International relevance: **
I dare say there's no other album of Swedish
origin that's quite like this one, for a number of reasons. The most
obvious one is that it's all sung in Latvian.
The three core
members of Dundurs were all born to Latvian refugee parents in the
Stockholm suburb of Hägersten. Their musical history goes back to
1964, when they founded pop group Pagrab
Kratītāji (=”the basement shakers” -- great name!),
which soon transformed into Saules
Brali (= ”the
tramps”). Often performing at Latvian get-togethers in Stockholm,
they also scored public gigs as The Ladykillers and, for a short
while, The Dawn. When Saules
Brali split up in 1968, three of the members formed Dundurs (=”the
horseflies”, a name suggested by singer/guitarist Pāvils
Johansons' mum). The imprint Latvian Music offered them a deal, a
rather unusual move for the label that up until then had been mainly
a mail-order company selling traditional music to other Latvian
exiles around the world. Dundurs' debut album ”Vilcienā” (=”on
the train”) appeared in 1969 in the atypical 10” format, with a
cover shot taken at Stockholm Central Station.
”Vilcienā”
features twelve songs. Only three of them are covers, all of them
translated into Latvian. Bob Dylan's ”This Wheel's On Fire”
appears as ”Kali Deg”, Jefferson Airplane's ”Somebody To
Love”as ”Kādu Pie Sevis”, and – bizarrely enough – The
Ohio Express' bubblegum hit ”Yummy Yummy Yummy” as ”Jumi Jumi”.
The self-penned tracks are surprisingly strong in a melodic garage
vein.
”Vilcienā” was one of Sweden's psychedelic prophet
Patrick ”The Lama” Lundborg's all-time favourite albums. Those
familiar with Lundborg's taste (clearly displayed on his Lysergia
website and in the ”Acid Archives” encyclopedia) know that he had
an affinity for cute incompetence. Dundurs match that penchant,
though it should be said that they weren't at all as amateurish as,
say, Schibbinz or Les
Temps Heureux, two Lama-approved fumbly bunglers.
Although
they had played together in various settings for five years, Dundurs
weren't the most experienced band around, yet they were nowhere near
a trainwreck of a band. ”Vilcienā” isa bit on the under-rehearsed side, but it doesn't detract from the
experience. On the contrary, I'd say it adds to the album's general
feel in the same way it lends a vibe to American garage rock or the
best late 60s/early 70s Swedish Jesus music. It's a thin line between
musical collapse and emotional enrichment, and Dundurs keep on the
right side of that line.
That said, not all songs here are
successful. Side 2 in particular has a couple of ill-advised duds
(”Divatā Ar Sevi” and ”Tu Mani Vairs Nepazīsti”). And
what's lost with "Jumi Jumi" in the covers department is
redeemed by "Kādu Pie Sevis", which has great drive and
some frantic fuzz guitar snake-slithering among the vocal notes.
Speaking of vocals: I enjoy Pāvils Johansons' characterful baritone voice, strong but never overwrought, borderline crooning but never compliant.
The mix is a bit rushed, immature perhaps, and the balance is decidedly off in some places, but that too adds to the sometimes spooky underground feel that makes the album such an alluring listen. I wasn't too enamoured with it to begin with, but the dimly lit psychedelic air pulled me back until it finally revealed itself as the eccentric little gem it in fact is.
Maybe
it was all sheer luck it turned out so well. Dundurs made three more
albums: ”Reiz Agra Rītā Igzājāhm” in 1972, ”Zilais
Karuselis” in 1974, and the last one in 1977, "Dzives Ratins".
The latter was recorded at the behest of the label and consisted
entirely of songs written by Latvian popular music songwriter Alfreds
Vinters. None of them can compete with their debut. The '72 and '74
albums still have their moments, but those are non-defining
exceptions. Most of Dundurs' later output is meek pop, a far cry from
their slightly bewildering, somewhat inscrutable, and ultimately
arresting ”Vilcienā”.
Full album (poor mono rip)

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