Such a good «Cik labi»
Review of the Album Cik labi by Andris Buiķis, Aija Vītoliņa, and the Latvian Radio Big Band
From the very first seconds of listening, one immediately notices that this big band sounds distinctly different from what we’re used to hearing. Andris Buiķis possesses a remarkably individual musical language, and it’s clearly evident in this work. The music is harmonically rich, rhythmically vibrant, and filled with beautifully crafted melodies. There’s a lyrical, melodic flow to the Latvian language — wonderfully delivered by Aija Vītoliņa — which blends organically with the harmonic colors, textures, and rhythms of 1980s jazz-rock fusion.
The first thing worth highlighting is that this new work is written in Latvian. Unfortunately, the Latvian jazz audience rarely gets to hear new big band compositions featuring lyrics in our own language, which makes this piece quite unique. The last example that comes to mind is a composition by bassist and composer Jānis Rubiks, written for voice and big band, set to Aspazija’s poetry and performed beautifully by vocalist Beāte Zviedre — if I recall correctly, the piece Mans miers ir beigts (My Peace Is Gone) was even nominated for the Baltic Big Band Composition Contest final. Another great example would be Miķelis Dzenuška’s album Pritonā, which was later rearranged for big band.
In Andris Buiķis’ work, one can hear several layers of musical inspiration — starting with the unmistakable sound of the 1980s, reflected in the choice of drum and rhythm section textures. The guitar riffs and synth harmonies are strongly reminiscent of classic fusion albums by Michael Brecker or Mike Stern. Perhaps that’s why the first comparison that comes to mind is the music of American drummer Louis Cole, whose big band sound is also deeply influenced by the 1980s. Yet, despite these associations, this music is entirely original and deeply rooted in Latvia — especially considering that nothing stylistically similar exists here, except perhaps Dzenuška’s Pritonā program, which unfortunately isn’t performed very often.
This album also carries a special sense of Latvian-ness. I can’t quite explain what gives me that feeling, but in some pieces, I can sense echoes of beloved Latvian folk melodies. Two works stand out in this respect — Vēstule («Letter») and Dveseli Basu Pļavā Gāju («I Went to the Soul’s Low Meadow»). The first seems to contain something from our musical past — perhaps even a subtle early Raimonds Pauls reference, or something in that spirit. Dveseli Basu Pļavā Gāju, on the other hand, sounds almost symphonic — a blend of folk elements and orchestral grandeur. It feels monumental; one could easily imagine it arranged for a larger ensemble with added strings.
The Latvian Radio Big Band has done a superb job bringing this music to life. As I mentioned earlier, the ensemble’s sound colors are noticeably different here. I’m not entirely sure whether that’s due to the excellent mixing and mastering or to Andris Buiķis’ arrangements — but one thing is certain: the album sounds fantastic — thematically consistent, innovative, and fresh. I must also mention the work of Artis Orubs, the big band’s drummer, who plays percussion on this album, accompanying the composer himself on drums. The percussion sounds absolutely stellar.
Overall, the album is beautiful. Truly beautiful. The compositions complement each other, forming a cohesive musical narrative from beginning to end. It must be said, though — this is music that demands attentive listening. It’s not the kind of jazz record you just put on in the background. I recommend listening to it from start to finish to fully experience its colors, its atmosphere, and its musical language.