing and melodies, some of them in Livonian.

Most of the songs are sung a capella, but there is occasional musical accompaniment. Unfortunately, the liner notes don’t detail who plays what, or even what kind of instrument is being played.

Favorites on the album include the opening song, “Gauži raud saulīte,” which is about the sun crying its eyes out over a golden apple falling from an apple tree—among other things. The singer tells the sun not to worry about it, as God will make another one. It’s a truly beautiful way to begin the recording and, I’m not sure why, but this song gets me all weepy whenever I hear it.

Another beautiful song is “Kam, muomeņ, tu audzēji,” in which the narrator chastises her mother for growing a birch tree in the yard, because a potential suitor caught her napping by it in the middle of a day.

I also liked “Skaļi dziedu, gavilēju.” It reminds me of one of my favorite songs from when I was in the London Latvian Choir, “Aurēdama vēju māte.” Both songs have similar melodies and each verse begins with the “teicējs” singing the first line with the chorus joining in afterwards.

Skandinieki sing in Livonian on “Sūr rīnda.” It is interesting that in the liner notes this song is not just translated into English, as is every other song, but into Latvian as well, though it appears that only the first verse is translated. The song is about a girl who apparently has low self-esteem. She asks her mother what to do: all the pretty girls are standing in a line, but where should she stand, being “unattractive.” Unfortunately, because the second verse is not translated, I don’t know how the story ends. I especially enjoyed the interesting instrumentation on this one, with what sounds like an accordion, some kind of guitar, and a recorder-like instrument.

And fear not, droning fans, there is some droning for you here, too. For example, on “Tumsināja,” for those of you who can’t sing, you can drone that “ēēēēēē” to your heart’s content! The occasional droning song does not decrease my enjoyment of this CD, as it helps provide a more “complete” folklore picture.

Skandinieki has done an admirable job of bringing these songs to life, and keeping alive not just Latvian folk songs, but Livonian as well. This CD truly captures the simple joy of singing, and it is very infectious.