People always say the pace of life in Europe is more relaxed or simply slower than elsewhere. This review, for example, could (or should) have been finished weeks ago, but I like to think on my words before I commit them to “.doc”. Rock-pop group Ēnas has been together since 2005 (and averaging three concerts a month since 2006), but its self-titled debut just came out back in April of this year. The band took its time as well. My reactions to the album were also delayed, as well as fickle. And although I can’t say I’m 100 percent swept away, I can at least recommend Ēnas further.

The four-man band is a smorgasbord of total talent, consisting of Lauris Valters (vocals), Jānis Ķergalvis (solo guitar, acoustic guitar), Dāvis Ābrams (keyboard, piano) and Mārtiņš Miļevskis (drums). Though the group is relatively new, its style of music rings more familiar than not, a rock-pop sound that tends to easily remind people of bands like Latvia’s Lādezers or U.S. band The Calling.

The album starts with a very steady orchestral and piano introduction that sounds like something you might hear during a transition scene on some American television series. I can only understand about seven words total, but I’m not bothered. Valters’ voice soars through the latter half of the first one minute and 34 seconds of the album and leaves you with a good feeling about what is hopefully to follow.

On that note, not only does Ēnas start its album out in English, but more than half of the album is in English. A somewhat risky move for a debut? Maybe, but Ēnas lucks out in that it doesn’t affect the quality of the album as a whole.

Track 2, “Beautiful Morning,” follows the same musical principles of the intro but trades the strings for guitar. The lyrics are very positive and fairly well developed, though there is the questionable use of the word “funny,” which sticks out painfully. The most notable and positive aspect of the song is the vocals, which are well-rounded and don’t disappoint.

“Viss savādāk” (Everything’s Changed) takes a darker turn from the previous track. A slightly blast-from-the-past synth intro and background beat accompany lyrics that build a picture of a brownish haze of desparation. Even the lyrics portray the narrator as having a sense of being lost, knowing but at the same time not knowing where he stands in the implied relationship. But I feel the song lacks originality. The sound is nothing new, the title of the song is nothing new—it’s a weak link in the album.

The next track, “Par šo un to” (About This and That), is simple in nature. A very strong guitar and snare beat demands your attention and is good at getting you physically involved in the listening process. However, the lyrics are not impressive—the song is about juxtaposition and contrast, but nothing original. The music is good, though, and pleasantly passive-aggressive. If you can look past or just ignore the ho-huminess of the words, the track is decent.

“SirC” (Heart) is probably the first and best known song by Ēnas. I had actually forgotten about the song until I listened to the entire album for the first time and, very fittingly, my heart jumped with joy at hearing something I had heard before. The guitars dominate this track, giving you the first good listen at what these guys can do. Once again, the vocals let loose and the whole thing just comes together. It’s a catchy song that radiates positivity and, though I wasn’t moved by it way back when, it’s now one of my favorite songs of the year.

My second favorite, Track 6, “Ar skaistām frāzēm” (With Beautiful Words) is a meloncholy song, but has a truly wonderful sound to it. I could listen to the intro over and over again, even with the synth, which actually works this time. A combination of guitar, drums and excellent bass line melt together in a smooth beat that leads you into the vocals almost without noticing what’s happened. The lyrics leave you with an achy feeling and, even though it’s a sad song, I appreciate the lack of beating around the bush. It’s no-nonsense, a “No, something’s up and this is what it feels like” tune:

Kāds no mums nav patiess.
Vai savādāk var būt?
Daudz sapņu prāts noliedz,
Tos zaudējot, sirds lūst.

Tad pēkšņi viens var pateikt
viss beidzies, kā būs – tā būs.
Tā zvaigzne kādreiz izdziest,
tai mirklī pagaist it viss.

And let me say once more just how big a fan I am of the bass line. Thumbs. Up.

Skipping ahead a bit, track 8, “Neprātīgais” (Reckless) starts out slow, then unexpectedly picks up. There’s an interesting ambiguity here in subject matter and I like the image the lyrics create. This song is also one of two (the other being track 7, “Somehow”) that made me start thinking that Ēnas might be borderline Christian rock. The subject matter and potential references to religion are more apparent in these two tracks, but looking back over the preceding material, the rest of the album could also easily be associated with belief in a higher power.

Tracks 7 (“Somehow”), 9 (“Double Coffee”), 10 (“Rainbow”) and 11 (“Mr. Evil”) are all decidedly my least favorite parts of the album. While technically strong, they form a line of English tracks with randomized styles and approaches with which I apparently have some kind of problem.

“Somehow,” which isn’t saved by the wonderful musical talent of the group, features less than perfect English grammar and the one and only profanity on the entire album. Is the song a huge reference to the Rapture or something? The second coming of Christ? Then there’s “Double Coffee,” which I thought would be a clever reference to the café and restaurant chain (it’s not). These two tracks form a pair of grammatical anti-wonders that I can’t bring myself to get over. It doesn’t make a difference that the written lyrics are mostly correct, because it’s what you hear that matters.

“Rainbow” and “Mr. Evil” also left me less than enthused. Maybe the problem with these tracks is that Ēnas, being a relatively new group, has already involved so many other people. If the band members had less outside help and more of themselves on their first album, there would be a better chance for them to establish themselves as themselves. Let us hear who you are before you let us hear what you can do with everyone else.

Track 12 is back in the more consistent style of the band. The second verse is a little too cliché, but the refrain is outstanding. Right away it’s apparent that the English is much more advanced. As a result, I’m inclined to think that this song may have meant more to Valters than the other English tracks. In any case, the sound here is more refined. The vocals run through a wider range and the individual instruments can be heard much better than in the other.

“Acīm ciet” (With Eyes Closed) is the “cool” song of the album. Astro’n’out vocalist Māra Upmane joins Valters in a duet that basically summarizes a lot of what has been already “discussed” in the lyrics of the rest of the album. One of the nuances of the song is that Upmane and Valters seem to have a similar vocal range, which they take complete advantage of. They take turns in singing the high and low notes. Their voices mesh well and the track slows the album down, nicely preparing it for the close.

The final track of the album has two parts to it: the actual song, “Player”, and a bonus track, which is a rather unconvincing English version of “SirC.” “Player” is another track with some good imagery and, looking past some grammatical speedbumps, is probably one of the best songs on the album. Once again all members of the band are given the chance to clearly show what they can do. Piano and vocals run for a little over three minutes without drums and guitar, then the group has four more minutes to prove that it is adept at different instrumental-voice combinations and that it can take it down a notch without a hitch.

I have to say that if for the most part it sounds like I don’t like the album, it’s not all true. My opinion of the band changed completely after I saw Ēnas perform live. I felt cheated that the album didn’t have the same vibe as the live show. It wasn’t just the that it was a surround-sound, live gig. On stage the band members sounded so much more “there” with their music. It was like I was watching a completely different band play the same Ēnas songs. They might benefit from recording a live album: the electricity they emit and receive is something else. Ēnas, when you break it down, is a group of very talented individuals who work together like they were born to do so.

It goes without saying that Latvians have many beloved folk songs. It also goes without saying that Latvians love singing, especially folk songs. Also well known is the fact that the Latvian Radio Choir, conducted by Sigvards Kļava, is one of the best choirs in Latvia, if not the world. It is appropriate, then, that just in time for the 2008 Latvian Song Festival the record label Upe tuviem un tāliem would release a collection of folk songs, Skaisti dziedi.

When I heard about the compact disc, I picked it up as soon as I could. What surprised me is that only half of the songs are full choir performances. The rest are solo performances.

The choir arrangements are all the “classic” arrangements such as “Pūt, vējiņi” and “Kur tu skriesi vanadziņi” by Andrejs Jurjāns, “Rīga dimd” and “Krauklīt’s sēž ozolā” by Jānis Cimze, and “Cekulaine zīle dzied” and “Tumša nakte, zaļa zāle” by Emilis Melngailis. Though these songs have been recorded many, many times, the presentation by the Latvian Radio Choir and conductor Kļava remains fresh and engaging.

The other half of the disc contains performances by solo artists such as folk singer Zane Šmite (“Vedat mani ciema puiši”) and Kārlis Rūtentāls (“Kur tu teci gailīti mans” and “Skaisti dziedi lakstīgala”), as well as the duo of countertenor Ārijs Šķepasts and bass Gundars Dziļums on the old favorite “Kur tad tu nu biji, āzīti manu.” Most all of these performances feature kokle prodigy Laima Jansone (in fact, she arranged every song she plays on—more than a dozen). Still not quite yet finished at the Latvian Academy of Music, she already is able to make quite a name for herself as a rising star of the kokle, one of the most Latvian of all instruments.

The only spots where the collection stumbles are the performances of “Āvu, āvu baltas kājas” and “Bēdu manu lielu bēdu” by soprano Elīna Libauere. The songs, in my opinion, are sung way too fast! It is for the same reason that I wasn’t too fond of the Liku bēdu zem akmeņa folk song collection released by Upe in 2007. Certainly it is a technical achievement to be able to sing a song at 90 miles per hour with barely a breath, but at that speed much of the joy and fun of these songs is diminished.

All song texts are included, including English translations that perhaps may lead to bewilderment among some who may not understand why a tune about an “alleged” drunk horse runner became such a beloved song.

Honestly, instead of the half CD of choir arrangements and half CD of solo performances, I would have preferred a full CD of each. Conspicuously absent are the Latgallian “Aiz azara augsti kolni” (also by Jurjāns) or any of the many arrangements of “Ziedi, ziedi, rudzu vārpa.” Of course, with literally hundreds of choir arrangements of folk songs, one has to be very selective. Perhaps in the future we could hope for another CD of all modern folk song arrangements, including favorites such as Anita Kuprisa’s arrangmenet of “Ģērbies, saule, sudrabota,” or Imants Ramiņš’ arrangement of “Pūt, vējiņi,” or Selga Mence’s arrangement of “Neba maize pate nāca,” to name just a few.

As a collection of Latvian folk songs, containing old favorites and new arrangements for solo performers, this is one of the best to have ever been released, and well worth picking up. The Latvian Radio Choir and Kļava, not to mention kokle performer Jansone, are to be commended for such great performances, which will remind all listeners of the value and beauty of these timeless songs.

Some people have reproached Iļģi for playing Irish, instead of Latvian, music. If you’re one of them, then you’ll have to widen your criticism. With its latest compact disc, Ej tu dejot, Iļģi has branched out to include a bunch more other styles. The band therefore recommends the disc of dances only to people with a sense of humor. The leitmotif—pancakes—says it all.

Pankūkas (pancakes) is a very popular dance in Latvia and often the first one people learn. Listening to the melody over and over and over again, though, can get boring, if not downright annoying. So as any musician would, the members of Iļģi began playing around with the tune in different styles. In the end, they must not have been able to agree on which style to put on the CD, so instead they present 11 versions of the same melody interspersed between the “regular” pieces on the disc: from the rock-n-roll “Hotcakes” to the klezmer “Latkes,” and from the “Pfannkuchen” march to the “Spacecakes” reggae. That, or they just had way too much fun playing around.

Iļģi joked around with the other tunes as well. “Ačkups” reminds me of Hooked on Classics. “Dirižablis” starts out with an almost Greek-sounding accordion, but the Hooked on Classics beat kicks in after the first verse, as it does on the Ukrainian dance “Barabolja” and many more to come. The heartbreaking Estonian melody “Subota” features violin and accordion and sounds suspiciously like a Finnish waltz. “Ģežablis” sounds almost Latin. Klezmer paired with rock gives the slightly monotone “Apaļdancis” an appropriately frenzied sound. Half-way through “Žemaituks” the musicians introduce a minor key interlude. If you’re used to following the melody while you’re dancing, the (very elegant) musical twists that Iļģi throws in here and there may confuse you and your feet. Just concentrate on repeating the step sequences as usual, though, because the measures all line up correctly and the melody usually returns to something familiar again. Other dances included on the disc are “Diždancis” (Apaļais mēness), “Ābelīte,” “Rucavietis” and “Valsis uguns gaismā.” At the very end is a hidden track where you can hear all of the pancakes together in one big, tall stack.

The CD Ej tu dejot (Go Dance Already!) was recorded live in a matter of days during the summer of 2007 at a house deep in the Latvian countryside. Band leader Ilga Reizniece said that they could have continued with the pancake styles all night long, but when they began toying with a Chinese version, they decided to call it quits.

As is typical of Iļģi’s latest recordings, Ej tu dejot is fairly “heavy” with guitars, bass, drum kit and continuous beat. But the violin, accordion and kokle are still there, too, providing for playfulness and lightness. The result is very easy and fun to listen to. Iļģi strives to give Latvian music a modern, worldly spark and leaves the revival of historically and ethnically accurate manners of singing and playing to others. That said, all of the melodies that Iļģi uses as starting points are traditional dance tunes. Oh, and by the way, Ej tu dejot is Iļģi’s first purely instrumental recording.

As you can surmise, the musicians take lots of freedoms with the melodies and arrangements. I especially like the bits of musical humor scattered here and there. For example, can you find the “Drunken Sailor” and “Kālabadi galdiņam” on the disc? My only criticism would be that many of the tracks, particularly the pancake tracks, are too short to really dance to. Blame the limitations of disc capacity.

For more information on Iļģi, visit the band’s Web site at www.ilgi.lv. The site contains descriptions for most of the dances on Ej tu dejot, but they are unfortunately still only in Latvian. English translations ought to be ready soon. If you are in Latvia, the best place to actually try out the dances is at the Rīga Dance Club.