Komersanti (The Merchants) play music in a folksy, country style. I wouldn’t necessarily call it schlager, though I think this album would appeal to schlager fans. Actually, they remind me a bit more of Bet Bet than anyone else. In any case, their 2002 album, Rozīt’ latviskā, is a collection of 12 songs in a number of different kind of folk styles.

The group is made up of Juris Pavītols on vocals and guitar (he’s also the main songwriter), Norlands Millers on guitar and vocals, Aldis Žīmants on bass guitar and vocals, and Edijs Cionelis on drums.

Komersanti prove themselves excellent musicians. However, the songs do not stay in memory very long, and I probably will not listen to this album much in the future.

One of my criticisms of this album is technical: the production makes some of the songs sound like they were recorded in an echo chamber. This is particularly evident on the lead track, “Roze,” which is a nice little song about a Latvian rose that is blooming somewhere very far away. Though this was probably my favorite song on the album, the echo effect on this song is a bit annoying.

Komersanti also must have listened to a few American country records, because there is a country feel to many of the songs. A good example is “Oda lidojums” (The Mosquito’s Flight), where the guitar work gives this song a particularly country feel. To further illustrate the country influence, they even have a song with a horse motif, “Zirga smaids” (The Horse’s Smile). No songs about pickup trucks, though!

Another song I like is “Aizlūgums.” Although once again in a country style, it is a very catchy, inoffensive song. “Velna dziesma” (The Devil’s Song), performed in more of a “boogie” style, is another a song I like. “Tu tik man netraucē” (Don’t You Disturb Me) is also a catchy song. I’m not sure who sings on the track, though it sounds strangely like Ainars Virga from the guitar rock group Līvi, as the vocal is rather deep and gruff. Like Līvi, Komersanti are from Liepāja, while Pavītols (who is a bit of rock legend in Latvia) has ties to Līvi.

Liner notes are very sparse, with no lyrics and just a few pictures of the band. Not knowing much about this group, it would have been nice to have a bit more information about the group in the notes.

Overall, Rozīt’ latviskā is not a bad album, but there are no songs that leap out and demand you listen to them over and over again. It is clear that these guys got together to play music, mainly because they enjoy it—and that is a good thing. They aren’t trying to change the world with their songs, and it is nice to listen to some music that isn’t overly earnest or overly serious.This is much better than much of the schlager in Latvia, as it isn’t bogged down by cheesy synthesizer tracks and drum machines. And because the members of the group are capable musicians, the album itself is very professionally done.

If you have an aversion to schlager or country music, best to avoid this release. This album is for those who prefer their music very mellow and with few surprises.

During the Rīga 800 celebration last year, one of the highlights for me was the all-day music performances on the big stage by the Daugava River. The entire day was devoted to all kinds of Latvian bands, of all different styles and sounds. Two bands caught my interest. The first was Deus sex machina (formerly named Deus ex machina), followed by Dzelzs vilks. It was a very hot day, and perhaps I was suffering from heat exhaustion, but it appeared that the groups were one and the same—no personnel changes happened between their sets. This is not a surprise as the guitarist, Juris Kaukulis, plays in both groups (as well as sings in Dzelzs vilks). I enjoyed their performance, as the group had a heavy, aggressive industrial sound, balanced by intricate keyboard parts.

After the performance, I picked up the Deus sex machina recording of the Fausts rock opera. Unfortunately, it was not to my liking, though the performances on the album were all good. On that recording, Kaukulis was joined by Andris Vilcāns (the composer of the music) on keyboards. Perhaps I would have appreciated the record more if I had actually seen the rock opera, but this compact disc rarely gets into my CD player.

After hearing and liking the song “Ledus” on the Black Friday Vol. IV compilation, I decided to pick up the latest Dzelzs vilks CD. The UPE Recording Co.‘s Web site explained that it is the band’s third album, but only the first to be released on CD. Even though I didn’t like the Fausts recording, my expectations were still high, since this was a different group on the CD, and the songs were the band’s own compositions. However, I found Lai arī Tu būtu ar mani a rather dull affair.

Kaukulis is joined by Armands Butkevičs on bass, Mārcis Judzis on drums and Kaspars Tobis on programming.  Kaukulis also wrote all the music and lyrics for the record.

The music is all in the industrial metal style. That on its own is not why I dislike the album, but it becomes clear from listening to the record that the participants spent a lot of time listening to bands like Nine Inch Nails and other industrial bands. This results the album sounding like a diluted Nine Inch Nails record, on which Dzelzs vilks tries to recreate the sound of a better-known band, but without great success.

It also seems at times that the guitar sound does not change much throughout the album. It remains in the “crunchy” style from beginning to end. This gives the album a repetitive sound and even after multiple listenings I have difficulty distinguishing between many of the songs.

The album starts out well enough with the title track “Lai arī Tu būtu ar mani.” It is a good introduction to the band, with heavy guitars, prominent synthesizers and Kaukulis singing like a soul in torment. The lyrics of this song also present many themes that reoccur throughout the album,  such as the pain of love and how generally miserable existence can be from time to time.

The recording of “Ledus” is slightly different than on the Black Friday compilation, sounding a bit more polished. This remains my favorite song on the album, becaues I think it has a good melody and is not too repetitive.

I also like “Vienas nakts meitene.” The song is quite different than the others on the album, starting off with a very pretty piano and guitar introduction. The track is less aggressive than the others on the album, and it is a good way for the listener to relax (if briefly) before the sonic assault of the rest of the album.

“Saplēstie stikli” has a very eerie piano introduction that is repeated within the song, though the “Whoa-oh” vocals start getting repetitive after a while.

The album ends with a remix of “Ledus” done by Alis P. Though not much different from the original, this remix brings the beat out more with a louder drum track.

Most of the other songs follow the same pattern—starting with a quiet introduction, then the guitars crash in—which is likely why I cant distinguish many of the tracks.

Though many of the songs show promise, this album was not to my taste at all. This is ideally meant for seriously devoted industrial fans (of which I am not one). The production on the album can also be quite muddy, as the crunchy guitars tend to drown everything else out. These guys have talent and have some interesting synthesizer loops,  but there is not too much of interest on this record for me. You could classify the music as hard rock, but its industrial influences make Dzelzs vilks a far different group than, for example, Līvi, so it would not be fair to compare them. Fans of industrial will likely find everything they are looking for here (synthesizer loops, crunchy guitars, angst-filled lyrics), but I must pass on this one.

Last year saw the release of the latest compact disc of Čikāgas Piecīši re-releases, which takes us into the 1980s. The album Par mani, draudziņ, nebēdā was originally issued in 1982, while Made in Latvia was released in 1988. Both are collected now on CD.

Already in the 1980s the Piecīši were in their third decade of performing and recording, and as they are getting older, their songs have begun to develop a more sentimental (not to mention patriotic) bent to them. The distinctive tounge-in-cheek humor is still there, but it is enhanced with songs that show a group that has become older and wiser through the years.

It is not clear from the liner notes what the lineup is on the Par mani record, though I can be fairly certain that at least Alberts Legzdiņš, Armands Birkens and Janīna Ankipāne are there. “Made in Latvia” lists Legzdiņš, Birkens, Uldis Streips and Lorija Vuda as singers; musicians are Birkens on guitar and R. Daughtry on guitar and bass guitar.

Patriotism is a strong theme in these two recordings. One of the highlights is the song “Par mani, draudziņ, nebēdā,” the Piecīši tribute to the Freedom Monument in Rīga. The song is sung from the monument’s perspective, telling everyone “not to worry about me”—a song of optimism where no matter how bad things go, they will turn out fine in the end. And they did, so it was a prophetic song in a way.

Also in patriotic style is the song “Made in Latvia.” It is about how, even though everything in his house is imported in some way (Japanese shaver, South Korean alarm clock, Danish table), at the very least, his beloved is 100 percent Latvian. She is so Latvian that even when the neighbors ask her to play bridge, she can’t, as she is making pīrāgi.

Though the leader of the Piecīši will always be Legzdiņš, who provides almost all of the words and music, the real star of this release is the achingly sincere tenor voice of Armands Birkens. Just hearing his voice will make the listener weepy. Even if he sang the phone book, most listeners would break into tears! This is best displayed on the song “Lai visa pasaule to redz” (a duet with Lorija Vuda), a song about two lovers, one in Rīga, one in Chicago, who want the whole world to see how great their love is, regardless of the distance between them. This song is one of my favorites on this release.

Sentiment is also heavy on the song “Mūsu mīlestība,” a song about someday meeting again, because their love will never end. This song again features the voice of Birkens.

Now that the Piecīši have grown older, and have had had children, it was inevitable that there would be songs about the trials and tribulations of getting these children to Latvian school on Saturday mornings. The similarly titled “Piektdienas vakars, sestdienas rīts” and “Sestdienas rītā” are about the occasional panic attacks on Friday nights, and the massive process of getting everyone ready Saturday morning. Reminds me of the many occasions in my family when on Friday evening I realized that I had a domraksts to get done by the next morning!

On certain songs, the Piecīši display their growing country music influence, complete with twangy guitars, baying vocals and songs where a pickup truck is a major plot device—see “Šoferdziesma”. This song is actually a bit too country for me, featuring Birkens howling in the background. I usually skip over it.

Though heavy on sentiment, the distinctive Piecīši humor is still present. The opening track is “Kurpniekzeļļi,” a song about shoemaker apprentices who spend more time staring at women’s legs than doing their job. This song’s “sequel” is “Skroderzeļļi,” this time about the great life a tailor’s apprentice enjoys, which is apparently much better than a shoemaker’s apprentice’s life.

Also in the humorous vein is “Trīs vecenītes,” which is about three old ladies sitting around and bragging about what they have managed to keep “real,” even in their old age. Legzdiņš encourages the audience to spit along with the chorus.

My main complaint about this release is the same complaint I have had about the other Piecīši re-releases: the packaging. I think I have already whined about this enough in my previous reviews, so go read those, because I don’t think I have anything different or more insightful to say this time.

Though they may have gotten older, and their songs have gotten (perhaps a bit too) heavy on the sentiment and patriotism, these Piecīši re-releases still occupy a very important space in the Latvian music world. They give voice to the many Latvians in the United States (and elsewhere outside of Latvia) who were also growing older, and at the same time facing similar problems such as raising Latvian kids and trying to keep their Latvian identity. Though they have gotten advanced in age, these records still sound fresh and relevant today. They reinforce once again the importance of the songs of the Čikāgas Piecīši, both in the 1980s as well as today.