We lovers of traditional folk music, whether it’s Latvian, Bulgarian or Moroccan, often are constrained to listen to it with earphones or when we’re alone in the house or car. Otherwise, we have to deal with comments such as “Do you really have to listen to that right now? Can’t you put something else on? What is that noise, Mama? Why are they howling?”

That’s why I am happy to report that the newest compact disc from the men’s Latvian folklore group Vilki, Mans bērīt’s kumeliņš (My Dearest Bay Horse), should elicit no such comments from non-folk enthusiasts. I played the disc through at least three times with my kids in close vicinity and they didn’t complain in the least.

One reason could be that an all-male folk ensemble, which by nature stays in the lower tonal registers, is simply more pleasurable to listen to for an extended period of time, according to some. This would be as opposed to higher-pitched female voices, which after a while can seem grating and irritating, especially if the repertoire consists of many “calling” songs meant to be sung outdoors. (I myself love to sing such songs, but must admit that listening to recordings of them for more than half an hour becomes a tad tiring.)

I can say with conviction, however, that the songs on this disc are quite melodic, have an easy, rhythmic quality (probably due to the fact that they were originally sung while riding—whether off to war, in search of brides or working the fields). They are accompanied by unobtrusive and pleasant instrumental arrangements. None of the Vilki is a professional musicians, yet their 15-year history and practically unchanging membership has made for a very tight-sounding group with nary a technical slip.

It must be mentioned that the members of Vilki are not only singers and musicians. They are foremost a group of “traditional way-of-life devotees.” Their folk costumes are archaeological reconstructions handmade either by themselves or their wives. The same goes for their weapons, with which they hold mock battles and even go hunting. The Vilki and their families also celebrate traditional holidays and life events, such as weddings and baptisms, in the way of their ancestors as closely as can be reconstructed from written and oral histories.

The ancient tribes of Latvia depended heavily on their horses, which can be deduced from grave-site excavations rich with gear relating to horses, as well as the great number of folk songs praising the virtues of the horse. I recall hearing in a lecture given by the folklorist Vaira Vīķe-Freiberga (in her pre-presidential days) that in the Latvian folk song archives there are about 10 times more “male” songs revering “his” horse, than songs flattering “his” bride.

With such a rich trove of songs to chose from, Vilki has produced an album with a good variety of pieces in terms of mood: jovial (for example, riding to fetch a bride), contemplative (off to war) and even esoteric (glorification of mystical horse deities). The CD cover and insert include impressive photos of the group, an informative piece on the importance of horses to ancient Latvians, and a short biography of Vilki. Summaries in English also are provided. I would definitely recommend this disc to all those with an interest in traditional folk music, and even to people who may not be folk fanatics, but who simply appreciate national or ethnic music.

The Latvian traditional folk group Vilcenes (female wolves) are the counterpart to the more widely known male singing group Vilki (wolves); the members of Vilcenes, in fact, are the wives of the Vilki. Vilki has always differentiated itself from other folk groups in that the repertoire consists solely of songs about soldiers and war. The group also brings alive the culture of the ancient Latvian warrior. In accordance, the members of Vilcenes sing the songs of the brides, wives and mothers of those warriors from long ago, awaiting their return from the fields of battle.

Vilki has released several albums over the years, and now Vilcenes has a debut compact disc, Karavīra līgaviņa (Bride of the Warrior).

It must be said that both Vilki and Vilcenes see their main mission as attempting to recreate the traditional way of life of the Latvian and Līv tribes of the 10th-13th centuries. They do this by celebrating the solstices, equinoxes and other agricultural festivals, including familial occasions such as weddings and baptisms, as reconstructed from historical and archaeological sources. In their enthusiasm, they have learned to weave cloth, braid sashes, tool leather and smith the jewelry and weaponry to construct the complete wardrobes of their ancestors 900 years ago.

Song has seemingly always been a part of the peoples living in the Baltics, and appropriately, Vilki and Vilcenes have given singing a large role in their attempts at reliving the past. Astoundingly, many folk songs, especially those about war, have survived the centuries relatively unchanged from their original form, thus giving an added authenticity to the endeavors of these unique folklorists.

This unprecedented authenticity, with a focus on warriors and ancient warcraft, sparked interest in the general Latvian public. What started out as a rather private group of families with a shared interest in ancient history has given rise to two premier Latvian folk groups, Vilki and Vilcenes, performing in public both at home and abroad.

Almost all of the 20 tracks on Karavīra līgaviņa deal with the unenviable position of either awaiting your loved one from war or readying your son for war. That said, the songs on this album are mostly quite melancholy, but never “wailing”—true to our stoic, northern sensibilities. One of my favorites is “Lempis,” in which a young woman rides to battle in the stead of five lazy brothers. The songs are sung either a capella or with a minimal accompaniment of drums, whistle, kokle or ģīga (a stringed instrument that usually plays a bass line). The production level is quite simple, which I assume is an attempt at keeping the sound authentic, rather than “mystical” or “new-agey.” One should also keep in mind that the women of Vilcenes are neither professional musicians nor singers, as they themselves are always quick to say.

The CD insert includes all texts to the songs in Latvian, a short description of each song in English, as well as a short narrative consisting of a grandmother telling her granddaughter about the trials of sending men to war (also translated into English). The graphic design of the CD is comprised of photographs of the Vilcenes and close-ups of the members’ beautiful hand-made costumes. I would recommend this CD to those with a keen interest in Latvian folklore, as many of the songs on the album cannot be heard anywhere else.