RIGA - We were smack dab in the middle of those five hot days in May when musician Victor Cailas agreed to speak to me about his life and his music. His views of the music industry didn't leave much to be hopeful about. "We can't actually speak of an industry," Cailas says. "We can't speak of music as business in this country. There are a few people… bands… that make their living, actually eat and live, by doing music. The others 's like myself 's have concerts in clubs [from time to time]. But this isn't enough money to live."
Cailas, who writes and arranges his own material, has a wealth of life experiences to share with his listeners. His life has not been without troubles: as a teenager he was given a one in five chance to survive after a near fatal accident that left him with physical scars but emotional strength. Cailas also struggled with addictions that have now been confronted and overcome.
In celebration of taking his life back from these addictions Cailas is currently working on his first album and is optimistic that if he works hard and surrounds himself with professionals, he will have a future in music ...but probably not here.
"My target is to work in Europe because I don't see a future for me here. It's difficult to find people who want to get beyond amateur [status]. I want to be professional… better than the best… I write and sing in English because I love the language and also because it is marketable in the world."
Cailas is receiving little support from Latvia. His co-writer and business consultant is his brother who currently lives in Cyprus.
A few days later, I met with Rimants Liepins, the managing director of Platforma Records, to ask how challenging it is for a new country with new talent trying to compete in a world that's been doing this for many years now.
"It's extremely difficult and seems to be getting worse each year," Liepins says. "First: it's almost impossible for the recording industry to [function] when you have the black-market actively selling CDs for almost no money and absolutely no real attempt to shut them down. Then we also have the multi-ethnic demands of our population. If a local band is popular within one community but not the other, this cuts the potential market in half."
"How can this be turned around?" I ask. Maybe the bands need motivation to work harder 's you'll get no argument from me on that point 's but without an infrastructure to assist them, how can they do it?
"We need to educate school children in music," Liepins says. "Children need a basic understanding of music to develop their talents. There must be good musical equipment in schools, too… and [meanwhile the current] local musicians need to push themselves to be better. ...The local talent is not good enough to make it in Europe and Latvia is too small to support an industry without marketing its music to Europe."
"But the fact is the industry is suffering everywhere. People aren't buying CDs anymore. They will pay money to see a concert but not buy a CD, even though the price for a CD has stayed the same for years."
"Is there any good news?" I ask.
"Actually there is some reason for optimism," he says. "Ten years ago the international community wasn't interested in Latvia. When we said, 'Hey, we're from Latvia' they turned the other way. But today there's interest. When I say I'm Latvian, producers say, 'Yeah! What's happening in Latvia?' Many, many producers want to [talk]. Maybe because their markets are failing so they're looking elsewhere for talent. Unfortunately we don't have it."
I guess I was expecting something more upbeat from my interviews. As I leave Liepins, Victor Cailas comes to my mind. Cailas, who has fire in his eyes and writes from his heart, has a way to go before joining the international music community, but his music is sensitive and original and more importantly he aspires to be the best. It's unlikely, however, that he will find the support he needs in Latvia, unless things turn around in some dramatic way.
The disenchantment of local musicians, who want to make a career in music but are disappointed by the local support system, is understandable. But the frustration of those trying to create an infrastructure to help musicians turn their dreams into reality is equally understandable.
The kind of passion 's frequently bordering on obsession 's that drives good musicians to become great doesn't appear to be rampant in the Baltics. Most young Latvian musicians take a paint-by-numbers approach to music, looking outward for step-by-step instructions. The concept of searching inward for their uniqueness 's and in the process finding their own passion 's is foreign to most young musicians. Latvians are no exception.
I wonder: is it the music industry's destiny to silently crumble beneath the corrupt fist of the black-market? Will cultural differences here in Latvia deny artists a venue to express their creativity and ultimately deny local people the opportunity to experience their country's culture within music?
You just never know, from one day to the next, what to expect in the Baltics… The weather, fashion, politics are all completely unpredictable. Life here changes from day to day, sometimes from one hour to the next. It's an environment that guarantees rapid change and endless surprises. I love that about Latvia.
If the music industry can be rescued from its current freefall, it will probably be done by artists replacing the (now failing) MTV-cookie-cutter-band-cloning music industry with unique contributions: perhaps music inspired by an ever-changing, exciting, newly independent milieu 's perhaps music created in a country like Latvia… It could happen: you just never know what to expect here.
