Spektor adds 'Far' to her unique assets
One of the more pleasant surprises of 2006 was the breakthrough of indie singer-songwriter Regina Spektor. Of course, she already had all the trappings of a star: Here was an eccentric piano pounder, blessed with a mercurial voice and a refreshing sense of humor, who wrote evocative songs inspired by the most minute details of her day.
Yet Spektor’s greatest assets - her innate sense of quirk, her refusal to color within the lines - could easily have relegated her to the bin of cult artists with a devoted, but niche, fan base. Instead, Spektor’s sophomore studio album, “Begin to Hope,’’ was a sleeper hit, an assurance that talented artists can crack the mainstream if they find their audience.
It was inevitable that “Far,’’ her follow-up to “Begin to Hope,’’ would be a litmus test of sorts. Would Spektor iron out the wrinkles that made her so lovable, or would she continue to trumpet her idiosyncrasies?
She does both on “Far,’’ which is out today, and it makes a winning case that Spektor is ready for prime time.
Working with four producers (for just 13 songs), Spektor ran the risk of a piecemeal album yet somehow avoided it, mostly because her foundation is the same as it’s always been: stark piano balladry. Except this time she builds on it with subtle ambient effects, snatches of a backing choir, and a willingness to see how others can shape her music.
But no matter how much you dress up her songs - and plenty of these new ones are bigger in sonic scope - Spektor is always the heartbeat behind them. Her signature vocal tics are intact here (she emulates the sound of a dolphin on “Folding Chair’’), and she still writes from the perspective of someone scribbling lyrics in a notebook on the subway, as if we’re not supposed to be privy to her innermost thoughts.
“Far’’ opens on a vibrant note with the loose bounce of “The Calculation’’ and keeps chugging along through “Eet.’’ But then Spektor brings it down on the introspective “Blue Veins,’’ which preserves her barebones essence in a charging arrangement ornamented with chiming guitar, a faint hum of harmonies, and a crisp pop of drums. On “Machine,’’ she peddles plodding, minor-chord Goth pop that would be a perfect fit for her pal Amanda Palmer.
Elsewhere, though, her producers’ fingerprints are too evident. “Wallet,’’ an otherwise breezy slice of life about Spektor finding someone’s billfold and then examining its contents, gets blown out of the water by faux bombast that seems at odds with the song’s small-scale observations.
The song invokes the possible double meaning of the album’s title. Spektor has indeed come far on her latest release, but not so far that you won’t recognize the kooky pop star behind it.
James Reed can be reached at jreed@globe.com. 