Regina Spektor – Far

At this point, there’s probably not much point trying to tie Regina Spektor’s career to a strict, straightforward narrative arc. On the surface, hers might seem like a common enough story: The artist cranks out a few cult records in relative obscurity, attracts major label attention with her breakthrough Soviet Kitsch, then steps into the big-time with Begin to Hope, a bigger-budget album that made enough pop concessions to draw in a few new fans but not so many that she lost many of her old ones.

The thing is, nothing’s quite as simple as it first seems with Regina Spektor: Her music has always been pop at heart, and Begin to Hope didn’t reject her quirkier tendencies so much as it smoothed them out a bit. And now, Far muddies things even more; at once the most commercial and accessible album of her career as well as a more sophisticated and deceptive album than Begin to Hope, it’s nothing if not a careful and competent demonstration of how to make a play for the mainstream without selling your soul.

Of course, the great irony of a record like this one is that while it may be Spektor’s most melodically direct and emotionally available, it’s also the toughest one to really fall in love with; where past albums wore their idiosyncrasies on their sleeves, this one lays them out very carefully, sometimes burying them very deliberately within her immaculately-crafted pop. And certainly, Far is nothing if not a sign that Spektor is growing increasingly assured at her craft—she’s never shaped her classical and pop influences into anything as sleek and streamlined at this, nor have her lyrics ever been quite so meticulous and deep.

She enlisted a whopping four producers for this record—David Kahne (Begin to Hope as well as the Strokes), Jacknife Lee (U2 and Weezer), Mike Elizondo (Eminem and kindred spirit Fiona Apple) and Jeff Lynne (ELO and George Harrison)—and while bringing so many cooks into the kitchen is generally a sign of desperation for a hit, blockbuster record, here it plays out as a tip of the hat to Spektor’s own increasing focus on craft. Rather astonishingly, the four different producers are all on the same stylistic page here, to the extent that you don’t know who produced what unless you consult the liner notes.

Indeed, the focus of each man seems to be the same—that is, each of them seems to be intent on helping Spektor smooth out her quirks and oddities and congeal her talents into inviting, accessible pop. Which isn’t to say that she’s abandoned the weird flourishes that have always given her music personality—she’s just learn to work them into the fabric of her music, so that the moment when she starts barking like a dolphin on “Folding Chair” is seamlessly worked into the cadence and whimsical tone of the song; the dark undercurrents of “Machine” are integrated into the arrangement and the melody, not tacked on in post-production; the odd, one-syllable refrain of “Eet” is so catchy and melodic you barely notice how strange it is; and “Laughing With” begins a populist, spiritual anthem in the same manner as Joan Osborne’s “One of Us,” even though its sentiment is so much deeper and more profound. Elsewhere, she proves that she doesn’t need to be weird to be great; “Human of the Year” is simply a terrific composition, written with deadly wit and structured with momentum, and Spektor plays the hell out of it.

Not everyone will hear it this way, of course. Because she’s buried her quirks deeper in the mix than ever before, new fans might find it an easier album to warm up to, while existing fans may need to work harder. Some might even accuse her of selling out, of going bland. I propose, however, that this is not only a reductionist view, but one that dramatically undervalues Spektor’s talents. I’m not sure that someone who writes songs this clever and profound and melodies this complex yet direct could ever make an uninteresting album. At any rate, this one isn’t it: It may be measured and methodical, but that doesn’t mean it’s any less spirited or impulsive. Far is the place where Spektor comes into her own as a pop craftswoman, and as such it’s her most versatile and assured album, as well as one of her richest.

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Tagged as: New York, Pop

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