The Latvian rock group Prāta vētra (BrainStorm) is back with a new album, Četri krasti (Four Shores), this after a hiatus lasting more than two years.

That’s not surprising, given that bassist Gundars Mauševics (known as Mūmiņš) died in an auto accident last year. Much of the material on this compact disc was being written while Mūmiņš was still alive. The album is dedicated to him.

The album contains only 10 songs (under 40 minutes playing time), so you don’t have too much time to get acquainted with the album cover artwork or Anton Corbijn’s photographs. However, the album has something for everybody’s musical tastes.

The album takes right off with the title track “Četri krasti“ in a bass and rythmic sound barrage that sounds quite similar to musical material by the Swedish rock group Kent. This is the album’s showcase song.

The next song, “Pilots Tims,“ seems quite ordinary in comparision. A light melodic song with a French chorus text will certainly make a few listeners smile and sing along.

The third song, “Kur milzu kalni liekas mazi,“ uses quotes from the work of Latvian poet Imants Ziedonis, who currently is seriously ill. Perhaps this is a way for lead singer Renārs Kaupers to pay homage to Ziedonis. (The song “Rudens“ also quotes from Ziedonis). It’s a real moody song that takes a bit of time to take off, but once it’s going, it just sounds like a mixture of material the band has done before.

Next is the Midnight Oil-sounding “Tin Drums.“ I can already picture it as the MTV video song. It’s a nice, steady rocking tune with good, catchy lyrics and is one of two English-language songs on the album. (The plan is to release an English version of the album in the fall, according to record company MICREC.)

On the next track, Kaupers teams up with The Hobos frontman Rolands Ūdris for the lyrics on “Purpur“ (Purple). This song uses quite a bit of sound loop effects with which I’m not so impressed. The cheesy Chris Isaac guitar in the beginning just kills the song before it ever gets going. This song is probably the weak link on the album.

On the other hand, “Rudens“ (Autumn) is a nice, little, slow song that’s a real sleeper, but in concert it will definitely work well with the crowd singing along. At first, I was little skeptical about the tremolo organ on the track (probably producer Alex Silva’s idea), but it’s OK not being overdone.

Tick-tack goes the next song, “Tā nogurt var tikai no svētkiem,“ with a lot of ironic lyrics and a catchy chorus.
 
A movie music track is almost a sure thing on a Prāta vētra record and this time it sounds like the Fiddler on the Roof is singing and dancing with “Māsa nakts“ (Sister Night).

On the R.E.M. and BrainStorm tour earlier this year, I had a chance to hear the second-to-last track, “Sunrise (Deep in Hell),“ a fresh bluesy song that is not quite like anything they’ve done before. The Wurlitzer keyboard sound fits in just right with the choppy guitar.

Lapsa Kūmiņš (Reynard The Fox) shows up on the last song on the album, “Lapsa,” while the rest of the band sing the chorus and tries to catch the tricky fox by the tail. The song is a sure winner with all kids and a good, strong song to round up the album. The chorus reminds me of the melody of an old Coca-Cola commercial, but it sounds good anyway.

As mentioned, there’s something for every listener on this record. But it does leave open to question Prāta vētra’s future music direction. As a whole, the album gets my recommendation, but still doesn’t measure up to masterworks like Veronika (1996) or Viss ir tieši tā kā tu vēlies (1997). My top picks from the album are “Četri krasti,” “Tin Drums,” “Rudens,” “Lapsa” and “Sunrise.” Prāta vētra sets out on a concert tour of Latvia this summer and we’ll probably be sure to hear some of these songs played live during the tour.

Latvians and Estonians have a similar folk music background—logically so, seeing as they are geographical neighbors. Even though they use similar instruments, each nationality has its own interpretation of this musical genre.

Ezīši, an Estonian and Latvian collaboration from the United States, draws on these similarities and has created a very pleasant “easy listening” compact disc. The recording is good for background music for a dinner party, great as a conversation piece to introduce non-Balts to the folk music of the region (this is Baltic, not Balkan music—no balalaikas here!) and can even as an accompaniment to a Latvian or Estonian (or Lithuanian, while we’re at it) dance night.

Ezīši (also known as Siilikesed in Estonian and Hedgehogs in English) is a group of musically talented individuals from Indianapolis, Ind. Most of the members are U.S.-born and only some have Baltic roots. Their common trait is a passion for folk music. They even made some of their instruments themselves and, according to the CD liner notes, their “goals are to help preserve and to spread awareness of the folk music of the immigrant communities from the Eastern Baltic area…our specialty is the presentation of medleys of similar or at least compatible tunes from different nationalities of northeastern Europe.”

Even the name of the group is a glimpse into Baltic heritage. “The name of the group recalls rarely seen but fondly remembered creatures of the old homelands,” the liner notes continue. “These little animals can protect themselves by rolling up into a spiny ball. Thus they aptly symbolize Estonians’ and Latvians’ talent for self-preservation without being aggressive or dangerous to others.”

These folks are masters of their instruments—and not just the kokle. (I’ve heard many a CD of just kokle music, which is most certainly the best lullaby music to date! Kokle songs often all blend into one and the endless plucking of strings can become annoying after a while.) These guys also play the bagpipes (dūdas), shepherd’s horn (ganu rags), wood flute (stabule), accordion, tri-level rattle (trīdeksnis) and many other ancient Baltic percussion instruments. Their rendition of the folk songs is certainly not conducive to sleep! Each instrument appears to have been carefully chosen for each particular tune. No vocals are performed so the focus is purely on the melodies as they are interpreted via the various instruments.

This CD provides a smorgasbord of different types of melodies: some dance tunes, others more contemplative and still others very ancient, soulful melodies that I had never heard before. The liner notes give insight into the similarities of these songs in the region. In some cases the songs have only recently “crossed borders.” The pancake dance (“Pankūkas”) was taught to a group of Lithuanian students by a Czech dance group in the 1970s and a decade later the Lithuanians taught it to their northern neighbors, the Latvians. It would be an interesting topic for a thesis to research the origin of each song and trace it as it was adopted and adapted by folk from neighboring countries.

The music in this recording comes across very pure and clean, probably a combination of sophisticated recording and very precise playing. For instance, the performance of “Sidrabiņa lietiņš lija” (The Silvery Rain) is so sharp it seems the sound cuts the air with a knife.

The dances “Pankūkas” and “Apaļais mēness” (The Round Moon) make your feet want to get up and dance to the music.

For some reason the Balts seem to have mastered the “sad songs.” These more often than not are songs about orphans and their lot in life. Track 26 on this CD provides a medley of hauntingly beautiful “sad songs.”

I have a challenge for you: If you get a chance to listen to this CD, test your knowledge of Baltic folk music and try to discern which song is from which region in the Baltics. I’m sure you’ll learn something new on hearing and reading about each and every song.

The recording may be ordered from Ezīši member Ieva Johnson by contacting her via e-mail at sijats@yahoo.com.

Marija Naumova’s latest compact disc, Nesauciet sev līdzi, is a collection of 10 songs that somehow doesn’t measure up to her earlier recordings. Individually, the songs are gentle on the ear, but the album seems to lack the direction I’ve come to expect from a performer known for her transformations.

On the CD cover, we see that Naumova’s physical appearance has changed once more. Perhaps this is what led me to expect a musical transformation as well. Gone is the shoulder-length hair, now cropped closer than ever before. But inside, Naumova hasn’t taken the same kind of risks.

A press release described the album as a “peaceful, acoustic, chill-out” effort. At times, it is just that, but songs such as “Dūmains vakars”—presented from the vantage point of someone who seems at the crossroads of a relationship—may leave the careful listener more agitated than relaxed.

Naumova, already a rising stage and recording star as the new millenium began, got a big boost in 2002 when her Latin-inspired “I Wanna” won the Eurovision Song Contest. She has recorded several albums in different languages, but her best, in my opinion, remains her 2001 French collection, Ma voix, ma voie. Lately, Naumova has been busy with stage performances and concerts, which may explain why her newest recording appears two years after her last album.

Fans who admire Naumova’s linguistic range won’t be disappointed by Nesauciet sev līdzi. (Naumova, an ethnic Russian, speaks five languages.) The 10 songs include five in Latvian, three in French and one each in English and in Portuguese. Lyrics for seven new songs were written by Jean-Michel Galopin, Astra Skrābane,  the U.S.-born James Werts of Estonia and the Latvian writer Māra Zālīte. Music for the new material was composed by Andrejs Jevsjukovs, Sergejs Manukjans and Ivars Musts—as well as by Naumova herself.

The album begins with “Pilsētas skice,” a study of a moment’s daydream. The song, with lyrics by Skrābane and music by Naumova, attempts to set the tone for the rest of the album: light jazz transporting a story of happenstance.

On the second track, “Des pas,” Galopin took Latvian composer Aleksandrs Kublinskis’ classic “Noktirne” and put French text to it, replacing lyrics originally written by A. Brežģis. (A number of Latvian artists have recorded the Latvian version, for example, Nicol on her 2003 release Melns un balts.)

“Tikai,” a love song with lyrics by Zālīte, is a musically upbeat track that sounds out of place on this album and may remind some listeners of material from Naumova’s 2002 release, Noslēpumi.

On the seventh track, Naumova does right by Jacques Revaux and Claude François, who in 1967 wrote “Comme d’habitude,” better known in the English-speaking world as Frank Sinatra’s “My Way.” Her rendition is nice, but it lacks the power and conviction of Sinatra’s anthem.

The track I’ve listened to most is “Saldējums.” It’s a tune about a broken heart: “Saldējums manā glāzē, balts kā ķiršu krūms. Raugos es kā lēni izkūst, glāzē saldējums” (Ice cream in my glass, white like a cherry bush. I watch how slowly melts, the ice cream in the glass). A line from the song also gives the album its name.

On the last track, “Ó Gente de Minha Terra,” Naumova expands her linguistic offerings by singing in the fado style of Portugal. The song, penned by Amália Rodrigues and Tiago Machado, probably is little known in North America, but has had success in Europe for the young Portuguese fado singer Mariza.

Perhaps it is the diversity of languages, as well as some of the lyrics and musical shifts, that leaves me with the sense that Nesauciet sev līdzi doesn’t hold together as well as Naumova’s earlier albums. But she’s a professional. I trust that her next effort will be more cohesive and that we won’t have to wait another two years for it.