November 17, 2009
Review: Regina Spektor at the Ryman
Music, Humor and More
When a friend offered me a last-minute ticket to see Regina Spektor at the Ryman I jumped at the opportunity. Not because I'm a dyed-in-the-wool fan, although I'd heard a few of Spektor's songs and liked them. But both the artist and the venue have serious buzz going for them, so I wasn't going to miss out on this experience.
I'm certainly glad I went. I'm not sure that will translate into a helpful review, however. In fact, I'm not even sure how one would go about writing a review of Spektor's music. Especially since the girl sure can play -- she's a conservatory-trained pianist and composer who's been practicing for decades. So you really can't critcize her technique (a staple for the reviewer who has nothing else to say). And, as has been said millions of times before, her music defies easy categorization. So basically, you like it or you don't, and no review is going to change that.
It's a testament to Spektor's stage presence that her back (which was what our block of seats saw for most of her performance) could hold our attention so well. To the naked eye, Spektor looked unremarkable, a slightly hunched figure perched on a bench, splaying her sensible-shoe-clad feet. If you couldn't hear anything, it wouldn't have looked like anything to write home about.
But the sounds coming out of this unremarkable tableau were extraordinary. My general impression is that Regina Spektor does whatever the hell she wants, but with a great deal of technical expertise -- which is the best way to do it. Our side of the auditorium could see her hands for most of the performance, and watching them fly across the keys was amazing. Meanwhile she beatboxed, did percussion with one hand while playing with another, sang a capella for a few songs if she felt like it. Technically perfect unpredictablity was the name of the game.
So, as a non-expert, I can only describe her style as what would happen if Joni Mitchell went to Julliard for about ten years. In a foreign country. And also listened to punk. Which is all good, albeit not easily categorized.
In Blink, Malcolm Gladwell writes about the difficulties that truly unique artist can face. Although we all like to think we're open-minded, it's a psychological fact that if your brain can't categorize something it generates an automatically negative response, precisely because the stimulus is challenging to process. You might have noticed that you wrinkle your brow when hear someting unfamiliar. That's because your brain is frantically trying to find a box to put it in.
Spektor's music produces this response, but not for long. That's partially due to the technical expertise, I think, but her touches of humor also help. Many of Spektor's lyrics are quirky enough to make people chuckle. 'I'm in your mouth now... peaking over your molars', runs one verse of 'Ode to Divorce'. This line got everyone in the audience laughing. But since it's a song about breaking up, everyone seemed to feel guilty about laughing (not that Spektor seemed to mind) and hastily clammed up. Odd moments like this were par for the course during the concert. I think it's a good thing that Spektor doesn't take herself too seriously, and her mix of serious and whimsical clearly won over her audience.
Spektor also proved that brevity is the soul of wit. She didn't speak much, mostly thanking the audience warmly after rounds of applause. But when a particularly ardent admirer kept shouting 'I love you, Regina!!!' she stopped him with a mere sound, which I can only describe as somewhere between a breathy 'oooo' and a sighing 'mmmmm'. That seemed to satisfy the shouter and got the entire auditorium laughing out loud.
If I had to pick one word to describe the experience, I'd choose 'novel' -- but not novel in a bad sense (like nouvelle cuisine). No, this is the sort of novelty that's worth getting over the initial cognitive dissonance to listen to. And one thing's for sure: watching her play that piano, you will never, ever be tempted to think 'I could do that!' for even a millisecond.
