When I first heard Bordo, Bardo Splash’s debut album, I was at different points reminded of another Latvian group. But I couldn’t quite place it. Prāta Vētra? Jumprava? RamaDance? A bit of research revealed that at least the latter two are related.

Bordo, released late last year, was produced by Aigars Grāvers, one of the four members of the long-standing Jumprava and leader of the exciting Rama Dance project. And, it turns out, Bardo Splash’s lead singer, 21-year-old Rudīte Būmane, performed on Rama Dance’s second album, Extravagance.

Bardo Splash is relatively new to Latvia’s music scene, growing out of the now-defunct group Zupski Rubin. Bardo Splash has performed since 2001 in a variety of venues, including the noted Liepājas Dzintars and Sinepes un Medus festivals, as well as traveling around Latvia with the 2001 Priekšnams tour organized by Radio SWH. Attempts by media to pigeon-hole the group into a particular genre have mentioned modern rock, atmospheric rock, pop and other labels. On Bordo the group crosses and melds genres as needed. One track, “Māras avots,” in the liner notes is even described as postfeiklora, which, I suppose, can in turn be described as contemporary songs that sound like traditional Latvian folk songs but aren’t.

At the time the album was recorded, the group’s members numbered five: Rudīte Būmane on lead vocals and synthesizer; her brother, Renars Būmanis, on drums, programming and synthesizer; Aleksandrs Ruģēns (a.k.a. Sniegs) on vocals, acoustic guitar, Jew’s harp and programming; Edgars Dambis on electric and acoustic guitars, and Ieva Rudzīte on bass and acoustic guitar. Ruģēns was largely responsible for all music and lyrics on the album.

Since last summer, Dambis and Rudzīte no longer are with Bardo Splash, according to Baltic Records Group. A new guitarist and a new bassist are now working with the group in preparation for concerts. Ruģēns, meanwhile, is reported to be abroad, earning money to support his family.

I hope the departures, permanent or temporary, don’t hurt the group, because this is one band I’d like to see hang together for a while. How many rock or pop bands are there in Latvia today with a female lead singer? For Būmane’s potential as a role model alone, the band should survive.

Bordo also is just a good debut album, with an interesting mix of sounds and thoughtful lyrics. Anyone who has heard RamaDance’s Sāga or Extravagance will recognize similar electronica and folkloric elements in some of Bardo Splash’s work, especially on tunes such as “Māras avots” and “Spoku kamanas” (although for the latter the band cites influence from “post-folkore” group Iļģi).

But don’t expect that to be a constant on this album. The lead track, “Kad sajūtas mānās,” for example, is clearly a pop song, although the lyrics describe emotions encountered during a strange tusiņš.

The sweetest song on the album also is the shortest. At one minute and 12 seconds, “Kad straume projam iet” describes a simple philosophy about humankind’s relationship to the recurring forces of nature. Eight layers of Būmane’s vocals are accompanied just by an acoustic guitar. According to the liner notes, an earlier version of the song almost became the title track for the album.

Five of the album’s 14 tracks are in English, including one of the band’s better-known tunes, “Force majeure.” As with many other Latvian groups, Bardo Splash’s Latvian songs generally are better than their English material, although Būmane’s vocals and Ruģēns lyrics make for a nice combination. And, just as other groups lately have done, Bardo Splash offers Latvian and English versions of the some songs: “Glory Nights” is at least musically the same as “Kad sajūtas mānās,” “Four Fingers” is a relative of “Četri,” and “Initiation” is the anglicized “Māras avots.”

As we often lament in our reviews, the liner notes here are spartan. Lyrics are not provided. They would especially be helpful for the English-language tracks, where meaning sometimes is obscured by unpolished pronunciation.

Flaws aside, if you’re looking for something new from Latvia’s popular music scene, Bordo is worth seeking out.

One really never knows what to expect from Prāta Vētra. The band prides itself on doing the unexpected, going against conventional wisdom when recording songs and releasing albums. With its latest compact disc, Dienās, kad lidlauks pārāk tāls, the band surprises again.

The first Prāta Vētra album I bought was the 1999 release Starp divām saulēm, which I really liked. I then got the previous album, Viss ir tieši tā kā tu vēlies, released in 1997. Two of my favorite Prāta Vētra songs are on that album (“Tavas mājas manā azotē” and “Romeo un Džuljeta”), but the rest of the album was truly a head-scratching affair. It really was not at all what I was expecting—truly “alternative” rock.

The next album was the 2001 release Kaķēns, kurš atteicās no jūras skolas, which once again had me scratching my head. This time I was left wondering what happened to the guitars and human drummer. The album was a very slick pop affair, heavy on the keyboards and drum machines, light on the guitar and acoustic drums. Perhaps this should not have been a surprise, considering the big hit and Eurovision contender that the super-poppy, yet pretty, “My Star” was (the song was titled “Īssavienojums” in its Latvian version). Regardless, Kaķēns was yet another excellent album from the band, as the songs were stronger than ever.

So what next to expect from Prāta Vētra? Would the next album be farther down the slick pop trail? Or would the band come back and surprise again?

And the band certainly has surprised me again. Considering the group’s massive success not just in Latvia, but around Europe, I expected a very safe, poppy album that would appeal to the masses and sell lots of records. How surprised I was to hear that the guitar was back in full force, like meeting a dear, old friend whom you have not seen in a long time. Even though years may have gone by, after a few minutes it seems like no time has passed at all. Dienās, kad lidlauks pārāk tāls, though once again departing from the previously established trajectory, has all the necessary ingredients to make for a truly classic album.

Presumably I was not the only one to note the conspicuous absence of guitars on many of the tracks on Kaķēns. On the new album, their return is announced on the first track. “Pa pareizām” is a rocking number that gives the listener a hint of what to expect.

Band members have not changed. Besides Renārs Kaupers on vocals, there is Jānis Jubalts on guitar, Kaspars Roga on drums, Māris Mihelsons on keyboards and Mumiņš (Gundars Mauševics) on bass guitar.

Dienās is actually the Latvian version of the album, while A Day Before Tomorrow is the English version. Starting with Starp divām saulēm, Prāta Vētra has released its albums in two versions, English and Latvian. However, a discouraging trend is that fewer and fewer of the songs on the “Latvian” version are actually in Latvian. On Starp divām saulēm all the songs were in Latvian. On Kaķēns, two of the songs were in English. But on Dienās half of the “Latvian” album (six songs) is in English. Perhaps this should not come as a surprise—it is quite demanding of the listening public to expect an album entirely in English and another album entirely in Latvian! Might as well enjoy it while we can, because if the band’s successes continue, it is entirely possible that English will be Prāta Vētra’s “only” language in the future!

(Dienās also is the first album in Latvia to be guarded by anti-copying software, meaning it’s difficult—but not impossible—to make digital copies of the songs.)

Of the English songs, two stand out. “Colder,” the first single off the album, is not your everyday pop song. In fact, it is a more somber, guitar-driven track. The second stand-out song is “Gala Komma,” probably the most surprising song on the album, as it has an almost African beat and rhythm to it. A lot of the words in the song seem to be made up, but perhaps there is some meaning to them. In any case, it is an infectious song, guaranteed to stick in your head. On the whole, the English lyrics on the album are light years ahead in terms of lyricism than Prāta Vētra’s previous albums.

Of the Latvian songs, my favorite is most likely “Es gribu” (“I Want”). Most all of the great Prāta Vētra songs are those that on the outside are upbeat and pretty, but inside have a tinge of sadness. This song is no exception, and it features some great acoustic guitar work from Jubalts. Another of my favorites in the same vein is “Man kabatā” (“In My Pocket”).

Another standout track is the first Latvian single, “Plaukstas lieluma pavasaris” (“Palm-sized Spring”), featuring drummer Roga playing the accordion!

For those who are specifically looking for the slick poppy stuff, never fear. Linda Leen stops by to sing a duet with Kaupers on the overwrought ballad “Reality Show.” The lyrics here are a bit cliche and I usually skip over this track.

Prāta Vētra enlisted British producers Alex Silva (on “Colder” and “Plaukstas lieluma pavasaris”) and Steve Lyon (producer on everything else), giving the album a truly professional sound, though it thankfully it’s not overly slick. Silva has worked with bands like Suede, while Lyon has produced for Depeche Mode and others.

Prāta Vētra even got well-known photographer Anton Corbijn to shoot the album cover and booklet art. Corbijn has worked with a long list of musical performers, including Travis, Depeche Mode and Paul Oakenfold.

But besides the pictures and credits, the album booklet has lyrics for just one song, “Kristiānijas suņi.”

Hardcore Latvian music fans might be disappointed that there are fewer songs in Latvian this time. However, don’t let that discourage you, as the songs here are some of the best work these guys have done. Hopefully those who might have been turned off by the slick and keyboard-intensive Kaķēns will give this album a listen, as they will be pleasantly surprised by what awaits them.

Like most reviewers, I tend to recycle material from time to time. Words and phrases get reused, sometimes deliberately, sometimes because I can’t think of anything better to say. Sometimes you want to say something nice about a song you like, but it is hard to put your finger on exactly why you like the song, so you just pick one of a number of stock phrases. I think the word that I am personally most guilty of overusing is “melancholy.”

Once again this word will be overused, this time in reviewing a recording of the instrument that perhaps best expresses melancholy: the cello. This cello is performed by distinguished Latvian artist Māris Villerušs on the exhaustive two compact disc set Spēlē Māris Villerušs.

I first became acquainted with Villerušs through his performance of the Latvian composer Jānis Ivanovs’ “Cello Concerto.” While unfortunately not included in this set, the full cello concerto with Villerušs can be heard on the Campion CD Janis Ivanovs: Orchestral Works, Vol. 2 (Campion Records 2009). Besides being a fan of Ivanovs, the cello performance made me a fan of Villerušs as well. When I saw Spēlē Māris Villerušs at the record store, I had to pick it up.

And I was not disappointed. The set contains approximately two and a half hours of melancholy cello goodness! The recordings focus on the cello in a chamber music setting, with piano or solo cello. They also run the gamut from the baroque (a “Concerto for Cello” by Antonio Vivaldi) to the modern (Latvian composer Maija Einfelde’s “Monologue for Cello and Piano”) to just about everything in between. You can have your pick of Spanish (Isaac Albeniz’s “Malaguena”), French (Gabriel Faure’s “Revival” or Claude Debussy’s “Minstrelsy”), Russian (a few each from Sergei Rachmaninov and Pyotr Il’yich Tchaikovsky, including the full “Sonata for Cello and Piano in G Major” by Rachmaninov and Tchaikovsky’s “Nocturne”). The Latvian representatives on this disc, though few, are Jāzeps Mediņš’ “Maza serenāde” (Little Serenade) and “Ārija” (Aria), as well as the aforementioned Einfelde piece. Villerušs proves himself to be capable of performing pieces from many different composers, over many different genres.

Accompaning Villerušs on piano on most of the recordings is his wife, Inta. One of my favorite tracks is the Karl Maria von Weber “Rondo.” Though short, it shows the cellist’s technical ability, as well as the interplay between the cello and the piano.

The recordings also span many different decades. They are all taken from the immense archives of Latvian Radio, which are full of some of the best performances by Latvian artists. The oldest recordings on the CD date back to 1962. Villerušs’ durability as a performer cannot be questioned—he has been playing now for better than half a century, and is still going strong.

The only orchestral work on the album is the Vivaldi “Cello Concerto.” It is performed with the Latvian Philharmonic Chamber Orchestra, conducted by Tovijs Lifšics. It has been said that when you’ve heard one Vivaldi concerto, you have heard them all. Although many baroque compositions are “simpler” than music that came later, I think that makes them difficult to perform well. Though the melodies might be simple, only the best performers can make the work truly compelling. Starting with the sad and easy melody of the first movement, Villerušs is able to keep your attention throughout the entire concerto.

Another favorite is Mediņš’ “Ārija.” Once again accompanied by his wife, Villerušs is best qualified to performing this beautifully haunting melody.

Villerušs’ biography is provided in the liner notes by Oļģerts Grāvītis. The liner notes also have the dates of recording for each of the pieces.

This expansive collection is highly recommended for any cello fans or any fans of Latvian classical music. It reinforces why the cello is one of my (and many other people’s) favorite instruments. The cello in the hands of the best cello players provides a truly moving experience. Two full CDs of some of the best cello playing by Māris Villerušs—how could you go wrong?