Looking over the handful of reviews that I have done for Latvians Online, one thing that seems to be in common is that almost all the groups are old. Most of the groups I review have been around since the 1970s or 1980s. Groups such as Līvi, Jumprava, Credo and Bumerangs have all enjoyed lengthy careers in the Latvian music world. This troubled me considerably. It made me feel much older than I am and I began to wonder if there were any new groups that would carry the flag of rock music. Or has the slow creep of mass-produced pop infected Latvia the same way it has infected most of the world?

One of the reasons that I liked the recent SuperIzlase compilation so much is that it provided a good balance of old and new and of pop and rock, and I bought it not for the all the groups that I already knew, but in search of new faces and sounds. One of the songs I liked the most from that compilation was the tune “Lietus dārzs” by a band called Tumsa. Though a melancholy song, it was very catchy and I really liked the lyrics: “Un saulē izdeg viss Tavs lietus dārzs” (Your entire garden of rain dried in the sun). I liked the song so much that I picked up the album, Katram savu Atlantīdu, and I can safely say that Tumsa is well-equipped to carry on the mantle of rock well into the future.

Actually, the full name of the group is “Mārtiņš Freimanis un grupa Tumsa.” Freimanis wrote all the lyrics and most of the music, sings and plays guitar, so I suppose he deserves top billing. The rest of the group includes Jānis Daugalis on bass guitar and vocals, Haralds Drekslers on rhythm and lead guitar, Kaspars Boroduško on drums and Einars Kokins on “skaņa” (which I guess means he’s the one doing the sound effects on the record).

Tumsa is based out of Liepāja. Katram savu Atlantīdu is the group’s second album, the first being Putni.

My favorite track on the album is the opening song, “Viņš (ir mazliet savādāks),” a great, uptempo introduction to the album. An infectious song, it practically begs for the listener to sing along on the “Hei la la” part.

Most of the album has a melancholy feel, but thankfully it never descends into the whiny, mopey, “woe is me” style that is in a lot of music today. “Klauns” is a sad song that is criticial of the phoniness that people adopt sometimes: “Tu esi tikai klauns, tavs mūžs deg cauri smiekliem, tu neesi nekas daudz” (You are only a clown, your future burns through laughter, you are not much of anything).

Other favorite songs on the album are “Vēlreiz, nekad vairs” and “Katram sava Atlantīda,” both catchy songs that encourage me to hit the “back” button on my CD player—and both songs I think would go over well live in concert.

The album hits a few rough spots in the home stretch. That’s where Freimanis exercises his English language ability, and the results are about what you would expect. A few awkward lyrics here, a few unusually pronounced words there, but otherwise solid efforts. You would think by now MICREC would have hired an English language consultant (I’ll do it!) to polish up stuff like this. But no matter, as writing songs in English is something I would still encourage these guys to do. It can only get better from here. However, with four songs in a row in English (“Lucky,” “I’m in Love,” “Someone” and “Freak”) it might be one or two too many.

Overall, a great album, full of memorable hooks and melodies, and an album I’d recommend to anyone looking for something new in the Latvian music world. Tumsa is currently in the studio working on their third record, so I expect big things from these guys in the future.

The compilation album has long been a part of Latvian music history. In earlier years, very few groups were able to record full-length albums. In fact, unless you had the clout (and not to mention the Soviet sympathy) of someone like Raimonds Pauls, putting out an entire album was next to impossible. However, many compilation records were being released during Soviet times, the most well known being the long running Mikrofons yearly release. These would allow many bands that would normally not be able to get their music heard on a record to do just that, even if only one song.

Those days have passed, and now most any band that has a bit of money, a few songs and maybe a moderate amount of talent can release an album—visit your local šlāgermūzikas section to see this in action. So where does this leave the compilations? As record executives in the United States have recently realized, and as their counterparts in Western Europe have long since known, a compilation can be a good marketing tool. Put together a bunch of songs from many different artists on one album and maybe people will buy it for the selection… and then continue to buy albums of specific artists they like.

This idea is not lost on Latvian record executives either. SuperIzlase, released late last year, contains recent hits from the entire spectrum of Latvian artists from three of the major labels—UPE, Platforma and Mikrofona ieraksti. The executives realize that by working together they can promote their own artists with little cost but ideally with high return. Because compact discs in Latvia are expensive, few consumers will throw down their hard-earned money on a CD from which they haven’t heard any songs.

Reviewing such compilations is a difficult task, however, mainly due to the incredibly varied nature of the songs contained on one. Though I like to think of myself as a fairly open-minded music listener, there are certain styles of music that are simply not for me. So instead of critiquing the music contained on this record, I will do my best to describe what I hear and you can make your own informed decision about what you might like.

Many of the songs on this record I had known before even purchasing this record, probably due to the fact that in marketing terms, I fall into the category of “loyal rock fan.” In other words, if I have been a fan of a rock band for a while, and they release a new record, I am likely to purchase it, sound unheard, simply because I am loyal. Established rock groups are well represented on this record, with groups like Līvi (“Mana vienīgā ziņģe”), Prāta Vētra (”Īssavienojums,”  the Latvian version of their Eurovision hit “My Star,” but with different lyrics), Credo (“Dzīvē gadās arī tā”), Labvelīgais tips (“Es nav redzējis Tevi jau sen”), Bet Bet (“Es vaicāju mātei”) and Ainars Mielavs (“Labradors”). Igo also checks in with an uncharacteristically (at least compared to his newer material) hard rocking song, “Cerību laiks”.

Though already well-schooled in the subject of Latvian rock, I did learn a few things from this record, as there were groups that I was unfamiliar with, but enjoyed their songs. These included Tumsa (“Lietus dārzs”), Autobuss debesīs (“Sitiet bungas, mani mīļie”) and The Hobos (“Midnight Lover”). All three of these groups are now on my shopping list for the next time I return to Latvia.

But of course, it is not only rock. Dance and pop make up a bulk of this record as well. The album starts off with the A-Eiropa (or Austrum Eiropa) dance hit “Tuvumā, tālumā.” The group Braithouse contribute their dance song, “So Much Fun,” while Lilita Ozoliņa and Viesturs Dūle offer “Tu mans mīļais čipendeils.”

If “diva pop” (such Mariah Carey or Whitney Houston) is your bag, then you will most likely like Linda Leen and her song “Let’s Go Insane.” She is an amazing singer and has learned how to sing in English remarkably well. Dāmu pops also have a new version of their older song, “Varbūt rīt,” on this record, complete with new dancable beat and thumping bass line. However, I prefer the original version on the Mikrofons 1990 rokaptauja.

“Kiddie” or “bubblegum” pop (such Backstreet Boys or Britney Spears) is also alive and well in Latvia, evidenced by the Gunārs Kalniņš and Kristena duet “Baltā dziesma.” This song also proves the existence of some requirement that every compilation ever released in Latvia has to have a Raimonds Pauls song on it (which is not necessarily a bad thing sometimes).

Songs in a more humorous vein also are here: from Savādi gan there’s “Dzīve ir skaista,” while Reigani, Prata Vētra’s Estonian alter egos, have their song “Tere, tere traktors” (which also includes the lyric, “Bulle, bulle, buldozers”).

The only complaint I have about this release is that we are never told what album these songs can be found on. Knowing that would make shopping for further releases from these artists slightly easier.

Of the very many compilations released in Latvia throughout the years, I would count this as one of the better ones. The range and diversity of the artists makes this a good investment for anyone, even if you don’t know a thing about what music is popular in Latvia these days or are a dyed-in-the-wool, long-time music fan. Thankfully, the music companies got together for this compilation and even promise there will be another SuperIzlase in 2001. If it is as good as this one, then we have something to really look forward to.

Live albums are an unusal entity in the rock world. They are intended mainly for longtime fans, who are looking to have the experience of seeing a band in concert contained in a recording. But Līvi’s latest, Spoku koks, is not just any live album. It is an acoustic live album by a veteran hard rock band.

The album is a re-release, but it is the first time this concert is available on CD. It is a recording of concert Līvi performed Dec. 16, 1994, in the Latvian Radio 1 studio in Rīga.

So can a veteran hard rock band still give a good concert, even if you replace their electric guitars with acoustic ones? If they are Līvi, the answer is a resounding yes.

As the liner notes indicate, this recording was meant to be a Christmas present for all the longtime Līvi fans, and what a unique present it is. Not only is the concert an intimate, acoustic show, but the song selection is interesting as well. Līvi chose to not play any of their big hits, but instead performed rarities and other songs that you would not normally hear them play.

In fact, of the 15 live tracks on this album, I had only heard six of these songs before—and to my knowledge, I have most every album Līvi have released, so there is quite a bit here that would be of interest to any Līvi fan.

The band members on this record are today’s members (Ainars Virga and Tomass Kleins on guitars, Jānis Grodums on bass guitar and Dainis Virga on drums) with the addition of since-departed vocalist Aivars Brīze.

One of the songs that I had heard before was not one orginally done by Līvi. They do a version of the old Pērkons song “Lakstugailis” (which can be found on Pērkons’ Dziesmu izlase #1 album) but with their own twists on the song. Līvi also have good interaction with the audience, as is heard here in the audience participation on the “Un tapēc rīt, vai aizparīt” part of the song.

Chronologically, I think this live album fits in right before their 1996 K.M.K.V.P. album, as Spoku koks contains live versions of two of the songs—“Meitene” and “Var jau būt…”—that would appear on this album. What is odd, though, is that one of the songs “Guntis ir muļķis patiešām” (which gets the award for funniest song title) is introduced as a new song, but is partly credited to Ēriks Ķiģelis (the former band leader who had passed away many years before) so I’m not sure how that is possible.

Also, being a Christmas concert, there are a couple Christmas songs as well. The only real “hit” on the record is “Eglīte.” That song is introduced with a bit of history: When the song was originally recorded in Soviet times, Līvi were not allowed to use the word “Ziemassvētki,” so they had to replace it with “Jaunais gads.” Now that that era has thankfully passed, they now sing “Ziemassvētki klāt.”

The other Christmas song here is simply called “Ziemassvētku dziesma.” It is a very mellow, yet catchy celebration of the season.

The album concludes with a great acoustic version of the song “Kad saule riet,” originally found on their self-titled 1988 album. Although this version is acoustic, it loses none of the power that the original “electric” version had.

There are two common problems that live albums in general have: either they sound too polished (due to post-concert studio fiddling with the songs, usually removing or re-recording of bad notes or vocals) or they don’t sound live at all (the live experience has two parts, the band playing and the audience reacting). I’m happy to say that this album has neither of these problems. Though there was inevitable studio tinkering with the show, it’s not much. According to the liner notes, the original release of this show was available the day after the concert, which is not enough time to redub vocals or guitar parts. In a few spots the vocals are a bit off or somebody plays a wrong note, but that is part of the live experience! Also, the audience is very much present on this recording. Though small, it is noisy and actively participates in many of the songs.

In addition to the live recording, two “bonus” tracks have been added to the CD: studio recordings of “Lakstugailis” and “Līviskā ziņģe.” Though it is nice to hear studio versions of these songs, they are not much different than the live versions. On some parts of “Lakstugailis,” Brīze sings as though he was in a great deal of pain—hope he’s feeling better!

On an unrelated note, this is one of the new releases from MICREC that has a reduced price tag. I purchased this record in Latvia for LVL 6 (a bargain compared to the price of other new CDs, often as much as LVL 10 or 11).

For longtime Līvi fans, this record will be a treat to listen to for all the rarities contained on it as well as for the acoustic performance. Casual or new Līvi fans will like this as well, as you don’t need to know much about Līvi to enjoy this release. The album also begins the celebration of Līvi’s 25th anniverary as a band. According to the MICREC Web site, 2001 will see the re-release of their older records as well. I think Spoku koks is a great way to kick off that celebration.