One really never knows what to expect from Prāta Vētra. The band prides itself on doing the unexpected, going against conventional wisdom when recording songs and releasing albums. With its latest compact disc, Dienās, kad lidlauks pārāk tāls, the band surprises again.

The first Prāta Vētra album I bought was the 1999 release Starp divām saulēm, which I really liked. I then got the previous album, Viss ir tieši tā kā tu vēlies, released in 1997. Two of my favorite Prāta Vētra songs are on that album (“Tavas mājas manā azotē” and “Romeo un Džuljeta”), but the rest of the album was truly a head-scratching affair. It really was not at all what I was expecting—truly “alternative” rock.

The next album was the 2001 release Kaķēns, kurš atteicās no jūras skolas, which once again had me scratching my head. This time I was left wondering what happened to the guitars and human drummer. The album was a very slick pop affair, heavy on the keyboards and drum machines, light on the guitar and acoustic drums. Perhaps this should not have been a surprise, considering the big hit and Eurovision contender that the super-poppy, yet pretty, “My Star” was (the song was titled “Īssavienojums” in its Latvian version). Regardless, Kaķēns was yet another excellent album from the band, as the songs were stronger than ever.

So what next to expect from Prāta Vētra? Would the next album be farther down the slick pop trail? Or would the band come back and surprise again?

And the band certainly has surprised me again. Considering the group’s massive success not just in Latvia, but around Europe, I expected a very safe, poppy album that would appeal to the masses and sell lots of records. How surprised I was to hear that the guitar was back in full force, like meeting a dear, old friend whom you have not seen in a long time. Even though years may have gone by, after a few minutes it seems like no time has passed at all. Dienās, kad lidlauks pārāk tāls, though once again departing from the previously established trajectory, has all the necessary ingredients to make for a truly classic album.

Presumably I was not the only one to note the conspicuous absence of guitars on many of the tracks on Kaķēns. On the new album, their return is announced on the first track. “Pa pareizām” is a rocking number that gives the listener a hint of what to expect.

Band members have not changed. Besides Renārs Kaupers on vocals, there is Jānis Jubalts on guitar, Kaspars Roga on drums, Māris Mihelsons on keyboards and Mumiņš (Gundars Mauševics) on bass guitar.

Dienās is actually the Latvian version of the album, while A Day Before Tomorrow is the English version. Starting with Starp divām saulēm, Prāta Vētra has released its albums in two versions, English and Latvian. However, a discouraging trend is that fewer and fewer of the songs on the “Latvian” version are actually in Latvian. On Starp divām saulēm all the songs were in Latvian. On Kaķēns, two of the songs were in English. But on Dienās half of the “Latvian” album (six songs) is in English. Perhaps this should not come as a surprise—it is quite demanding of the listening public to expect an album entirely in English and another album entirely in Latvian! Might as well enjoy it while we can, because if the band’s successes continue, it is entirely possible that English will be Prāta Vētra’s “only” language in the future!

(Dienās also is the first album in Latvia to be guarded by anti-copying software, meaning it’s difficult—but not impossible—to make digital copies of the songs.)

Of the English songs, two stand out. “Colder,” the first single off the album, is not your everyday pop song. In fact, it is a more somber, guitar-driven track. The second stand-out song is “Gala Komma,” probably the most surprising song on the album, as it has an almost African beat and rhythm to it. A lot of the words in the song seem to be made up, but perhaps there is some meaning to them. In any case, it is an infectious song, guaranteed to stick in your head. On the whole, the English lyrics on the album are light years ahead in terms of lyricism than Prāta Vētra’s previous albums.

Of the Latvian songs, my favorite is most likely “Es gribu” (“I Want”). Most all of the great Prāta Vētra songs are those that on the outside are upbeat and pretty, but inside have a tinge of sadness. This song is no exception, and it features some great acoustic guitar work from Jubalts. Another of my favorites in the same vein is “Man kabatā” (“In My Pocket”).

Another standout track is the first Latvian single, “Plaukstas lieluma pavasaris” (“Palm-sized Spring”), featuring drummer Roga playing the accordion!

For those who are specifically looking for the slick poppy stuff, never fear. Linda Leen stops by to sing a duet with Kaupers on the overwrought ballad “Reality Show.” The lyrics here are a bit cliche and I usually skip over this track.

Prāta Vētra enlisted British producers Alex Silva (on “Colder” and “Plaukstas lieluma pavasaris”) and Steve Lyon (producer on everything else), giving the album a truly professional sound, though it thankfully it’s not overly slick. Silva has worked with bands like Suede, while Lyon has produced for Depeche Mode and others.

Prāta Vētra even got well-known photographer Anton Corbijn to shoot the album cover and booklet art. Corbijn has worked with a long list of musical performers, including Travis, Depeche Mode and Paul Oakenfold.

But besides the pictures and credits, the album booklet has lyrics for just one song, “Kristiānijas suņi.”

Hardcore Latvian music fans might be disappointed that there are fewer songs in Latvian this time. However, don’t let that discourage you, as the songs here are some of the best work these guys have done. Hopefully those who might have been turned off by the slick and keyboard-intensive Kaķēns will give this album a listen, as they will be pleasantly surprised by what awaits them.

Like most reviewers, I tend to recycle material from time to time. Words and phrases get reused, sometimes deliberately, sometimes because I can’t think of anything better to say. Sometimes you want to say something nice about a song you like, but it is hard to put your finger on exactly why you like the song, so you just pick one of a number of stock phrases. I think the word that I am personally most guilty of overusing is “melancholy.”

Once again this word will be overused, this time in reviewing a recording of the instrument that perhaps best expresses melancholy: the cello. This cello is performed by distinguished Latvian artist Māris Villerušs on the exhaustive two compact disc set Spēlē Māris Villerušs.

I first became acquainted with Villerušs through his performance of the Latvian composer Jānis Ivanovs’ “Cello Concerto.” While unfortunately not included in this set, the full cello concerto with Villerušs can be heard on the Campion CD Janis Ivanovs: Orchestral Works, Vol. 2 (Campion Records 2009). Besides being a fan of Ivanovs, the cello performance made me a fan of Villerušs as well. When I saw Spēlē Māris Villerušs at the record store, I had to pick it up.

And I was not disappointed. The set contains approximately two and a half hours of melancholy cello goodness! The recordings focus on the cello in a chamber music setting, with piano or solo cello. They also run the gamut from the baroque (a “Concerto for Cello” by Antonio Vivaldi) to the modern (Latvian composer Maija Einfelde’s “Monologue for Cello and Piano”) to just about everything in between. You can have your pick of Spanish (Isaac Albeniz’s “Malaguena”), French (Gabriel Faure’s “Revival” or Claude Debussy’s “Minstrelsy”), Russian (a few each from Sergei Rachmaninov and Pyotr Il’yich Tchaikovsky, including the full “Sonata for Cello and Piano in G Major” by Rachmaninov and Tchaikovsky’s “Nocturne”). The Latvian representatives on this disc, though few, are Jāzeps Mediņš’ “Maza serenāde” (Little Serenade) and “Ārija” (Aria), as well as the aforementioned Einfelde piece. Villerušs proves himself to be capable of performing pieces from many different composers, over many different genres.

Accompaning Villerušs on piano on most of the recordings is his wife, Inta. One of my favorite tracks is the Karl Maria von Weber “Rondo.” Though short, it shows the cellist’s technical ability, as well as the interplay between the cello and the piano.

The recordings also span many different decades. They are all taken from the immense archives of Latvian Radio, which are full of some of the best performances by Latvian artists. The oldest recordings on the CD date back to 1962. Villerušs’ durability as a performer cannot be questioned—he has been playing now for better than half a century, and is still going strong.

The only orchestral work on the album is the Vivaldi “Cello Concerto.” It is performed with the Latvian Philharmonic Chamber Orchestra, conducted by Tovijs Lifšics. It has been said that when you’ve heard one Vivaldi concerto, you have heard them all. Although many baroque compositions are “simpler” than music that came later, I think that makes them difficult to perform well. Though the melodies might be simple, only the best performers can make the work truly compelling. Starting with the sad and easy melody of the first movement, Villerušs is able to keep your attention throughout the entire concerto.

Another favorite is Mediņš’ “Ārija.” Once again accompanied by his wife, Villerušs is best qualified to performing this beautifully haunting melody.

Villerušs’ biography is provided in the liner notes by Oļģerts Grāvītis. The liner notes also have the dates of recording for each of the pieces.

This expansive collection is highly recommended for any cello fans or any fans of Latvian classical music. It reinforces why the cello is one of my (and many other people’s) favorite instruments. The cello in the hands of the best cello players provides a truly moving experience. Two full CDs of some of the best cello playing by Māris Villerušs—how could you go wrong?

After what seemed to be an interminable length of time, the MICREC recording house in August released Dziesmu izlase #3, the third and final compact disc compilation of Latvian rock group Pērkons’ early albums. The previous compilation came out in 1996.

Once again, the release features two albums on one CD, this time 1990’s Ballīte and 1991’s Latviskā virtuvē. Both original releases were long out of print (Ballīte was supposedly released on vinyl but I never saw it on any of my trips to Latvia, and Latviskā virtuve didn’t even have an official release, per se). MICREC has done a phenomenal job of releasing the pearls of Latvian music on CD and this is yet another treasure that I am very thankful has once again seen the light of day.

As with many Latvian groups, it is sometimes very difficult to know what to expect with Pērkons. The first compilation, Dziesmu izlase #1, collected songs from 1981 and 1982 featured some rather raw tracks, with the focus being on the guitar. However, it did have some more sublime moments, including the hit “Pie baltās lapas.” It is a beautiful song that has the distinction of being the very first to break Raimonds Pauls’ stranglehold on the Mikrofons song competition (achieving first place at the Mikrofons 83 competition).

The second compilation, Dziesmu izlase #2, reissued albums from 1985 and 1987. It was a far more mature effort and featured hit after hit (such as “Zaļā dziesma,” “Gandrīz tautas dziesma” and “Cik pulkstens”).

What to expect from the third compilation? Surprises abound, and there are enough great songs to make the lengthy wait for this release worthwhile.

I previously had heard only two songs on Dziesmu izlase #3. The first was megahit “Mēs pārtiekam viens no otra” (lyrics by Viks, who is composer Imants Kalniņš’ brother, Viktors Kalniņš), a song that once again got Pērkons to first place in the Mikrofons song competition, this time 1989. It is easy to understand why, as it is one of Pērkons’ most moving songs. The oft repeated lyric, “Mēs pārtiekam viens no otra, un neviss no pārtikas precēm,” also likely struck a chord in many listeners in those final days of Soviet occupation. The music and the lyrics combined perfectly.

The second song I had heard—on the 1990 Vecais ratiņš aptauja record—was “Ballīte” (lyrics provided by famous Latvian author Anšlāvs Eglītis), which is just about my favorite Pērkons song of all time. The title is appropriate for the song, as it actually makes me want to dance. It is such a rousing number. Just having this song finally on CD makes the entire collection worthwhile.

The major fault of this CD release is that lyrics are not included. I always have had trouble figuring out the words to “Ballīte.”

All of the music on this CD, as well as all on the other CDs, was composed by the group’s keyboardist, Juris Kulakovs. In recent times, he has made a name for himself by composing a number of “long form” pieces, as well as performing with the Latvian Three Tenors.

The rest of Pērkons includes Nauris Puntulis on vocals, Juris Sējāns on bass guitar and vocals, Leons Sējāns on guitars and vocals, Ikars Ruņģis on drums and Raimonds Bartaševics on vocals, as well as the famed singer Ieva Akurātere.

Though very able to craft hit singles, the band also had a number of songs that are at once unusual and creative, and often times the lyrics are either humorous or just plain strange. For example, the song “Lūgums,” with lyrics by Andris Žebers, is basically a request to not stand on the toilet with your feet, because that will leave black footprints (other people have to sit there, you know). Another example is one of my favorites, “Kamēr es tevi mīleju” (lyrics by Juris Kronbergs), which, for the most part, is a straight ahead rock song, with a guy detailing all the things a girl did while he loved her (she became a vegetarian, she fought for women’s rights, she went to the dentist, etc.). This song also features a vocal appearance by Kulakovs, who details how penicillin makes you weak and want to sleep all the time.

As with the second compilation, the capacity of the format limits the number of songs that could be put on the CD. The songs “Saule purā” and “Viss rudens,” as well as the instrumental finale to the play “Spēlēju, dancoju,” can only be found on the cassette version.

The packaging is skimpy: No lyrics, just pictures of the band members. It would have been nice to read some of the likely very interesting history of this band.

This third compilation illustrates again why Pērkons is one of the most beloved bands in Latvia. Even though these were the band’s last albums (released more than a decade ago now), the group is still popular and attracts concertgoers.

The future might even bring a new album, which I think will be eagerly anticipated by many. Hopefully that album will include the also-not-available-on-CD song “Kāzas,” which can only be found on the Mikrofons 93 cassette. Also worth releasing on CD are the “alternate” versions of “Gandrīz tautas dziesma” from the Mikrofons 87 record and “Mana dienišķā dziesma” from the Mikrofons 88 Stafete record. In any case, this CD has enough gems to tide me over for at least the foreseeable future.