On the evening of May 4, my friends and I stumbled out of the Latvian National Opera in a silent stupor. We had just seen six-man a capella group Cosmos give a two-hour performance showcasing the new album, Turbulence. And I, for one, felt like I had just been explained quantum theory and had actually understood every word. I therefore had little objection (or choice) when, on the following Tuesday, my friend grabbed me and shook me like a rag doll outside of the Randoms music store in Rīga saying “Gasp! Cosmos! New CD!”, and steered me through the shop doors. I had the album set on loop for the entire next week.

Though Turbulence only hit shelves April 16, the tracks have been available online for preview and purchase since the beginning of April. The group’s last compact disc was released in 2005. However, in complete contrast to its previous work, Cosmos has stepped out of the standardized a capella box and done something quite uncharacteristic: The group put together a collection of almost 100 percent original material. 

Cosmos is Jānis Šipkēvics (countertenor), Andris Sējāns (countertenor), Juris Lisenko (tenor), Jānis Ozols (baritone), Jānis Strazdiņš (bass) and Reinis Sējāns (vocals, rhythm). The group’s beginning can be traced back to 2002. Cosmos is well known for its renditions of pretty much any pop song, its Christmas album and cutesy Latvian theatre pop. Among other accomplishments and victories, the group in 2004 won the international “New Wave” competition for young singers of popular music and in 2006 represented Latvia in the Eurovision Song Contest.

The album, apparently stemming from turbulence in the individual lives of the group members, does anything but make you reach for the nearest sick bag. If you’ve been following Cosmos since Day 1 and are comfortable with it being just another great a capella group, be prepared to step out of the box yourself. The guys have put their vocal skills to a whole new use. Literally something people of all ages and walks of life can enjoy, Turbulence is a mish-mash of subgenres, all squeezed under a single roof called a capella. Don’t pack up your fan bags and run just yet. It’s worth sticking around to see what they can do.

The first track of the album, “Aptieka” (Pharmacy), is an airy, upbeat song accompanied by thematic pen scratching and bottle tinking. I can’t say that the song immediately draws you into the album, but because it moves so fast, it prevents you from becoming immediately bored. Otherwise, there is really nothing wrong with the track: It’s a whirlwind of catchy, simple sounds and manages to be simultaneously pro-love and anti-“medicated nation.”

The second track, “Maskava” (Moscow), should have been the first. I’ve heard some people say it’s “the song” of the album. It’s a picturesque, haunting composition that lulls you into an almost familiar feeling and seems more appropriately a capella than most of the other tracks on the album because it has a more “classic” feel to it. The subject matter of the song, as well as its sound, is a contrast to the previous track.

If you’ve regained a sense of Cosmos’ genre, “Parasta/neparasta diena” (An Ordinary/Unusual Day) will freak you out. This track is the epitome of experimentation. It starts out slowly and gradually builds up, kind of like a spring storm. At 3:42, the song breaks loose, working into a frenzy led by Reinis Sējāns’ beat box skills. Think the song uses synthesizers? Listen closely and you can hear the guys taking breaths between the crazy sound effects. Then the storm dies down again, reaching an almost lethargic state. I’m confused as to why the song starts out with a short spoken introduction in Latvian and then switches to English later on, but I guess turbulence is as turbulence does. I don’t dislike it, but as one of the stranger tracks, “Parasta/neparasta diena” definitely takes some getting used to.

The fourth track, “Vindo”, is one of my favorites from the album. I can always go for some good tribal or folk stuff. “Vindo” takes yet another turn from stereotypical a capella and adds one more subgenre to the album’s makeup. The song would be perfect for yet another Lion King film if, God forbid, Disney decided to make one. It starts out with a Jew’s harp (bad for your teeth, great for your music) and heads into a repetitive chant. More rhythm effects are put to good use here and the style of singing makes you want to stand on a mountaintop and shout at the top of your lungs, but in a good way. If anything, this one merits turning up the bass.

Ah, yes, Track 5. “Tu kā, es kā” (You’re Like, I’m Like), is a new a capella-born bubble-pop love anthem, so to speak. It’s the simplest song on the album and by far the people’s favorite. The extensive list comparing the narrator to his sweetheart isn’t the slightest bit annoying or boring, as there are normal comparisons—“Tu kā dāma, es kā kungs” (“You’re the lady, I’m the gentleman”)—to more unusual ones—“Tu kā auzas, es kā kombains” (“You’re the oats, I’m the combine”). Toward the end of the track, verbal dexterity is tested as the music speeds up for two increasingly faster re-caps of the list. Another nice aspect of the song is that it gives each Cosmos member a solo, the final items being sung by Strazdiņš, whose voice gets to your bones. However, for as simple as the song seems, the similes hold deeper meaning than may initially appear; there are things that physically fit together and things that conceptually fit together. Simple, deep, endearing, humorous and it rhymes? You might as well make it your new ringtone.

Although Track 6, “Trejdeviņi slepens” (Infinitely Mysterious) is my favorite song on the album, it’s worth mentioning that there is a one-and-a-half minute intro of anti-climactic vocal effects. It’s not until the effects are paired with the melody that they cause some goose bumps. In addition to really liking the beat of the song, the main reason why I adore it is that it screams old-time Latvian folk tales.

…sirmais bārdainis ar platu smaidu sejā
runāja mazliet.
Tik ogļu melns un trejdeviņi slepens
bij’ vīra stāsts.
To visu dzirdēju un laimīgs gāju projām
pavisam citāds.

Trejdeviņi is decidedly one of my favorite words. It’s so Latvian and it’s a single word that, in combination with a phrase or just by itself, elicits so many meanings or feelings of bravery, valor, pride, romance, fear, etc. It could be trejdeviņi pits of pickled beets and I’d still go nostalgic. The word choice combined with the vocal accompaniment threw me back to my childhood when I was read Latvian tales at bedtime about things like magic pike helping maidens in distress, evil stepsisters growing horns as a repercussion of being evil and how, each time you chop off the head of a multi-headed devil creature, three heads will grow back to replace it. Of course, the song contains no such gore, but the undercurrent is loaded with the past.

The next three tracks don’t take anything away from the album, but they’re not as dynamic as the rest. Track 7, “Vienreiz” (Once), has a very clean and clear sound in a laid back setting. It’s also the kind of song that would, on a normal basis, make me roll my eyes and check my watch. Sort of on the sappy side, the song is about patriotism: As a people we should collectively pay attention to and fight the good fight, but also (collectively) know when to not get involved. The only reason I am tolerant of the subject matter this time is because I first heard it in Latvia on May 4, which made it more material and closer to home. Basically, I was tricked.

The next track, “Destination: Heaven,” is another strange one and makes me kind of uncomfortable. I’m pleased with the auditory aspects of the song, but find the lyrics to be somewhat creepy. If that was the goal, bravo, they’ve done it, they’ve successfully written a creepy song. Once again, we’re given a simple subject matter with text that strikes true, accompanied by sweeping hand rhythm and vocal echo effects.

The last original track on the album, “Pasaules galiņš” (The End of the World), completely reminds me of Prāta vētra or Reigani (or are we all still in denial that they weren’t one and the same?). One reason could be the prominent presence of a drum set. This song is also catchy, complete with whistling. It is not only a huge contrast to the previous track, but to the rest of the album as well. If “Destination: Heaven” was a melancholy song about accepting or not accepting death, “Pasaules galiņš” is its “Tra-la-la, I’m the end of the world, are you ready?” opposition. I am amazed by the lung power of the Cosmos members, but am not so thrilled with the ending of the song, which sounds more like a football (soccer, for you Western Hemisphere folk) crowd cheering off-beat after one too many cheap beers.

That brings the album’s original material to an end. The final and only cover track is Muse’s “Unintended.” I’ll admit that had I not read the CD jacket, I wouldn’t have noticed the difference, save the flawless English. Some more solos are passed around and impeccable harmonies displayed. The song is the perfect ending to the album—another haunting and wholly emotional song that Cosmos absolutely makes its own.

There is no room to take a breather during Turbulence and it’s not necessary. The collection of songs offers something for everyone, proving it’s OK if an a capella group sings something you’ve never heard before. And to all the nitpickers who say there is no real continuity in the album, I ask you to take a second look at its title. Need I say more? I’d say the guys of Cosmos have set up a pretty solid defense and have done exceedingly well, all without having to borrow material from someone else.

What to say about a group that doesn’t seem to have said too much about itself? Or about a group that doesn’t seem to say too much in general? Tumors’ first album, Ideoti, runs just over 35 minutes and with it the band has made a short—but not necessarily sweet—addictive addition to the Latvian music world.

Tumors can be given many genre labels, such as “pseudo-punk rock” and “post-punk revival.”  But the members of Tumors have made a point to say that they themselves have not set those labels. They’ve also said that the band’s name doesn’t mean they endorse tumors or cancer (which is a strange point to make, however valid it may be), the quick explanation being that just as there are many kinds of tumors, so exist many different sides and facets to the group.

Tumors members Pēteris Riekstiņš (vocals, guitar), Valters Suķis (guitar), Jānis Riekstiņš (bass, back-up vocals) and Oskars Kaņeps-Kalniņš (drums, back-up vocals) started unofficially playing together in spring of 2003. Since then the band has played in many music festivals and received good reviews and a hefty fan base.

Tumors reminds me of the U.K. band Art Brut (an observation also made by a reviewer for delfi.lv). While Art Brut has more of a pop sound to it, Tumors is essentially similar. Both bands predominantly use non-singing vocals with more of a “speak-singing” vocal format. Both bands also seem to stick to topics that may be only fleeting thoughts in anyone else’s mind.

Other than that, Tumors has been compared to other Latvian groups that fall into the category of “not to be taken seriously.” At first listen Tumors really does sound like a ridiculous group. However, if you pay attention to the lyrics, you find that the band touches on several social issues and aspects. Some of the issues are culturally specific (like the name day invitation in “Bē da”), while others are universal (“Neviens”). The lyrics are incredibly normal, yet very well put together, with easy-going music as a nice addition.

The first track, “Bē da,” starts out as a general song about how the world is full of troubles, how people are plagued by troubles (bird flu, natural disasters), and how people are the ultimate plague.  Then it becomes more of a cultural issue about name days. The narrator explains how he ran into an acquaintance, who then invites him to her name day party. As a societal norm, people aren’t invited to name days, they just show up unannounced to celebrate, so as a result, the narrator’s entire day is ruined because now this person has broken the norm and expects him to show up.

The second track, “Tieši tieši,” might be my favorite song. It’s basically a song about birthday wishes, and how even though everyone wishes you the best of luck on your birthday, each person dictates whether or not he or she is lucky in life. I can’t say exactly why I like it. Maybe it’s the extreme simplicity of lines like “Eju pie Līgas uz dzimšanas dienu, bruņojies tikai ar teikumu vienu: Daudz laimes, LĪga!” (I am going to Liga’s on her birthday, armed with just one phrase: Happy birthday, Līga!).

The third track on the album, “Nauda,” may be better known as Barret Strong’s 1959 hit, “Money (That’s What I Want).” Or it may be better known as the same song covered by any number of artists. It’s just that no one’s done it in Latvian before. Even though the track is a tweaked cover, it goes along well with the overall theme of “social issues/this is reality, folks” the album seems to have.

The next two tracks, “Puisis ar pistoli” and “Kārtības sargi” take a look at a darker side of society. I welcome corrections if I’m wrong, but “Puisis ar pistoli” seems to be a kind of morbid point-of-view song about a boy who, after finding bullets for his gun, goes into town and shoots at people, not understanding why they’re afraid of the pretty bullets. “Kārtības sargi” takes a shot at policemen and how they misuse their authority.

The sixth track, “Neviens,” is not as dark as the former two, but the lyrics strike true: “No one wants to be young, No one wants to be old” and “Girls dress like women, boys act like men; Women dress like girls, men act like boys.” It’s an age-old truth that everyone can identify with.

“Putnubiedeklis,” the seventh track, is from the point of view of a scarecrow and also deals with social issues. Personally, it makes me think of the horror film Jeepers Creepers and then I don’t want to hear anymore.

The eighth and ninth tracks are a bit tongue-in-cheek. “Dogma,” like the title indicates, is about certain social rules. “Sakrāls sakars” is also like the song title suggests, a song about a minister who goes astray.

The next few tracks are again more somber, but the album finishes up with Tumors’ well-known song, “Panka nav miris” or “Panks nat ded.” The song isn’t about the punk music genre, but more an observation on the narrator’s part on how the personality or character type “punk” is still alive and well. The song is upbeat and involving, the album ends on a good note, and 35 minutes of fun have been had.

I find it interesting that such a different type of music is easily accepted. I’ll admit that the first time through the album I wasn’t sure this kind of music worked in Latvian, but Tumors does it justice.  It’s hard to explain exactly why the music is good—there’s just a general goodness about it. For people who may want to be confronted with real-life issues in a relaxed and unobtrusive manner (because who likes to be preached to?), or for people looking for something just a little bit different in the Latvian music world, Ideoti is a good place to start. It could very well be that the guys of Tumors had that in mind for themselves.

The past several months I’ve become rather giddy because there has been an upswing in the quality of the Latvian music industry. Rock group Gain Fast continues the upward trend of good times and even better music.

Gain Fast’s debut album, Viss mainījies (Everything’s Changed), came out in February of this year, but the band is no stranger to Latvia’s airwaves. The group’s first single, “Brīži” (Moments), came out in 2004, jumped to Radio SWH’s No. 1 song of the week, and dominated the No. 1 spot for more than five weeks in “Latvian Airplay Top 50.” Slowly but surely, one single after another, Gain Fast kept its place on the charts and has finally given listeners something tangible.

With their jeans, vintage T-shirts and blazers, the members of Gain Fast (Kaspars Zlidnis on vocals, Didzis Bardovskis on bass, Andžejs Grauds on drums, Gatis Vanags on guitar and Oskars Tretjuks on keyboard) not only look and like an alternative rock band should, but they sound like one, too. So I was confused when the album started with a slow, acoustic guitar intro, sounding more like something one might hear from a Līvi album or from Rodrigo y Gabriela on barbituates.

But then the real stuff kicks in. A fade from the soothing acoustics into a strong rock beat bring us to the first track, “Tavās acīs” (In Your Eyes). The track’s strong percussion immediately pulled me in, and although I was at first a bit thrown off by the vocals (they sounded too soft for the music accompanying them), they grew on me.

“Kliedz” (Shout), possibly my favorite track, is a very busy song with no lack of vocals, percussion, keyboard and islandish-sounding guitar. Its full sound moves the album right along, leaving no time or room for disappointment. The lyrics are strong as well:

Nokrītu es atkal zemu
Nav vairs spēka piecelties
Kliedz, ja gribi mani atmodināt
Kliedz, ja es tev neesmu vienaldzīgs
Jo dažkārt nevar skaidri zināt
Pie kā lai tagad pieķerās
Tā var spārnus apdedzināt
Ja nezina kam lai pieglaužas

It makes you want to shout along with Zlidnis. I’m convinced that Gain Fast understands how alternative rock is done.

The fourth track, although it’s good, is not particularly impressing. It’s just a step down from the first three songs. The album’s title track brings it back up a notch, slipping back into the great vocals and cutting rhythms.

In the next set of songs, with the exception of track eight, Gain Fast shows off its softer side.  With the exception of light-hearted punk-rocky track eight (which is very fun to sing along with), tracks six through 11 are great songs to relax to.  What surprised me were the English-language tracks Gain Fast has decided to put on its first album. “Last Goodbye” could be any other song heard on any other rock station on the radio, but “Oh Lord” grinds my gears.  It’s too country sounding and, in my opinion, takes away from the rest of the album. Luckily for Gain Fast, its first single track, “Brīži” makes it seem like “Oh Lord” never happened. Thank God.

“Brīži,” my second favorite track, gets back to the “real stuff.” The tracks calls to mind bands like Nickelback and 3 Doors Down, or any popular alt.rock band that tends to stick to more soulful songs. Gain Fast has easily captured the style and it fits well.

For the sake of others, and myself, I’m going to pretend that track 12, a “bossa nova” remix of “Tavās acīs,” doesn’t exist. The band tried something different, but it didn’t work for me.

On the flip side, I love, love, love track 13, which is nothing more than a remix of “Kliedz.” I’m obviously already partial to the song, but the remix really is a wonderful one. It gets me moving to the beat every time and sticks in my head (not unwelcomed) for hours after.

The last track is an English version of “Var jau būt.” it’s a bit different from its Latvian counterpart, but it manages to maintain the overall tone. In general, the English is all right—not perfect, but all right.

For the people who are fans of some of the other groups I’ve already mentioned, like Nickelback or 3 Doors Down, Gain Fast will be right up their alley. Viss mainījies is a great album and I can easily get into it, minus the few bumps along the road. I’d like to personally congratulate Gain Fast on a wonderful first album that’s like a gift that keeps on giving.