Face It, Regina Spektor Wows Nokia Crowd
by Jeff PrinceWaiting for Regina Spektor to begin last night's concert at Nokia Theatre made me feel like a 5-year-old kid waiting for Christmas morning. (Okay, an extremely grizzled and hard-drinking 5-year-old kid with a prostate the size of an Idaho potato, to borrow a line from "Last Tango In Paris").
Spektor has fascinated me for a couple of years. She first sneaked into my consciousness while I was sleeping on my couch one night. I literally thought an angel was serenading me in a dream, with lyrics like "I hear in my mind, all of these voices, I hear in my mind all of these words…."
Then I woke up and found Spektor singing "Fidelity" on some late night TV show. I'd never heard of her, but I bought her c.d. Begin To Hope a few days later and dug it.
Since then I've seen Spektor perform on late night talk shows several times and she never fails to blow my socks off. Her vocal range is amazing. She's a mean pianist. Most of all, her compositions are quirky and fun, even the sad songs. She's a total nutjob in a good way.
But one thing was missing from last night's show, and I hadn't realized how important this thing is to her overall impact.
It's her face.
I was sitting back a ways from the stage and I couldn't see that strangely open, ghost-white, big-lipped, Russian seductress face.
Don't get me wrong, Nokia is probably my favorite place to see a live show these days. The seats are comfortable, the auditorium is a cozy size, and the sound system is cooking. I've seen tons of great shows there (Van Morrison, Heart, Leonard Cohen, Los Lonely Boys, etc).
But last night I wanted to be on the front row. I'm not usually a fan of big-screen TVs at concerts. Last night I wanted one.
Spektor's visage is a big part of her magic, at least for me. I was in the minority. Most of the fans seemed rabidly embracing of her no matter how far back they were sitting.
"You're breaking my heart!" one girl screamed from the back section about midway through the concert.
The Moscow-born, New York-raised Spektor was her usual self – gracious but guarded, girly and sweet but profane as well. I could have lived without the opening band, Jupiter One, but they weren't bad. I was just anxious to see Spektor. Problem was, I couldn't see her.
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