Gettin’ Quantum With Regina Spektor

Remember that "What The Bleep Do We Know?" movie a few years ago, where that deaf chick meets that quantum-annoying knowitall basketball-playing kid (who has an inexplicable grasp of quantum mechanics/pseudoscience), and learns that every potential action you do or don't make is a potential portal to an unlimited amount of other worlds where your other "you" is dealing with, or enjoying the consequences of those critical decisions?  Yeah, I thought that was kinda corny, too, but midway through Regina Spektor's sold-out show at the Orpheum on Monday, I got lost in thoughts of quantum mechanics/pseudoscience and internalized laughter.

Why was I having a mushroom flashback rather than enjoying the show?  Good question! 

It could be said that Regina Spektor's lyrics inspire this sort of bizarre self-analysis.  Not only are her songs spattered with oddball stream-of-consciousness ramblings ("The people next door are f$#king to one of my songs", or "Come home, take off my tuna dress", or "He steps right into someone's big fat loogie, and everyone who sees him says "Ew"), she also injects just about every song with a weird little vocal inflection, such as whispering, beatboxing, grunting, or squeezing every possible phonetic out of a single word.  As she made her way through a charming set, with a few brief pauses to stop and thank Vancouver for "a wonderful 16 hours in Canada so far", the peanut gallery/catcalls went from innocent ("Regina!  Wanna come over for dinner?" from a female audience member), to clever ("And maybe stay for breakfast!"-a dude, obviously), to downright straightforward bizarre ("Let's make a baby!!"-some other dude).

Even in the multi-colored lights, everyone in attendance could see the soft-spoken Regina blush.  It was about this time that I got the jackass idea (inspired by the previous comments) to just shout out "    I WANT TO F@#K YOU!!!"  

Bad idea.

Regina demands to know "Who said that?"

The dude behind me (who has been predicting "Fidelity" as the next song for every song throughout her set: you jerk!) points at me.  The dude in front of me, whose seat I have been jamming on with my $10 drumsticks, emblazoned with "Regina Spektor", available at the merch table, also turns around and singles me out.

Crap.

Spektor leaps off the stage (impressive, in her high heels and skirt), and marches up the aisle to my row.

"YOU!  COME HERE!"

I'm terrified.  I'm sure I could kick her ass, but that wouldn't be cool in front of all these people.

I shake my head.  "No way."  I'm shy.

"COME HERE!", she repeats.  The guy behind me pushes the back of my head.  "Go." he whispers malevolently.  I rise, trying not to step on my seat-neighbour's feet.  I fail.  She cries out "OW!"  So does the girl beside her.  And the girl beside her.  And the guy beside her.

Now the lighting guy is in on it.  He shines a spot on me as I make my way to the aisle, arms raised in a "V", like that kid in the Pearl Jam song.  I feel like I've won the mirror opposite of being selected for "The Price Is Right", only I know I am totally screwed and am going to get my ass kicked by someone's whose fury rivals that of Hell.

When I reach the aisle, and a smoldering Regina, she eyes me up and down with a cold, cynical gaze.  I feel fat in these pants.  I should've worn a nicer shirt. I want to run.  The exit's not that far off...

"Hello."  she hisses.  "Say that to my face."

I try to fake it: "Uh....I want to tuck you in..?" 

"SAY IT!!!!" she barks.  The crowd roars.  It's deep and so unhealthy.

"I....forgot what I said."  I stammer. 

"LIAR!!!" she cries.  "YOU SAID....."

She suddenly does a series of backflips down the aisle, landing in perfect position at her massive piano (which she takes on tour), and launches into "Two Birds".  I am off the hook.  Whoa.  That was intense.

For the remainder of her set, Spektor keeps the Orpheum spellbound.  Perhaps the presence of a cello, violin, and drummer keep her focused for the first half of her set, but as the band departs and leaves her to her own whims, the real, unpredictable Regina appears.  With a solo vocal ditty that addresses everyone in the room with lyrics about every eye color and why they shouldn't be trusted, and a couple solo guitar songs ("The Virgin Queen" and "That Time"), she lets loose with the improv "Anti-folk" ditties that showcased the quirky, unpredictable songwriting skills that the audience came to see.  Another highlight was the song "Poor Little Rich Boy", in which she tapped out a rhythm with a drumstick...on a chair, of all things.

After a raucous, five minute applause at the end of the show, Regina returned with the rest of her band to perform her biggest hit, "Fidelity", which features the memorable "glottal stop" chorus that dude behind me had been craving all night.  Weird.

Disclaimer: much of this concert happened in another dimension.  Particularly from the point where "alternate me" bellowed out that inappopriate come-on.  The rest is all true.


So quantum, dude.