After half a century of official disparagement and outright criminalization in the Baltic States, Christmas has returned, with its joyous and hopeful sights, sounds, and traditions. While we in the West continued to celebrate and enrich this heritage during those years, the people of Eastern Europe have only been able to do so again freely in the last decade, since the demise of Communism.

For many years, a major contributor to the choral repertoire for the Christmas season has been the New York Latvian Concert Choir. Since the early 1980s it has commissioned and premiered a new Christmas cantata from a different Latvian composer every year. In 1997 the choir released an album containing five of these works. Now Christmas By the Amber Sea has appeared with two more, by Jānis Lūsēns and Ilze Akerberga, as well as a work by 40-year-old Estonian composer Urmas Sisask.

Sisask’s “Christmas Oratorio” dates from 1992. Lasting just shy of 37 minutes, it is divided into 21 short, vividly contrasting movements setting traditional Latin texts recounting Christ’s birth. With skillful, imaginative writing, it grabs the listener’s attention from the outset. A large ensemble dominated by the sharp, bright colors of recorders, harpsichord, organ and piano is carefully and lucidly scored, with small groups of instruments often used to colorful effect. Choral and solo sections are punctuated by several purely instrumental interludes as the work progresses without any extraneous gestures, keeping the listener’s attention focused throughout. Rhythmic propulsiveness, clear textures and frequent contrasts occasionally bring the music of Carl Orff (of “Carmina Burana” fame) to mind.

An all-Estonian performance of the original version with male chorus was released several years ago on the Antes label. Though both recordings are excellent, the newer one sounds richer and fuller, with female soloists’ diction much clearer. However, sung Latin in neither performance entirely follows international standards, with irritatingly local pronounciation of some sounds.

Ilze Akerberga was born in New York City in 1953 and is a musician who conveys her ideas with great sensitivity and skill. Her “Winter Cantata” is half as long as Sisask’s oratorio, with spare, effective textures in a warm, simple style. Six contrasting movements set words by five Latvian poets, reflecting on the snowy northern winter landscape and the mood of the holiday season, often as seen through the eyes of a child (two movements are sung by a children’s choir). While not directly addressing the birth of Christ, “the overall concept [of the work] suggests the close interaction of God’s world with that of man,” in the words of Kathryn Livingston’s excellent progam notes, and the choice of texts underlines the inextricable associations for Balts between Christmas, the winter season, and the winter solstice. Composed in 1981, this is a loving work of great warmth and sincerity.

Born in 1959 in Liepāja, Latvia, Jānis Lūsēns is the composer of the final work on this album, a 1997 cantata titled “Child of the Stars.” Similar in conception to Akerberga’s cantata, it does not address Christmas directly, but rather reflects on the impressions the holiday evokes at different stages in life, with texts by four different Latvian poets.

While it is a lovely work that begins promisingly, I ultimately found it to be less compelling than the other works on the album. Perhaps those works’ more distinctive profiles invite unfair comparison? I found my attention repeatedly drifting in the middle of the work, though the appearance of the children’s choir in the final section provided welcome contrast and brought the work to a satisfying conclusion.

Performances on this album are vivid, sung and played with verve and enthusiasm. Soloists Antra Bigača, Aira Kuzmicka and Aleksandrs Antonenko are wonderful, and a children’s choir and recorder ensemble, both from Riga, sing and play with professionalism. The New York Latvian Concert Choir, together with two renowned Riga choirs, Gaudeamus and Balsis, produce a rich and clear sound. All these forces as well as the Latvian National Symphony Orchestra are led with passionate commitment by Andrejs Jansons in finely nuanced readings.

A beautifully packaged, well-filled recording with superb graphic design, fine notes and fully translated texts—what more could anyone ask for?

"Balancing on a razor’s edge between banality and beauty, the spiritual and rational" is how Liene Jakovļeva aptly characterizes the music of Imants Kalniņš, in her notes for this wonderful new recording of Kalnins’ music for the film Pūt, vējiņi!

Jānis Rainis, the esteemed Latvian poet and playwright, wrote his classic play in folk verse, "Pūt, vējiņi!", in 1913. Sixty years later, Gunārs Piesis directed a film adaptation that has also become a classic, thanks greatly to Kalniņš’ brilliant musical contribution. While the film itself has not been widely seen outside Latvia, some of the music was available on a Melodiya record shortly after the film’s release. This is how I first came to know it 20 years ago, listening to a scratchy little second-hand vinyl disc and marveling at the composer’s vivid imagination and skill in blending popular, folk and classical elements.

"Pūt, vējiņi" (Blow, wind!) is also the first line of a folk tune that is indelibly etched in every Latvian’s psyche, as beloved and significant as the national anthem. Heard at the beginning and end of this score, the tune frames a tale of love and despair in music of a deeply cultural context. But Kalniņš’ handling of the tune takes Rainis’ allegory to yet another level: he embellishes it and presents it on an electric guitar, against a symphonic backdrop! At first hearing, this juxtaposition is jarring to say the least, but it works and ultimately is exquisitely memorable.

Many Latvian composers write in different styles and media, for varied audiences, equally comfortable writing symphonies, popular songs, or folk music arrangements. But Kalniņš doesn’t compartmentalize, keeping idioms or audiences apart. Unafraid of extremes, he positively revels in juxtaposing these different worlds, such as when he calls for a rock drummer in his Fourth Symphony. Expressing himself unflinchingly and eloquently, with honesty, directness and without rigid boundaries, Kalniņš’ skill in melding elements from seemingly antithetical traditions results in a uniquely personal expression that touches and satisfies a wide audience.

This is the second recording of Kalniņš’ music from his hometown Liepāja Symphony Orchestra, and the first orchestral recording I’ve heard from Māris Kupčs, the conductor here. So often, remakes of familiar film scores disappoint, especially when the nuances and flavor of the original are clearly etched in the listener’s mind. But Kupčs’ faithfulness to the letter and the spirit of the original, and vivid, compelling characterizations of the new sections, make this a terrific release. Equally commendable for their contributions are the fine ensemble of singers.

The compact disc is beautifully packaged in a tri-fold sleeve with images from the film. Notes are in English and Latvian, though they are more ruminative than informational. A brief plot outline would have been helpful in guiding listeners unfamiliar with Rainis’ play. Or do the record’s producers assume a limited audience of listeners already familiar with the plot? They shouldn’t. The fully professional presentation of this disc, the appeal of the music, and Imants Kalnins’ growing international reputation should assure a successful life for this disc, within and without the Latvian community.

Latvians call themselves a "singing people." Wherever Latvians gather, a choir is inevitably formed! While the musical ability of many amateur choirs is admirably high, elite and professional ensembles also have an important role in inspiring and performing more difficult and challenging music and presenting Latvian music internationally.

Prominent among these is the Latvian Radio Choir. Established in 1940, it was dubbed the "Teodors Kalniņš Choir" during the latter period of the Soviet occupation in honor of its founder, but since Latvia’s return to independence has again been known by its original name. A flexible ensemble ranging from five to 90 singers allows them to perform music of many styles and eras. The singers’ professional ability and the talented leadership of Sigvards Kļava have raised them to a remarkable level of virtuosity and skill. A prominent Latvian composer recently told me this is the only choir in Latvia currently capable of properly performing this composer’s very difficult vocal music.

The particular interest and value of this new recording, Latviešu mūzika Rīgā, is that it mostly features recent music the average listener wouldn’t usually seek out or encounter. Even "A Birch in Autumn," by the "old master" Jāzeps Vītols, is not among his most frequently performed works. An ethereal, subtle nature evocation, it’s beautifully rendered here with sensitive vocal blending by the Chamber Singers of the Latvian Radio Choir. Ably conducted by Kaspars Putniņš, this ensemble also performs two other works. Pēteris Plaķīdis’ brief setting of the traditional Latin text "Domine salvum fac populum" (Lord, Save Thy People) is propelled to its conclusion by an effective use of repeated figures. In Romualds Kalsons’ harmonically imaginative "In the Sounding Hill," the choir vividly portrays repeated echoes.

Artistic Director Sigvards Kļava leads the full choir in the rest of the program, most of which is also of a spiritual nature. For me, the most impressive discovery was Maija Einfelde’s "Psalm 15." This powerfully expressive setting subtly builds dense dissonances resolving in calmer, more peaceful passages. This is uncompromising, sincere music of harsh beauty. Juris Ābols offers an impassioned setting of "Ave Regina coelorum" (Hail, Queen of Heaven). The "Agnus Dei" from Artūrs Maskats’ "Mass" forms an emotional arch, from a peaceful beginning, building to a dramatic organ passage, then subsiding to a calm conclusion. Andris Dzenītis is the youngest composer represented here (born in 1978), in a lengthy, intense, often anguished setting of "Ave Maria."

St. Francis of Assisi’s writings inspired Pauls Dambis to compose his cycle, "Canti Francescani," from which two sections are heard. In "A Prayer," alternating soprano and baritone soloists’ chantlike passages elicit choral responses. Repeated cries of "psallite" are prominent in "A Song for Sister Death." Pēteris Vasks has come to be contemporary Latvian music’s best-known exponent internationally. The beauty and radiance of his "Dona nobis pacem" never fail to carry the listener along. Aivars Kalējs accompanies impeccably on the organ.

Two secular works fill out the program. Though Imants Kalniņš is known as "the people’s composer," his music never condescends. His special talent for making fresh and imaginative use of simple ideas is effectively heard in "Cinderella." Juris Karlsons’ brief "My Song" is a lovely, engaging piece, sounding "Latvian" (at least to another Latvian) without retreading old formulas.

Another interesting aspect of this release is that every composer’s music was recorded in a different venue in Rīga: churches, university and museum halls, and a recording studio. Not only do the locales sound acoustically splendid and well-suited to the music, but the engineering is remarkably consistent, so there is no jarring change from one acoustic environment to another. The artistically handsome accompanying booklet is filled with photographs of the various locales with interesting historical information. Notes are in Latvian and excellent English, though the latter is sometimes not idiomatic. One other minor caveat: Latin pronounciation is sometimes irritatingly "Latvianized."

This is a magnificent production worthy of the widest dissemination and exposure. Hats off to Kļava for his brilliant conducting and sensitive interpretations, and to the choir for their skill and artistry. Though much of this program is challenging and intense, requiring thoughtful listening with receptive ears and an open mind, it is definitely not a compilation of avant-garde gimmicks or polemics. Latvian composers are clearly aware of international musical trends and techniques in addition to local traditions and practices, and have transcended both to produce music of substance and variety, with both emotional and intellectual appeal.

(Editor’s note: This article originally appeared on SVEIKS.com.)