A view through the telescope, even when up close

Līva Dumpe records her debut album Tālskatis with musicians from Amsterdam

Līva Dumpe’s debut album Tālskatis («Telescope») saw the light of day in the summer of 2024, though the recording session itself had taken place a little more than a year earlier. The compositions featured on the album were written over the past four years, all authored by the vocalist herself. Friends and fellow musicians from her Amsterdam study years join her: Massimo Imperatore (guitar), Omer Govreen (double bass), Ilia Rayskin (drums), and another Latvian representative, Ketija Ringa-Karahona (flute).

The musician explains that the telescope is both a symbol and a very real object—one her grandfather once gifted her. She would take it along on hikes, observing landscapes while enjoying silence and peace. On a philosophical level, the telescope has taught her to view things more broadly and deeply, encouraging her to explore uncharted territories. At the same time, it can also serve as an object to hide behind when needed. The album’s themes weave together nostalgia for her Latvian roots and the emotional spectrum of finding herself in a new environment and community.

Līva Dumpe is not a vocalist who sees the rest of the ensemble merely as an accompanying band. She actively engages with the musicians, seeking out different roles within the ensemble — not consistently placing herself in the spotlight. Notably, Dumpe not only sings on the recording but also plays the keyboard. In an interview with Latvian Radio, she admitted that not all of the pieces are suited for casual background listening. The music and the stories reveal themselves best when one truly immerses in them, devoting full attention, as the musical fabric is rich and detailed.

The album’s title track begins in a completely transparent way, with musical elements layered one by one. At first, we hear only piano chords, followed a few repetitions later by the voice. This time, the lyrics do not follow predictable song logic — there are no verses or choruses. The thought is expressed in two concise sentences that are periodically repeated. In the tracks that follow, the composer finds various ways to surprise the listener, steering the music in unexpected directions.

Since the piece’s thematic material is relatively compact, the composer allows herself time and space to experiment with different arrangements, offering something new with each repetition of the melody. It begins with only voice and piano, later joined by flute and bass doubling the melody, along with an additional vocal layer supporting the lead voice. When all ensemble members finally join in, the listener is rewarded with a harmonious texture in which every musician successfully fulfills their role.

Similar principles of arrangement are evident in the improvisational section, which begins with a transparent duet between guitar and voice, later joined by bass and drums. At this moment, a compliment must be paid to the sound engineer, who highlights these changes in arrangement by seemingly «bringing the vocal closer.» When the flute enters, it joins the vocalist in an effective co-improvisation, the two voices complementing one another without clashing. After the reprise (a return of the opening material, with slight variations), the piece closes with a short guitar coda.

When setting Vizma Belševica’s poem Zieda un cirvja strīdā («The Dispute Between the Flower and the Axe»), the composer paid particular attention to the phonetic qualities of the words as they occur in natural speech. The result is an intriguing sequence of rhythmic and melodic intonations — something that likely would not have emerged had the music been written before the text, or if the words had been forced into more traditional melodic and rhythmic frames. An extended flute improvisation in the middle section enriches the soundscape.

The piece Compromise is built on fragments from an interview with stage artist Eartha Kitt. It was composed a few years ago in collaboration with an Amsterdam pantomime troupe. As with the Belševica setting, Līva Dumpe focused on the realism of speech intonations, exploring how they could be translated into musical language. Active social media users may recall a period when this type of spoken-word transcription was widely popular in viral videos, often provoking hearty laughter. The piece is further enlivened by moments of free improvisation, used in measured doses. A recognizable and essential element is the ostinato introduced at the very beginning, which later reappears throughout the composition, providing a framework for the guitarist’s improvisation.

Some pieces feature musical material so vivid that the text becomes secondary, while in other cases the text is the key that unlocks the full musical idea. Hidden Storm falls into the latter category, with the author addressing the overcoming of painful emotions. In striving to move past difficulties, people often resort to unimaginable — even absurd — actions, though in reality these rarely solve the problem. The lyrics describe a magical potion with bizarre ingredients, seemingly capable of making everything. Musically, Dumpe continues her hallmark use of unusual melodic intonations, speech-like elements, and explorations of unconventional expressive devices.

Although the recorded music was written over several years and individual compositions are separated by longer or shorter spans of time, it is still possible to discern a clear and unifying musical language in Dumpe’s work. Yet one piece stands apart: the Sonata No. 1 in G Major, performed as a duet for piano and flute without rhythm section. This serves as a counterbalance to the album’s dominant realism. Its thematic melody creates a striking contrast between quartal intonations, zigzagging melodic lines, and a lyrical, singing character. In the middle section, the piano maintains a stubborn quarter-note pulse while the flute steps into the foreground with improvised lines that color Dumpe’s chosen harmonies.

The three-movement cycle Fight mini-symphony was composed shortly after the start of the war in Ukraine. Deeply affected by these events, the composer felt compelled to channel her emotions into music, while reflecting on how differently people in her home region and those in the Netherlands — seemingly far from it all — responded. The work follows a traditional three-part logic: outer movements that are lively, playful, and rhythmically charged, and a central section that is lyrical and subdued.

The song «Cocktail Song» had already been released as a single before the album. It is perhaps the calmest and most melodic track on the record, one that listeners could sing along to without much preparation. What’s refreshing is that, even when using a simpler musical language, the composer and ensemble do not lose their identity. Space is still made — though in smaller doses — for rhythmic and intonational complexity. This demonstrates that Dumpe does not complicate her music for its own sake: her artistic choices are deliberate, aiming to depict specific images as vividly and effectively as possible.

Logically, alongside the sonata and mini-symphony, one might expect a rondo. Raisin Rondo provides just that — a short, playful encore, whose character and expressive palette recalls the earlier Fight Dance (the third movement of the mini-symphony).

In her musical language, Līva Dumpe is vivid and versatile. She is unafraid to employ advanced, dissonance-rich harmonies and incorporates free improvisation in judicious measure. She places great importance on text, particularly the intonation of words and the natural rhythms of speech, which on paper can look extremely complex. The musical fabric sometimes grows dense, at other times turns thin and transparent. A spark of experimentation runs throughout, but always within tasteful limits — resulting in a striking and sympathetic musical statement. Much credit must also go to the ensemble musicians, who have successfully brought Dumpe’s musical ideas to life.