Deep Thoughts with Regina Spektor
3.14.17 // DAR Constitution Hall, Washington, D.C.
I’m not trying to be dramatic, but I honestly believe that the universe is trying to keep me from Regina Spektor. Ever since the year of our Lord 2006, when tween Nicole could name more VH1 You Oughta Know: Artists on the Rise than former Presidents of the United States, I’ve had a fascination with Spektor’s eclectic and intelligent lyrics, symbiotic relationship with her piano, and genuinely delightful demeanor, all of which set her apart from her more run-of-the-mill singer-songwriter contemporaries. I eagerly awaited the day that she would schedule a tour stop in Pittsburgh, but six years came and went, and she somehow managed to avoid parking her bus in Western PA. Thus, when Spektor hit the House of Blues in Cleveland during November of 2012, my friend Kelly and I figured this was as close as we were ever going to get; we heeded Horace Greeley’s advice and went west to pursue our own manifest destiny, vis-à-vis Regina Spektor.
It’s been over four years since I breathed the same air as the least problematic Russian contribution to American culture, and the release of Spektor’s latest album, Remember Us to Life, only intensified my need to spend time in her presence again. She announced a 2017 tour in support of said album on Halloween, and by late November, I was #givingthanks that I had snagged a ticket to her D.C. show. March 14th felt like a pretty safe, possibly even ideal, springtime date for a concert, after the chill of winter had begun to dissipate, but before the cherry blossom crowds infiltrated the District. One must remember my lack of favor with the universe, however, which explains why D.C.’s literal only significant snowfall of 2017 was set to occur on this, the most sacred of days.
D.C.’s penchant for drama was confirmed by the fact that there turned out to be minimal snow but maximal chaos; still, goddess bless, the concert was on. After a lengthy commute into the city, a heartbreaking realization that the Chop’t near the concert venue was CLOSED FOR THE BLIZZARD, and a beer by myself in a pizza shop, my feet finally broke ground on DAR Constitution Hall. The security guard at the door stopped me and asked what was in my bag. For future reference, US Weekly, the answer was “dry socks,” and I continued to my seat.
If you thought this was where I’d finally start to describe how Regina Spektor demurely walked out, sat unassumingly at her grand piano in the middle of the stage, and summoned emotions in me that I didn’t know I had, you’d be sadly mistaken. Before this could happen, Rachel Maddow had to announce on Twitter that she’d be revealing Trump’s tax returns on her show that night at 9pm ET. At 8:11pm, I tweeted at Regina asking if we could delay the performance until we had something to celebrate. No response; the show must go on.
As I’m sure you’ll come to learn through future blog posts, the fact that I stan for Regina Spektor is a bit of an anomaly. I typically prefer my musicians to be more tabloid fodder than, well, artists, with the overtones of whatever manufactured drama that they’re currently embroiled in becoming as much a part of the concert experience as the music itself. Spektor, conversely, is all about the music, so much so that she barely spoke a word during the first third of the concert; beginning with light and frothy “On the Radio” and traveling deeper and deeper through her discography, she let her music do the talking. After my initial shock at her lack of spoken commentary had worn off, I literally wrote myself a note that said, “She hasn’t said anything political, but she doesn’t have to.” Her artistry is so deeply an extension of herself, of her beliefs, fears, and musings, that I’m constantly in awe of the fact that she’s comfortable sharing it with us.
Accompanied only by drums, cello, and keyboard, such a hyper-focus on Spektor’s music painted her work, especially Remember Us to Life, in a whole new light. Obviously, the crowd was energized by throwbacks like “Better,” “Sailor Song,” and “Us,” but the less-hyped moments had more of an impact on the narrative that she was begging us to immerse ourselves in. Truthfully, hearing “Older and Taller” and “The Trapper and the Furrier” performed live provided a much more nuanced understanding of how they fit into her overall oeuvre. I’ve certainly listened to the line, “What a strange, strange world we live in / Those who don’t have lose, those who got get given more, more, more, more,” but I don’t think I really heard it until it was echoing around an auditorium in our nation’s capital. That sensation was one that I kept coming back to, no matter which song she was singing; it was like a code that I thought I’d cracked years ago, only to realize that I’d been translating it into the wrong language the entire time.
Despite all my pontificating about her music speaking for itself, there was a tangible giddiness in the air when Spektor left a pregnant pause after a rousing performance of “Après Moi.” Alone on stage, she looked out at the crowd and smiled, allowing herself to briefly bask in the adoration beaming back at her, before addressing us directly. We were reminded that she came to this country as a refugee from the Soviet Union and ended up bringing her immigrant family to the White House when she performed for the Obamas in 2010 (the mere mention of the former First Family brought the crowd to their feet and is making me tear up as I write this right now). Her frustration with the current state of our nation was evident, but instead of being consumed by hopelessness like so many of us (read: me), Spektor simply remarked that she’d recently been thinking about a particularly relevant Stravinsky quote: “Revolution means turning the wheel.” Change requires persistence, endurance, and discipline, and we can’t place the burden of saving the world on our shoulders; what we can do is practice “small acts of openheartedness” to help others, and ourselves, feel less alone. At this, I cried. She then played “Ballad of a Politician” mere blocks away from where the following scene plays out on a daily basis. At this, I wept.
In the end, the 25-song set was a tightly crafted embodiment of the strongest thread running through all of Spektor’s albums: a critical eye trained on the underbelly of the society that we find ourselves in. The mundanities of life seem beautiful and stately from her uniquely sunny perspective, and from her stories we can learn to embrace tragedy, appreciate honesty, and accept inevitability. We’re never bombarded with a condemnation of our shortcomings, as Regina merely shines a light on the bits of humanity that we’d prefer to keep in the shadows; whether we choose to acknowledge and confront the truths that she illuminates is entirely up to us.
Setlist
- On the Radio
- Grand Hotel
- Older and Taller
- Blue Lips
- Tornadoland
- Better
- The Trapper and the Furrier
- The Light
- Après Moi
- Ballad of a Politician
- Silly Eye-Color Generalizations
- Chelsea Hotel No. 2 (Leonard Cohen cover)
- The Feeling
- Bleeding Heart
- Obsolete
- Sailor Song
- You’ve Got Time
- Small Bills
- Flowers
- Black and White
- Don’t Leave Me (Ne Me Quitte Pas)
- Us
- The Visit (Encore)
- Fidelity (Encore)
- Samson (Encore)
