By Erin Brown
Regina Spektor’s aptly named major-label debut, “Soviet Kitsch,” showcases the eclectic/eccentric Russian singer-songwriter’s offbeat yet magical lyrics as it tells stories of divorce, visits from ghosts and even chemotherapy. Each song is like a Russian Matryoshka nesting doll: colorful, intricate, ornate, and complex, all the while keeping you guessing about what’s coming next.
The album starts with “Ode to Divorce,” a harrowing tale of trying to collect, pick up and reassemble the pieces of life after a marital split. Spektor longingly sings, “You’ve eaten something minty/And you’re making that face that I like/And you’re going in in for the kill kill for the killer kiss kiss for the kiss kiss/I need your money/It’ll help me/I need your car and I need your love.” As in most of her tunes, Spektor plays striking piano chords that tug at your heartstrings and make you emotionally invested in each song.
Spektor’s notes are allowed to roam wherever they desire. The track “Us” showcases her talent for voice manipulation. While singing the chorus—“We’re living in a den of thieves/Rummaging for answers in the pages/We’re living in a den of thieves/And its contagious”—she practically hiccups when singing the word “contagious,” emphasizing the “us” in the last part of the word. Her wordplay throughout the album makes it cohesive and enjoyable.
“Soviet Kitsch” is crafted as a movie of sorts, with a clear beginning, middle and end, complete with a climax and resolution. The climax is the wildest song on the album, “Your Honor,” which finds Spektor trying her hand at edgier rock, trading in her piano and subtle music for loud smashing drums and heavy guitars. Though the song packs a surprising punch, it’s still as catchy as her others and it has her usual twisted touch and bizarre lyrics: “Gargle with peroxide/A steak for your eye/But I’m a pizzatarian so it’s a frozen pizza pie/You tell me that you care and you never do lie/And you fight for my honor but I just don’t know why.”
Spektor’s ability to take experiences of human existence, from the painful to the divine, and make them into something beautiful is extraordinary. She covers many societal topics and prods us to think. In “Ghost of Corporate Future,” she talks about a businessman who is visited by a ghost and then decides to change his life, take chances, and live to the fullest. She addresses the need to make the world a better place: “And people are just people/They shouldn’t make you nervous/The world is everlasting/It’s coming and it’s going/If you don’t toss your plastic/The streets won’t be so plastic/And if you kiss somebody then both of you’ll get practice.”
The last two songs bring the album back down to the slow, steady and precise pace that “Ode to Divorce” established at the beginning. The most emotionally jarring track, “Chemo Limo,” opens with the lines, “I had a dream/Crispy crispy Benjamin Franklin came over/And babysat all four of my kids.” The artist’s gentle approach to such a tragic topic is haunting, using personification and striking piano chords to make the listener pay attention and be immersed in the world she is painting. She sternly makes her mark by singing, “I can afford chemo like I couldn’t afford a limo/And on any given day I’d rather ride a limousine.”
“Soviet Kitsch” is an intricate album, with complex lyrics, soaring vocals, and important themes, but it sucks the listener in because Spektor takes unique and unexpected chances. She isn’t afraid to make a fool of herself—a sign of a great and groundbreaking artist.