WHAT WE SAW FROM THE CHEAP SEATS by Regina Spektor

Regina Spektor has received a lot of acclaim and attention for her unconventional-yet-delightful lyrics, but to the active listener, it is her undeniable technical proficiency on the piano and intimidating compositions that stand out. The queen of baroque-pop/anti-folk produces a complete success of an album with ‘What We Saw From The Cheap Seats’. Even for one as unpredictable as her, the album shocks-and-awes its way through twists and embellishments that would put symphony conductors to shame. The fact that what pieces together bars and bars of arpeggiated minor chords and ballad-like expositions is random gibberish-like morsels of insight and chimes and beat-boxing and cheers (on ‘Oh Marcello’) should turn me off, but God help me, it sounds wonderful, like infant prodigies and idiot savants playing with sound. 


On this record, you have your traditional anti-folk ballads like ‘Patron Saint’ replete with interesting breaks and arrangements of the ilk of John Mayer and lyrics like “Beyond the window-pane lies her patron saint, broken and lame and absolutely insane for learning that true love exists”, and saccharine romantic odes like ‘The Party’ (“You’re like a party somebody threw me, you taste like birthday, you look like new year.”), but you also have Regina Spektor breaking down every accepted formula of modern music and foraying into the random. So, on ‘Small Town Moon’, you have rapid descents down the progression in the middle of verses, cheering hoots and a full-band featuring on the refrain. Regina Spektor clearly has fun on this song. ‘Ballad Of A Politician’ is a dirge, a rant of ominous chords, with a drastic loud-soft dynamic which showcases her ability to evoke urgency and greed where others barely manage love and anger. 


Amidst the circus surfaces ‘Firewood’, a song about survival, a reminder that underneath the projected, almost stupid innocence of Regina Spektor, is a deep, almost tragic mind, capable of coining lines like, “Everyone knows that it’s going to hurt, but at least we’ll get hurt trying”. All in all, it is an intelligent, quirky record with ample shifts and experimentation to interest you, over a solid foundation of well-crafted music. However, what is endearing about Regina Spektor’s music is how much of herself she pours into her music. 


At times that self is painfully pretentious, but most of it is downright adorable, so when I say words cannot express how high I place this record and this woman, I do not mean my expansive vocabulary does not contain the words; I mean apposite words do not exist in any language. So I recommend that you listen to her. Listen to this record. At the absolute least, listen to the reggae-influenced ‘Don’t Leave Me (Ne Me Quitte Pas)’ with its bouncing bass-line, calypso-like melody and that ear-worm of a refrain, “Ne me quitte pas, mon cher, ne me quitte pas!” to consider a unique perspective on streets, love and cities.