Regina Spektor at Sydney Opera House

Brooklyn’s clearly talented Jupiter One opened with the kind of songs you would expect to hear playing over emotional montages in angsty TV dramas, with cello and violin tugging at the heartstrings. A bit bland, their set played out like the soundtrack to a marketing executive’s wet dream.

What a long way Russian-born New Yorker Regina Spektor has come since the days of self-recording her albums in one day and selling them at her shows. Shuffling nervously onto stage and talking shyly between songs about painting her nails, hugging koalas and how she says “thank you” too much, the big question of her two nights at The Opera House was whether she would prove to be too indie for such a grand setting or whether she was now too polished an artist to please fans of her edgier early work. Happily, she was neither, and her set segued perfectly between old and new.

Employing Jupiter One on strings and drums to great effect, Spektor mainly sat at the piano, but occasionally strapped on a guitar or sang unaccompanied as she mixed slow ballads with radio-friendly pop and more experimental stuff. The Opera House’s phenomenally crisp and clear acoustics helped carry forth every nuance of the music, as songs from her latest album like the bouncy Folding Chair went down well, while oldies like Us and Sailor Song were greeted with joy by long-standing fans.

Heartbreaking tender ballad Samson remains one of the best songs of the last ten years and commanded hushed awe from the audience but, on this occasion, the highlight was Apres Moi. For someone so softly spoken, Spektor has a massive vocal range and when she ended the song by belting out couplets in Russian, it was jaw-dropping.

Though, on record, her edges seem to have smoothed a little, live, she was as weird and leftfield as ever, using her vocal as an instrument and singing ditties about how “Someone next door’s fucking to one of my songs.” In taking the step to this next level, Regina Spektor proved that it is possible to make intelligent, beautiful music that is accessible while still remaining daring and oddball. The standing ovation she received was of course deserved. This was an enchanting performance in the perfect setting.

Interview by Rob Townsend.
Read Rob's interview with Regina here.

Regina Spektor - Far

Three long years since her breakthrough long-player, Begin To Hope, Regina Spektor returns with an album that utilises no fewer than four producers. Across the thirteen piano-led tracks, the Russian-born New Yorker uses the production talents of Mike Elizondo, Jacknife Lee, David Kahne and ELO’s Jeff Lynne to fashion a polished continuation of where she left off last time.

Far sees the singer/songwriter accompanied by a full band, and the shimmering production does sometimes send things veering towards the middle of the road, but her unique personality remains strong throughout. Even though there is nothing here to match the best of Begin To Hope, there are still some really strong moments. Playing like a darker (and infinitely better) version of Joan Osborne’s What If God Was One Of Us, the sharp Laughing With stands out. “No-one’s laughing at God when it’s gotten real late and their kid’s not back from the party yet,” she sings.

A possible problem with Far is that it might be too polished for fans of her envelope-pushing earlier work while remaining too quirky for mainstream audiences. However, the inalienable truth is that, regardless of whether she is offering radio-friendly choruses (The Calculation) or doing dolphin impressions (Folding Chair), Spektor is an exceptional storyteller. Her lyrics manage to be everyday and fantastical all at once. Her vivid tales about a lost wallet, religion, a conversation between two birds and the result of a ‘human of the year’ competition are like beautifully intricate paintings. Regina Spektor remains a wonderfully weird treasure, even if her edges seem to be getting smoother.