Regina Spektor - Begin To Hope

by Adam Anonymous

There's more to the Russian-born New Yorker than incredible cheekbones

""And what of the world's first most beautiful woman? Suffice to say she's going to love Regina Spektor.""

Ladies and gentlemen, the world has a new second most beautiful woman. Don’t be put off by The Strokes connections or even a too-good-to-be-true bohemian image that suggests the kinda girl Leonard Cohen reminisces about in ‘Chelsea Hotel No. 2’. Conveniently, before this turns into some sub-Nuts wank off, ‘Begin To Hope’ also sees her blossom into a brilliant singer-songwriting contender proper.

It’s a defiantly kooky way with melodies and phrases that truly sets Spektor aside from numerous tiresome females of the species who strum away vacuously with woefully insincere emotion, their concurrent pained cumshot-faces in place. And while the Russian-born New Yorker’s striking features – including incredible cheekbones to brighten any morning pillow – don’t exactly damage the picture, it’s her entrapping vocals that really win out, soiling a snow-white voice with quietly filthy references and recollections.

Right from the off she’s tugging gently at hearts with a wicked smile. ‘Fidelity’ opens with the lines “I never loved nobody fully / Always one foot on the ground” – one of the more tangible couplets in an album filled with curious surely-she-didn’t-just-say-that moments – and it kicks off an endearingly coy journey with a woman likely possessing infinitely greater confidence

‘Samson’ contains a tender account of lackadaisical love, all romantic hair cutting and kissing until the morning light, bleeding into first single ‘On The Radio’, a wonderful refraction of a million random thoughts. “On the radio / We heard ‘November Rain’ / The solo’s real long / But it’s a pretty song”. At which point the DJ falls asleep, leaving Guns N Roses’ classic to spin for a second time.

‘That Time’ totters into throwaway memories of “that time when my favourite colours was pink and green” and “that time when I would only read the backs of cereal boxes” then grinds to a crushing halt with the conversation-stopping “remember that time when you OD-ed?” The crassness, somehow, is overcome by the same weird knowing innocence that previously prevailed.

The final act of ‘Begin To Hope’ is similarly bizarre and an appropriately confused exit. ‘Summer In The City’ portrays a lost, lonely girl missing her beau, then turning attentions to drinking with erectionless eunuchs and gawping cleavage on show in the sultry weather. In hiding her longing beneath ridiculous observations, Spektor’s intrigue is only heightened; a riddle without a definitive answer, one Regina herself still seems to be searching for.

And what of the world’s first most beautiful woman? Well, that’d be telling. But suffice to say she’s gonna love Regina Spektor.

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