A promotional photo of the band Higinsoni shows two masked Santas, one military man and a wig-wearing “I ‘heart’ NY” T-shirt-sporting mystery man. Whatever first impressions this may suggest, it turns out the band’s debut compact disc Uzmet garu! is just another modern take on traditional Latvian folk songs. It actually doesn’t get more normal than this.

Higinsoni (Zoltāns, E Minor, Blokis and Tēvocis) are a self-proclaimed four-man ethno-punk-metal band from Latvia—or Sweden. The album insert (as well as Web site) says Higinsoni, the grandsons of Latvian emigrants, arrived in Rīga toward the end of 2005 and, after a few month’s hardships and a side job of stealing light bulbs only to resell them at the market, wound up in the music business. One can guess the information is largely fictional—the band’s Web site updates happenings and events that seem too outlandish to be true—but the “information” is entertaining enough. Unfortunately, their music doesn’t match the animation of their write-up.

The album started out well enough, with a peppy ska-goes-death-metal rendition of “Mīlu mazo Lulu.” This song will doubtless bring up memories for people other than myself, as “Lulu” was a song often sung at the weekly Gaŗezers vasaras vidusskola campfires in Michigan. The opening is played by an accordion, which sets up that intimate campfire feel. Then the ska-punk beats kick in, followed by some heavy metal guitar and screaming, gravely vocals. For a first track it’s not spectacular, but so far it had my attention, which is what counts.

The album’s second track, “Kur gaismiņa,” flat out did not impress me. Unlike “Mīlu mazo Lulu,” this is a traditional folk song.  However, the track was a disappointment. It sounds like the band is trying too hard to achieve…whatever it is the band is trying to achieve.

That being said, the beginning of the third track, “Div’ dūjiņas,” made me very nervous. It’s happened before. Bands will lull you into a false sense of “this CD is good, we promise!” with track one, and then it’s all the same the rest of the way through. “Div’ dūjiņas” redeems itself quickly and becomes a less depressing version of the popular folk song. The track is overall well executed and the instrumental break is even catchy.

Track four keeps up appearances with “Līgo.” A bit of a tribal-sounding intro and nicely harmonized vocals balance out the heavy metal break in the middle of the song. “Līgo” shows Higinsoni at its highest point in the album. The song is not only the best track on the album, but it is the most originally done out of all of the covers. It even has a hint of Korn toward the end, accompanied by a very James Bondesque bass guitar line.

From this track on most of the songs are a monotony of synthesizer, heavy guitar and vocals.  It’s one of those albums that starts to drone on after a while. The attention span of a person can last only so long, and once the rhythm and sound patterns are exhausted, it’s over. 

Two more tracks should be noted: “Tur es biju tur man tika” and “Mērkaķītis.”

“Tur es biju tur man tika” is worth mentioning because it strikes me as one of those songs that are heard anywhere Latvians and beer can be found. The track starts off calmly and sweetly enough, then rails into the good old “Šur tur, it nekur, krodziņā zem galda!” Another point of interest in the song is toward the end, where a musical break closely resembling George Michael’s “Faith” is heard. If anything else, Higinsoni isn’t oblivious to catching the attention of listeners familiar with classic riffs.

“Mērkaķītis” is another one of those songs sung at Latvian children’s camps. What surprised me is that Higinsoni decided to go with the “clean” version of the song:

Manu mazo mērkaķīti, ū-ū-ū,
nepaliec par vientulīti, tu tu tu,
noglaudīšu tavu galvu
sasukāšu tavu spalvu
došu tevīm mazu bučiņu.

If you don’t know the “unclean” version, then you probably didn’t go to a Latvian kids camp.

I can think of a handful of my friends who would get a kick out of this album for a party scene, but I don’t think that it would make a reoccurring appearance. It doesn’t offer anything that permanently catches one’s attention, that stays on the mind days or even hours after listening to it. I would hope that if the band puts out another album, Higinsoni will explore its abilities and try to shake things up a bit more. The band comes across as a highly creative group of guys, and it would be nice to see that creativity applied to the music.

A compact disc cover with four gun-toting Latvians, a shot-up beer can and an album title that has nothing to do with the anything pictured introduces us to a seemingly new R.A.P. The band has its new album Maize, new manager Aivis Brūders, and a new image that has rather (drastically) changed from that of 2003. The nice guys have turned into bandits. It all looks so rugged, so different, so promising.  Unfortunately, it’s same-old-same-old on this frontier.

R.A.P. is a four-member band from Kuldīga. They are singer Artis Dvarionas, bassist Māsters (Artis Rozītis), guitarist Štro (Aleksandrs Stro) and drummer Gatis L. (Gatis Lagzdenieks).  Maize, released in October, is the group’s third album as R.A.P., but it’s the fourth album overall.

Because the album is not the group’s first, my expectations were high. However, the beginning of the album is weak, which is ironic considering the title of the first track—“Spēka būs gana” (Strength Enough). 

It wasn‘t until the fourth track, “Viss jau saplānots” (Everything is Planned), that I could say I was really drawn into the album. First of all, the opening of the song doesn’t feature the almost monotonous, twangy, lead guitar bits characteristic of the first three tracks. Second, the vocals are balanced well with the easygoing nature of the melody and the simple niceness of the bass. This track is worthy of being held way above the “background music” category. It is also no surprise that “Viss jau saplānots” was one of the singles featured on the radio.

The next two tracks of the album aren’t particularly noteworthy, but the melodies are good (drum effects, circus-like tunes, short acoustic guitar solos), and in a hard rock style like it should be. Then, after Track Six, the easy times are over. 

It should be pointed out that the album is set up in an interesting way. The songs in Latvian have been placed in the first part of the album, and the songs in English make up the rest of it.  For me, the arrangement works out, because I know when to stop the CD.

The seventh track, “Never Felt that Before,” has the basics, but the English is still questionable.  spent most of the second part of the disc trying to decipher the lyrics, and the effects of the music was almost missed. Incomplete thoughts coupled with shoddy spelling in the printed lyrics of the disc jacket made me really doubt the quality of what I was listening to.  “Plain” instead of “plane,” “circulationing” instead of “circulating” (kudos to Dvarionas, though, who at least sang the right word)… I hate to say it, but I can’t listen to the English lyrics on the album without grinding my teeth, and the typos in the booklet are unprofessional. 

Track Nine, “A Day Before Nothing” (also one of the radio singles) sets itself slightly apart from the other seven tracks sung in English. It sounds almost like a hyper version of something from The Doors. It may have to do with the combination of good music, balanced vocals, and cryptic lyrics:

The fire is on and the neighbours are sleeping
the heaven fell down when I saw a baby weepin‘
In the white snow – hot human show
No need to return from where you go…

Track 10 offers a contrast between the main melody and refrain that reminds me of what bands like 311 have done—a kind of island pop and alternative rock sound. The rest of the album is musically entertaining, but the faltering English lyrics ruin the moment.

As with R.A.P.‘s previous album, 2,  I got used to Maize after listening to it several times, though it quickly became an album that worked well just as background noise. The music is, as if I can’t repeat it enough times, stellar, but there’s still something missing. In an October interview in the newspaper Kurzemnieks, members of the band explained their music-making process, and a little light was shed. The group begins by creating the music and the melodies. They have jam sessions and work through what they like and don’t like. Only afterwards do they “look for a text.”

I may have read the interview wrong or the band members might not have had a lot of time to answer the questions, but what I understand from what was said is that R.A.P. puts most of the effort into the musical aspect of their albums, treating lyrics as more of a sidedish. And it shows, it really does. 

I can’t say I don’t like Maize. There are no problems with R.A.P’s music (it hasn’t really changed in three years, but then again, it wasn’t bad to begin with, so I’m not complaining), but the lyrics are either confusing, pointless, or, in some cases, completely lost under the music. Almost every single track lacks balance between vocals and melody. The lyrics could be replaced with “la la la” and the songs would sound just as good. Not only do I stand by my opinion of three years ago that the best of R.A.P. lies within the Latvian tracks, but the band’s efforts should concentrate a bit more on the content of the lyrics. There is space for improvement, and I look forward to the next album in the event it has been filled.

Although the booklet accompanying Crowd’s debut compact disc, Jūtu evolūcija, may indicate a playful and colorful time, it’s anything but. “Jūtu evolūcija,” which literally means an evolution of emotions, here sounds more like a plateau of feelings so depressing and frustrating, that at times listening to the album became numbing.

The band includes Jana Čakste on vocals, Kaspars Čakste on guitar, Edgars Bindulis on guitar, Māris Vaivods on bass and Zigmārs Kics on drums. Its beginning can be traced to 1998 as the band Ugly Son, but it wasn’t until the end of 1999 that the band name was officially changed to Crowd. With the addition of Jana in 2000, Crowd, as it stood at the time the recording was released early this year, was completed.

The first time I heard the album I was reminded of the group Iedomu spārni, which seemed to pave the Latvian pathway to Evanescence-like music. But whereas the Iedomu spārni album Dienasgrāmata had songs with positive outlooks, Jūtu evolūcija brings the “hardcore” genre to a new level.

The album’s first track, and one of my favorites, “Rīts,” starts off right away with a nice, fast-paced guitar and drum combination. Even though I couldn’t hear the lyrics clearly at first, I have to agree with Radio NABA listeners who earlier this year helped place “Rīts” in the station’s Top 25. The track is colorful and has a full sound to it, and it’s made to be liked. (The lyrics can be found at www.dziesmas.com, but unfortunately not on the group’s official Web site.)

The second track, “Atdošanās,” is noticeable because of its funk undertone. At first it feels laid back with the funk-jazz feel, but the guitar pushes forward and suddenly the music breaks out. The track has a nice guitar line and is very rough.

Unfortunately, the third track, “Burned Hearts,” shoves the album back several steps. The track shows to me a classic example of Latvian-band-trying-to-go-English syndrome: a song by a band with interesting, haunting melodies and vocals, but with lyrics that, once sung in a language other than the group’s own, doesn’t cut it. Fortunately, the next track, “Dziesma,” picks the album back up. However, the album also moves into the realm of more depression, depression, depression!

The rest of the album’s English tracks move well and generally make more sense, especially the 10th track, “Today,” which blew me away with its grammatical goodness.

But “Freak,” the ninth track, is my least favorite. The song has the harshest guitar bits in the entire album. The song is apparently about a depressing nubbin of a person who hates themself as much as they hate the people who brought them into the world.

The final track, the cover title “Jūtu evolūcija,” is another of the band’s more popular radio singles, and also my second of two favorites from the album. The vocals are mild a present a simple message: “I’ll forgive you if you apologize, because I love you, idiot.” Subtlety is the song’s best aspect.

Would I sway to Crowd’s sounds? Yes. Would I head bang to it? No. Crowd is definitely an acquired taste, and may take listeners some getting used to, especially if they haven’t been exposed to much Latvian hardcore. Eventually, for me, after setting the disc on loop, the music becomes more of a backgroundish, mellow sound, depression and all.