In my library of recordings, I have a substantial classical music collection. Composers such as Beethoven, Chopin, Bizet, Rachmaninov and Gershwin are found there, representing diverse nations such as Germany, Poland, France, Russia and the United States. However, up until this year, if you asked me to show you my Latvian classical compact discs, I would have been unable to do so. As for why there were no Latvian classical artists, there were a few reasons. I would plead ignorance, because Latvian classical music almost never gets played in the United States and recordings were also fairly scarce. And even though I knew of the existence of Latvian classical music, it never occurred to me to pursue learning about it, because I knew absolutely nothing about the composers.

This all changed over the course of the past year. Through a very strange set of coincidences, I was able to participate in the Latvian music camp in Ogre this summer. At the camp, I was exposed to a world of music that I never knew existed. Every night there was a concert, and many of the works were Latvian compositions. Such previously unfamiliar names such as Ivanovs, Vasks, Vītols and Einfelde became known to me.

Latvian Millennium Classics is a compilation of 20th century classical pieces by many different Latvian composers, covering all types of styles and genres, with both instrumental and choral works. It is meant to be an introduction to the many great works that were composed in Latvia over that time, and is as good as any introduction to Latvian classical music and performers.

National pride is a theme that is found in many a composer’s music and Alfrēds Kalniņš is no exception. One of my favorite works on the CD, "Mana dzimtene" (My Homeland), reflects that in a symphonic style that reminded me of composers such as Dvorak and Smetana.

The Latvian celebration of Midsummer, Jāni, also is featured in the track from Emīlis Melngailis, "Jāņuvakars" (Midsummer Eve). This is one of the choral pieces on the CD, and probably the one I like the most. The lyrics are all taken from traditional Jāņi songs—it seems like every line comes from a different song. But they all come together to form a very beautiful choral arrangement.

The liner notes (written by Inese Lūsiņa) mention that the "Melanholiskais valsis" (Melancholy Waltz) by Emīls Dārziņš is the most popular symphonic piece of all time in Latvia, and it easy to see why, as it is a simple waltz full of emotion and beauty.

"Bakarola" (Bacarole) by Andrejs Jurjāns, is another memorable symphonic piece, especially for the gorgeous french horn solo by Arvīds Klišāns.

The more modern selections on the CD start with Juris Karlsons’ "Neslēgtais gredzens" (The Open Ring) with lyrics by Rainis. This is another choir piece, performed by the famous Ave Sol chamber choir. However, modern choir music is not something I’ve learned to appreciate yet. The song starts out normally, but soon becomes discordant. Eventually the singing stops and is replaced briefly by chattering of some kind. Interesting, but not really my cup of tea.

Pēteris Vasks, probably the most famous Latvian composer outside of Latvia, gets represented by two works in this collection. Even though he gets two, they are two completely different compositions. The first is "Ainava ar putniem" (Landscape With Birds), a solo flute piece performed by Dita Krenberga. Through the flute, Vasks is able to paint a detailed picture of a field of birds, which I could imagine when I closed my eyes. And at the end, all the birds fly away!

The second piece is the "Cantabile per archi," described in the liner notes as a work of "concentrated spiritual power." This somber string work also expresses great sadness, a common theme throughout many of Vasks’ works.

The "Maija balāde" (May Ballad) by Maija Einfelde, with lyrics by Aspazija, is another modern choral piece, and again, though unique and innovative, is not something I could find myself listening to for an extended amount of time. As the liner notes indicate, Einfelde "works with human voice in the most creative way," something that is clear when listening to this piece.

The organ work "Lauks" (Field) by Imants Zemzaris is best described in the notes as a "meditative" work. I guess it can also be called minimalistic, since it is pretty much the same theme repeated over and over again the entire work. Meditative is an appropriate description, because is does seem that listening to this is like meditation—repeating a mantra over and over again until enlightenment is achieved. Though deceptively simple, listening to this put me into a trance-like state.

The final work on the CD is the fifth and sixth part to the "Kāzu dziesmas" (Wedding Songs) by Romualds Kalsons, a fitting celebratory end to this compilation. This piece reminded me a bit of Prokofiev, but with a unique Latvian flavor to it.

For those who were like me and knew nothing about Latvian classical music, this CD is a great introduction to it. Not only for the composers, but for the performers as well, including conductors such as Leonids Vigners and Vaisily Sinaisky, the Latvian National Symphonic Orchestra, and organist Tālivaldis Deksnis (who is also a fascinating lecturer on the topic of organs), among many others.

I only have very minor complaints about this recording. The liner notes are too brief, with barely a sentence about each composition. Very little history is given, and I would have appreciated knowing when each work was composed, and a bit more biographical information about some of the composers. Also, conspicuous by their absence are Latvian composers Imants Kalniņš and Jānis Ivanovs (probably my favorite Latvian composer). But because this is meant to be an introduction to Latvian classical music, it would have been unrealistic that they could have covered the entire spectrum of classical music in Latvia.

Whether you are a devoted classical music listener, a casual listener, or even if you only know the first few notes in Beethoven’s "Fifth Symphony," Latvian Millennium Classics is a worthy addition to any collection, and will hopefully introduce many people to the world of Latvian classical music.

Šlāger music is quite the phenomenon in Latvia. I’m always amazed how in some of the music stores there are racks and racks of compact discs and tapes that represent this music. And every time I go there, it seems that there is more and more of it—new šlāgeraptaujas (šlāger compilations) seem to come out every month. Quite impressive for a style of music that gets sneered at by snobbier music fans, and gets derided in a variety of ways, like “It all sounds the same,” “That’s music only my grandmother would listen to,” etc.

Personally, I don’t mind the stuff. It is simple, but catchy, and most of the songs are the type you can start singing along before the song is even done.

But of course, the issue is that there is so much šlāger, so little time. So whom to listen to? There are so many groups (and I will admit that many of them do sound the same in the end) that it is hard to figure out which recordings in particular to purchase, and which of the many, many šlāger groups are worth listening to.

A group whose songs I often heard over the years is Zeļļi (roughly translated to “chaps” or “fellows”). The band is made up of Raitis Treijs (voice), Jānis Vējiņš (keyboards), Ivars Birkāns (on saxaphone, one of the unique sounds in Zeļļi), and Pēteris Vējiņš (guitar and voice). Though similar to many other šlāger groups, they had some truly memorable songs. Judging from the 1995 release Mikrofona 20 labākās dziesmas, Zeļļi had a number of hits. These include “Krustceles,” a hit in 1993. Another hit was “Vel tu nāc,” a song from 1994. My favorite song by them is “Vedej, pasteidzies”, which I had originally heard on the 1991 album Ratiņa aptauja, also put out by MICREC.

So with Dziesmas Tev un man, I was expecting an album full of Zeļļi classics.

Much to my surprise, I was disappointed by what I heard.

As with the Labvēlīgais tips and Bumerangs best-of collections, these recordings are new recordings of old songs. I can understand the reasoning for re-recording old versions of songs, maybe to record them better (because technology has improved over the years) or maybe because the members of the band have become better musicians. The Tips and Bumerangs collections are still fully in the spirit of the originals, and the changes aren’t too startling for someone who has heard the old versions of the songs. However, in Zeļļi’s case, the new songs are sometimes markedly different than what I remembered.

An example of that is “Vedej, pasteidzies,” a song about a guy who is rushing to get home to his beloved, but arrives just in time to see her get married to someone else. The version on the Ratiņa record was a simple yet catchy folk song. The version on the new CD has been given a dance beat, with an over-loud drum track. I think this totally ruined the mood of the song. Somehow I don’t see this getting played in a dance club anyway!

The new version of “Krustceles” is not much different than the version I had heard on the 20 labākās dziesmas album. The original was a slower, more relaxed song about relationships (including the great line “Ne jau visi atkusi nes pavasari, ne jau katra aizraušanās mīlu līdzi nes”—Not every thaw brings spring, not every diversion brings love). The major, upsetting difference is that the original had a great saxaphone solo to close out the song, but this re-recording completely omits that. Just when I thought the saxaphone would start, the song ends! I was most saddened by its absence.

But there are plenty of worthwhile moments on the album, even though it seems that every song was designed to be “danceable.” “Rudzupukes,” “Lilijas” and “Skaudība” are all examples of what šlāger is all about: songs that upon first listen make you think you’ve known them your entire life. Also, the new version of “Vel tu nāc” is one of the few songs on here that is better than the original.

There’s a Latvian version of the song “Blowing in the Wind” called “Atbildi zina tikai vējš.” It’s the same as the English version. However, they don’t even credit Bob Dylan as the writer of the song (for shame!).

Unfortunately, the second half of the album falls into the same šlāger music trap: It all begins to sound the same. The second half mostly has slow ballads that seem to fade into each other without any way to distinguish between all of them. Even after repeated listenings, I can’t immediately distinguish some of the songs.

I really, really did want to like this record, as I think Zeļļi are a very talented band with a number of great songs, but this album is not the best representation for them. I’d suggest seeking out the 20 Labākās dziesmas album (which, to my knowledge, is long out of print) or some early šlāgeraptaujas with the original versions of these songs.

And again, no lyrics! I am completely aware that sometimes it is simply an issue of cost that the lyrics are not attached. But if this is your first CD release, and you want your fans to really appreciate your words and your songs, please attach the lyrics for the songs.

Ardent šlāger fans will probably love this record, as it is completely predictable and contains no shocks or surprises, which is to be expected from šlāger music and not entirely a bad thing at all. However, anyone who expects to be even slightly challenged by the music they listen to will be disappointed. Though Zeļļi are a cut above the “average” šlāger band, this album does not show that as well as it could have.

One of the hardest things to define in the Latvian music world is šlāgermūzika. It sounds as if it is rooted in Latvian folk music, but with traces of American country and a few parts pop—and with an accordion thrown in for good measure. The best I can say is that you will know it when you hear it. And hear it I do on the Bumerangs "best of" compilation called Agrāk un tagad, which includes songs from all of its 14 years together as a band.

The group is made up of Aivars Trēziņš on voice and accordion, Vents Krauklis on voice and clarinet, Juris Skrajāns on voice and guitar, and Edmunds Mednis on voice, drums and synthesizers. Mednis also wrote a few of the band’s songs as well. Bumerangs was also one of the hardest-working bands in Latvia (the liner notes mention that in 1988 they played 332 concerts in one year). I even saw it play one time in the early 1990s in Limbaži. However, the band is currently on extended hiatus, as Mednis has moved to the United States.

This album is packed. The recording is almost 80 minutes long. Also, as seems to be the trendy thing to do these days, these songs are not the originals, but re-recorded versions of the band’s hits (as Labvelīgais tips and Zeļļi have done on their "best of" collections as well). Although I’m not a fan of bands rerecording their songs (especially if I’ve gotten attached to the originals), these songs are not much different than the originals.

A novel thing that Bumerangs does is to take a standard Latvian folk song, change the melody around and sometimes add additional words. The result is a completely different song. Sometimes this works very well, sometimes the results are… a little unusual. One of my favorite songs on the album is the Bumerangs version of the Latvian folk song "Līgo laiva uz udena." The band’s version is more uptempo than the more somber song that I remember. The lyrics of the song itself are very sad, telling the story of a poor guy who says that if he doesn’t marry a particular ploughman’s daughter, he will die of sorrow. He goes on to give detailed instructions about where and how he is to be buried.

Another folk song that gets the Bumerangs treatment is the classic, "Pūt, vējiņi!" This time, except for a few verses of the original, the song would be completely unrecognizable as the band adds a lot of new words to the song and offers a much more uptempo version. Also, in a move that apparently caused some controversy at a Gaŗezers concert a while back, during the verses the band adds the Russian words "Ochen horosho!" (Very good!). I guess some of the old-school Latvians didn’t like their folk songs being tainted with Russian words. Though the original version of "Pūt, vējiņi!" is one of my favorite Latvian folk songs, I do actually like this version, too.

Bumerangs also does a song called "Klētiņa" that listeners might know as "Mīļā mazā Lulu, sapnoju par tevi vien." This is a song I used to sing in summer camp and one I originally heard on the Trīs no Pārdaugavas debut record. In an attempt to show the band’s linguistic talent, the entire song is sung in Italian! The novelty of this wears off in a hurry, as I would have preferred to hear the song in its original Latvian.

Not all of Bumerangs’ songs are joyful and happy. In fact, its version of the soldiers’ song "Baltā roze" is one of the saddest I have ever heard. The song is about a soldier leaving his loved one. It begins with the lyrics "Baltā roze nozied dārza malā / Velti lūpas tavu vārdu sauc" (A white rose wilts at the edge of the garden / In vain my lips call your name) and gets more depressing from there. It is a very beautiful song, and will move even the most hard-hearted of listeners.

Bumerangs even has some songs that are more intended for "mature" audiences. Take a listen to its version of "Meitas mani aicināja," another Latvian folk song, complete with anatomical references and double entendres.

Another favorite on the record is the band’s version of the Raimonds Pauls ditty "Varbūt," a song that the aforementioned Trīs no Pārdaugavas did on its Mīkstas mēbeles record many years ago. The vocals have a bit of a lounge feel to them (given that it is a Pauls song, that should not surprise me). Also listen to "Vilciens Rīga-Valka," a sad song about yet another poor guy who meets a girl on a train and makes plans to see her later… and wouldn’t you know, she doesn’t show up. (This is another song that Trīs no Pārdaugavs did on its No tālām robežām record.)

Other oddities on the record include "Pretī (Tavs logs pretī manējam)," in which Bumerangs attempts a reggae-influenced song. There is also "Pūš sejā," a rare, politically themed song. Also, the brief song "Bez mājas tā lieta neiet" sounds more like a commercial jingle for the mortgage department of Unibanka (one of the sponsors of the album).

A recurring complaint I have in my reviews is "Please include the lyrics!" Besides making my job easier, it also helps the listener develop a greater appreciation for the band and its songs, especially if your band has not released any compact discs prior to this one (and, as it appears, will not be releasing any more CDs in the future).

All in all, this is a good record and a good retrospective on a band that was at the forefront of šlāgermūzika throughout its extended career. If you can’t stand šlāger, this album won’t exactly make a believer out of you. If you don’t mind listening to šlāger, then you will appreciate this record, as Bumerangs has perfected its craft.