Recap: Regina Spektor at DAR Constitution Hall

It’s tempting not to take Regina Spektor seriously. Her music can come off as unapologetically poppy and overtly adorable on first listen—and, well, both assessments are somewhat accurate. But at her core, the Soviet-born multi-instrumentalist is a skilled anti-folk songwriter, grounded by classical, blues, and punk influences, idiosyncratic lyrics, and a masterful ear for indie-pop arrangement. After breaking through to mainstream recognition with 2006’s Begin To Hope, Spektor followed suit with her fifth studio album, Far, earlier this year. Spektor brought her charming piano rock to DAR Constitution Hall Wednesday night, equipped with a chamber pop trio, an ever-expanding catalogue, and a wide-eyed, disarming smile.

The show opened with Brooklyn synth-rock outfit Jupiter One. Mingling funky hooks, the pop-friendly vocals of K Ishibashi, and an occasional violin line, the band’s straightforward post-punk was a sufficiently inoffensive warm-up for Spektor’s eager fans. But overall, the set lacked teeth—chugging through simple and sonically familiar tracks without an apparent sense of experimentation. One notable exception was the closer, “Unglued,” which arched from a muted Kooks-y pop song to a multilayered, Animal Collective-esque harmony of loops.

As Spektor worked through the first few lines of “The Calculation,” the bubbly opening track from Far, her luminous vocals struggled to come to life through a shabby amp setup. The new record dominated the first half of the set: By night’s end, Spektor went through 11 of the album’s 13 tracks, nearly in sequence. Spektor maintained her trademark blitheness through the next two songs while showcasing her vocal range—from the powerful soprano crooning of “Eet” to the bizarre mélange of lofty falsettos, smoky bridges, and an eight-bar refrain of dolphin sounds in “Folding Chair.”

Next, Spektor flashed signs of her anti-folk roots with the playfully cathartic “Ode To Divorce” (off of 2004’s Soviet Kitsch), pairing a heart-wrenching story of a lover’s quarrel with a chorus of “I need your car and I need your love / So won't you help a brother out?” She would not return to her pre-Far work until the 10th song in the set, her 2006 breakthrough hit, “On The Radio.” Unsurprisingly, the crowd welcomed the track’s opening violin lines with its first audible uproar.

In the subsequent string of oldie-but-goodies, Spektor treated the crowd to several lesser-known gems—many of which had never made it onto an official release. Unexpected high points of the set included an a cappella version of “Silly Eye-Color Generalizations,” an endearing account of the character implications of iris shades, “Bobbing For Apples,” a delightful ditty with the an addictive chorus (“Someone next door is fucking to one of my songs”), and the toe-tapping country closer “Love, You’re A Whore.” The crowd responded well to Spektor's dark and at times cryptic sense of humor throughout the set—even managing to let out a collective snicker during "That Time," after she brushed over the story of a friend's drug overdose between rants about tangerine diets and cigarette preferences.

Spektor’s accompaniment consisted of a recognizable violinist (K Ishibashi from Jupiter One), a cellist, and a set drummer. The strings added compelling texture to the arrangement, especially for otherwise flat, electro-laden studio tracks like “Machine.” Though the touch of Sgt. Pepper brass that’s sprinkled throughout Far was certainly missed (especially during “Two Birds”), the band managed to fill the hall with rich sound, perfectly accenting Spektor’s vocals.

Despite her power and confidence behind the piano, Spektor’s onstage persona was uncharacteristically meek. She replied to each applause with a mere “Thank you very much,” accompanied by a nervous Bjork-esque giggle and head bob routine. The smile never seemed to leave her face as she bounced around stage from grand piano, to electric synthesizer, to teal Epiphone.

In all the discussion over her quirky personality, less-than-serious lyricism, and status as a figurehead of the ambiguous anti-folk movement, one fact tends to get lost: Regina Spektor is an extraordinary talent. Her musical style, occasionally misrepresented as excessively cute on her recordings, translates to an enthralling, unquestionably sincere live show. Spektor’s control over her instruments—both vocal and otherwise—is worthy of praise, even if she does spend most of her time singing about things like computers made of macaroni pieces.

http://www.avclub.com/dc/articles/regina-spektor-at-dar-constitution-hall,33585/