Interviewers invariably pose the question, “What would you say are your weaknesses?”, and then place a gun in your hand and aim it at your foot. The best responses are those that reside in the grey borough separating goofus and gallant. A personal fave is my preference to go it alone, to undertake the role of the solitary soldier who relies on only one man: himself. The role of soloist is commendable, whose productions are pure manifestations of only their talent and whimsy. When they succeed, they earn all the accolades; when they fail, they have no one to blame but themselves. Until the release of her latest album, Far, Regina Spektor subscribed to this approach. Autodidactic by nature, she displayed on her earlier works a desire to explore with her songs, to allow her words and music to wander, to follow their whims fearless of consequence. On 2006’s Begin To Hope, however, the classically trained pianist pulled in the reins to follow a more precise road into the metropolis that is pop music. Gone was the meandering approach, settled were structurally sound, rich meshes of music and lyrics that, on Far, crystallize to become a polished entity of hummable hooks and oblique depictions of life.

The most apparent explanation for the transition is the myriad contributors on this record, not the least of which are the four titans -- Jeff Lynne (The Traveling Wilburys), Mike Elizondo (Dr. Dre, Eminem), David Kahne (The Strokes), and Garret “Jacknife” Lee (R.E.M., Bloc Party) -- summoned to produce the disc. In fact, the biggest compliment one could pay the album is its cohesion despite the rainbow of modus operandis touching down at the soundboard and, as well, in the live room. All four contributed on both sides of the glass, and it shows -- this is a truly collaborative effort. 

That Kahne returns in the wake of his success on Begin To Hope is expected. The reputations of Elizondo, Lee, and Lynne cannot be challenged, especially when you consider their respective arsenals of instrumental prowess in tow. Between the lot of them, the album flies a bit like Woodstock, Snoopy’s bird buddy, as it loops and swirls from sprightly to reflective, from chiming guitar to swelling piano, with her voice gloriously unpredictable, warbling alongside the vocal and instrumental contributions of her guests.

Despite this swelling of sound, Spektor’s vocals will not be denied. Her lyrics and delivery are her most charming virtues, after all. Her innate ability to eschew the broad stroke for the more focused observation still lingers. Consider “Folding Chair”, where summer details represent a relationship as a whole. When she refuses banal sentiment in favour of microscopic analyses of “the moment”, Regina Spektor is, lyrically, at her best.

Conversely, her lyrics are best left ignored when her childlike writing style turns laughable, as evidenced on “Laughing With”. This time Spektor’s song assumes some strange Joan Osbourne pastiche proving that God, excepting a hymn, should never be discussed in popular song. “Laughing With” is the nadir of the album, making Far’s track listing assume the shape of a hammock: two strong ends burdened by a saggy middle.

Still, it’s a pleasurable listen for those who feel the artist hit her stride on Begin To Hope, as this collection of songs would not feel out of place when juxtaposed with its predecessor, despite the earlier disc’s consistency earning it greater praise. If Soviet Kitsch is more your thing, you will tolerate Far but may be more hesitant to follow Regina Spektor on this pop-oriented avenue that has seen her all but abandon her teenage-girl-operettas of yore. Is this a case of artistic evolution or regression? With music this catchy and lyrics this tender, the question is moot.

--Gavin Crisp