Regina Spektor is hardly a small town girl; she was born in Moscow and grew up in the Bronx. Anyhow, you won’t hear her trying to pander to the kind of people who think that having one stop light is somehow a virtue. For her, … Continue reading Small Town Moon
Regina Spektor named her first major label album Soviet Kitsch, way back in 2004, but she’s never leaned into it as heavily as she does here. Not that she needs a gimmick to differentiate herself from all of those other girls with pianos, but she’s … Continue reading Small Bill$
With songs like this one, Regina Spektor sometimes seems like an artist who belongs to a different time. I imagine she would have been quite at home generations ago, the singing sweetheart of 1924, say, and your great-grandmother would have been happy to tune in … Continue reading Sellers of Flowers
It was only a matter of time before Regina Spektor crossed paths with Gogol Bordello. Their aesthetics may seem wildly different, at first glance: Spektor is the classically trained pianist who draws on chanson and Romantic poetry; Gogol Bordello is Gogol Bordello. But there aren’t … Continue reading Seekers & Finders
This is going out to all of my Russian readership. Here is Regina Spektor with a faithful and passionate reading of a classic by the Georgian bard Bulat Okudzhava. Right now, Regina Spektor’s best known piece of work is the theme song for Orange is … Continue reading The Prayer of Francois Villon
With feeling indeed. I was thunderstruck the first time I heard Regina Spektor; I remember thinking I hand’t heard piano pop so perfect since the 70’s. And mind you, piano pop usually doesn’t impress me very much. (You know there’s hardly anything worse than … Continue reading One More Time With Feeling
Ok, about the video. I really love the image of Regina Spektor as a kindly music teacher. It is so very, very something a nice New York Russian Jewish girl would be doing if she wasn’t a pop star. In fact, Spektor’s mother is a … Continue reading On the Radio
Frankly, I did not much care for Regina Spektor’s latest album, What We Saw From the Cheap Seats. Spektor can be a wildly inconsistent artist, capable of producing perfect piano pop songs with just the right touch of quirky, and sometimes just being too, too quirky at the expense of good songcraft, and I though this album was particularly inconsistent. I thought that she had more or less grown out of her early habit of being quirky just for the sake of weirdness, but here the quirkiness is sometimes overwhelming (and I usually love me some good quirk.) After the polish and maturity of Far, it feels like a giant step backwards. I wish that Spektor would focus on her gift for pretty melodies and clever lyrics and quit with the weird throat-singing. But all is not lost. She can still be amazing when she puts her mind to it, and this single is a highlight. It has a heavier (slightly) more dramatic sound than we’re used to from her, and it is exceedingly original and clever lyrically, which is exactly what we want Regina to deliver. Spektor has grown a lot since her slightly flaky first couple of albums, and she’s shown that she can be a top level songsmith. It would be cold to begrudge her her playfulness, even though sometimes it seems to be more fun for her than it is for us.
“I’ve got a perfect body, though sometimes I forget. I’ve got a perfect body, ’cause my eyelashes catch my sweat.”
Charmed by Regina Spektor, who knows how to write a love song that doesn’t say the same words as every other love song.
You’re riding in a car with a guy and this song comes on and he’s singing along with it. Is this good or bad? If he’s your gay bff, it’s awesome. You can sing along together. If he’s a straight dude and it’s, like, your second date and you barely know him, it kind of gives you that queasy this-is-doomed feeling. At least me it does. This is no holds barred my favorite Regina Spektor song, in fact the one that first got me sitting up and wondering who this girl was and should I be checking her out. I love it! But it’s not a song a guy should be singing to his date, especially if he’s only just met her. Because that’s fucking creepy, dude. So any guys out there reading, take note of what I’m telling you here. Singing sappy chick songs to a girl you’re barely acquainted with = major turnoff. This has been a tale from a walk on the wild side. Thankyouverymuch.