Jazz is not everyone’s cup of tea. Neither is funk. I know they aren’t mine. And yet, much like the clever combination of grapefruit (hate it) and cranberry juice (not a big fan), elements that might otherwise leave a bitter taste in your mouth can be brought together to make something that, for unknown reasons, cancel each other out and just seem right.

Acid jazz/rock/pop group The Briefing certainly strays from any established line of Latvian bands in what could probably be likened to a little musical awakening. It is a one-of-a-kind ensemble that twists jazz and funk and pop and rock, grooving to a truly different beat. The vocals sound neither unschooled nor overly primped, leaving the stereotypical vibrato voices of music academy graduates in the dust to make way for aggressive and sultry sounds that speak lyrics a bit grittier than those of their Baltic colleagues. This is your official memo: If you’re in the mood for an on-the-fence kind of safe-but-different, The Briefing’s debut album Funny Thoughts is something you should look into.

Taking in the awkward lip-biting monkey scene (by California street artist Nate Van Dyke) depicted on the cover of Funny Thoughts and the lyrical content of the all-English album, I wasn’t expecting or prepared to learn the members of The Briefing met while playing in a Liepāja church band. I’m not implying they can’t be religious, just that I don’t usually associate churches with street art or monkeys. This strange, in-your-face conglomerate consists of Kristīna Dobele (vocals), Raimonds Dobelis (bass), Sandis Volkovs (drums), Andris Kauliņš (keyboards) and Uldis Melka (guitar).

The Briefing has been making musical wonders since 2002. In addition to being named by the newspaper Diena as one of Latvia’s most progressive jazz bands, The Briefing has a hefty history of playing open-air festivals and has performed throughout the Baltic states and in Poland. The band’s witty lyrics and fascinating sounds show these guys have a propensity for groove.

An outright exclamation of “This is my world!” opens the album in a straightforward, to-the-point introduction—no holding back. Right away you hear an almost complete range of Dobele’s vocals, which are immediately established as unique, capable and willing to try things others wouldn’t. “My World” has a little “acid trip circus Bjork” moment that almost makes you want to turn and run, but it slips out of the trance before things get too weird. Like I said, there are many “wrong yet right” bits to come.

Moving further through the album you get witty lyrics and interesting ideas expressed with cynical poeticism, exclaiming such things as “Oh, how I hate their lies; they are so sticky.” Other lyrics are sassy, or even create a somewhat achy feeling, like with the track “Dry Skin,” which starts out very soft before moving into twangy, dreamlike sounds.

The album is a theme park of sounds. At times I feel like I’ve stumbled onto a Japanese pop-rock band cum Mario Brothers video game set (“Hurry Up!”), while other tracks put me in a fancy dinner club filled with tuxedos and the rustle of evening gowns (“Lullaby”).

The album truly does take getting used to and after countless hours of listening to it on loop, I am bothered by a good portion of it, but there are a few tracks that are little consolation prizes for sticking with the program. My favorites include “My World,” “Totally” and “Do I Know You,” all three of which carry certain clarity with the clean mess of drum, keyboard and guitar. Everything has its place, though it may not really sound like it. Some other tracks veer a bit more toward the side of “what is this?”, like the marginally dark “Funny Thoughts (Inside My Head),” wherein the narrator entertains thoughts of killing her boyfriend and the possible repercussions. All of these creepy thoughts are set to a background of bubblegum funk and psycho whistling. Then there are the galactic, tippy-toe sounds of “My Boo” and the plea to one’s lover to rethink leaving. The album’s wind-down strikes as a bit lazy compared to the preceding tracks, but the complete change of style is a small redeeming point.

Funny Thoughts deals a lot with inner and outer human turmoil, voicing bursting opinions and ideas not often heard from Latvians. It’s a real salad bar of emotions and ideas, and though it’s a bit difficult to get into and keep up with, I am at least able to appreciate the simple fact that The Briefing is different.

Guitarist Kristaps Grasis has teamed up with flutist Liene Sējāne to record an album of contemporary chamber music, appropriately titled Modern Chamber Music. Classically, the term “chamber music” applies to works for smaller ensembles, so that it could be performed in a smaller “chamber.” Usually this refers to works like piano duets, string quartets and chamber choir pieces.

As a “modern” twist to this, Grasis and Sējāne, together with Wendel Biskup on bass and Mike Haarman on percussion, composed their own chamber music works and recorded them on this compact disc, released last year in Germany by ZYX Music.

Sējāne and Grasis have a long history together. Grasis, himself from Sweden and son of Latvian folk singer Austris Grasis, studied at the Royal College of Music and the Royal Swedish Academy of Music, both in Stockholm. On one of his first visits to Latvia in the 1980s, he met up with members of the Latvian rock group Pērkons, including keyboardist and principal composer Juris Kulakovs, and brothers Leons and Juris Sējāns. Grasis has released two albums, his debut Nangilima (1994) and Naktis/Nights (1996). He also collaborates with Latvian poet Juris Kronbergs on the album Vilks vienacis, which also features the One-Eye Wolf Band.

Liene Sējāne, originally from Latvia and the daughter of Pērkons guitarist Leons Sējāns, studied flute at the Latvian Academy of Music. Via Grasis’ collaborations with the members of Pērkons, she began working together with him and they released their first album, Parallels, in 2004. The album was published by Musica Baltica in Latvia and featured works by Béla Bartók, Astor Piazzolla and original material by Grasis.

The CD begins with the Sējāne-composed “Elve’s Song”, an almost Renaissance-like work, particularly with her flute work. In fact, it almost seems that the apostrophe is in the wrong place—and maybe it was meant to be “Elves’ Song”—since the work would fit quite nicely in any of the Lord of the Rings films. Or perhaps the song simply is about someone named Elve.

Following on that is the more modern “Fantasie: The Wolf and the Garden” by Grasis, with a more jazz-like influence and a more modern sound to it. “Night Turns to Day,” also by Grasis, features him on classical guitar in the introduction, joined later by the flute of Sējāne. The track presents the sounds of daybreak, as well as its calmness and periodic tension (perhaps from birds who are just beginning to awake).

The CD also features “The Traveller’s Suite”, a work by Grasis made up of the movements “The City,” “Promenade,” “At the Airport,” “Trainride” and “By the Sea.” “The City” features a minor key melody, performed by Sējāne, slightly reminding the listener of English folk songs. “Trainride” is also far more soothing than an actual train ride usually is, but otherwise the movement is a very tender work.

The packaging of the CD is very minimal, with no biographical information or any additional information about the works. However, one can visit the artists’ Web site for further information. Unfortunately, neither the packaging nor the Web site offer any further information on the works on the CD. It would have been interesting to read about what inspired the works and what the intended meaning is, but the listeners are left to guess about what the artists’ intentions were (which, perhaps, was the idea all along).

To give the CD the simple title of Modern Chamber Music is very ambitious, almost implying that this could be a new standard against which further chamber music works are judged against. The musicians are clearly talented and the CD is pleasant enough to listen to and well produced, but perhaps it still lacks something that would make it stand out among other such releases of modern instrumental works. Though certainly no expert on classical music myself, I probably would not call this “chamber music,” more simply instrumental music. More often than not, it reminds me of the progressive rock of the 1960s or 1970s, with the flute in particular recalling Jethro Tull (and maybe even early King Crimson). The music is all very soothing and probably would fit very well on a “smooth jazz” radio station. Certainly the guitar and flute combination is one that is rarely heard, so that itself is one reason the talented duo of Grasis and Sējāne is worth keeping an eye on.

One practically needs a scorecard to track everyone who has gone through the ranks of the Latvian rock group Līvi. The Liepāja-based group has been through so many lineup changes that one becomes dizzy trying to remember them all. Former members often go on to their own successes. Singer Igo Fomins launched a successful solo career after spending time in the group. Guitarist Tomass Kleins, after spending many years in the group, joined up with Igo’s brother Ivo to form the successful but short-lived duo Fomins un Kleins.

A former Līvi member who seemed to vanish completely off the radar after leaving the group is Aivars Brīze. His last album with the band was 1997’s Bailes par ziņģēm, after which he departed the group seemingly never to be heard from again. However, he has resurfaced, partnered with Kleins and other well-known musicians, to form the “new” band Leģions. The band released its debut compact disc, Nekad nesaki nekad, in the fall of 2008.

One of the reasons the duo Fomins un Kleins broke up was supposedly because Kleins wanted to pursue pop music. Kleins formed the band Cacao with popular young singer Andris Ērglis and recorded the big pop hit “Ripoja akmens.” However, after a very public breakup, Cacao was disbanded and Kleins returned to his hard rock roots.

Joining Brīze and Kleins (who is also the principal music writer) is another Līvi member, drummer Vilnis Krieviņš, as well as bassist Eduards Glotovs and keyboard player Juris Kristons. Throw in lyrics by respected rock lyricist Guntars Račs and you would figure you would have the recipe for a seminal Latvian rock album.

Unfortunately, the record is underwhelming and not quite as good as you would expect considering who was involved in making it. But first, though, I must point out that Brīze sounds great. He returns to the microphone for, I believe, the first time in a decade, and has not missed a beat. His unique chainsaw-through-iron voice that sang Līvi classics like “Dzelzsgriezējs” is as strong as ever. Kleins’ guitar work is also as good as ever. However, for whatever reason, the record remains uninspiring, with many songs barely climbing past the generic rock anthem level.

The album begins promisingly, with riffing that would make Angus Young of AC/DC proud in “Tev vajag daudz.” However, much like recent AC/DC releases (like 2008’s Black Ice, sadly generic and uninspired), the riff is the best part of the song, and the song does not grab you as much as an opener should.

Next up is a song about a dog, appropriately titled “Suns,” and a number of tracks that are rather cliché rock music, not to mention with quasi-philosophical lyrics, such as “Laiks ir laiks” (“Time is Time”) or “Notici sev” (“Believe in Yourself”). The standout track is the final song: the ballad “Kad brālis modīsies” (“When Brother Awakes”). The palpable emotion in Brīze’s voice is heartfelt.

The album also sounds a bit too polished. For a rock group that is meant to be a rough and tumble bunch, Leģions seems to be holding back. I would certainly like to hear Kleins go all out in at least one song. Perhaps he is shaking off the last remnants of his excursion into all-out pop music with Ērglis. Or perhaps the guys need some additional time to get into a groove. Hopefully a second album (if there is one—these groups are notorious for being short lived and unstable) will show the members’ full capabilities, as Nekad nesaki nekad seems to be almost reserved and tentative in certain ways. With the talent brought to the table, these guys should have knocked this one out of the park, but apart from a few brief glimpses of brilliance (and the very welcome return of Brīze), this album is, unfortunately, all too forgettable.