How Regina Spektor's Broadway Residence Redefines The Concert Experience

By Caitlin Wolper


"It's fucking Broadway!" Regina Spektor shouted gleefully, disbelievingly, on the final night of her five-show run at the Lunt-Fontanne Theater last week. Centerstage at the piano, Spektor didn’t look much different than if she was playing an average concert. Although this particular show was anything however average.


Spektor's Broadway residency, which ran in late June, is one among several notable entries in the theater's In House on Broadway series: Past residents have included The Smiths's Morrissey, Mel Brooks, and Yanni. Once because the series was reported in March, the question immediately arose — what does a musician do on Broadway?


The best comparison to a Broadway residency is probably the jukebox musical, which relies on an existing body of music — often pop or rock hits from an individual artist — because the show's soundtrack. The expectations for a jukebox show — like Summer: The Donna Summer Musical, which ran at the Lunt-Fontanne just before their residency series started — are simple: Fans come because they love the music. It's far more likely to be able to see the audience singing along, bopping in their seat, or standing up and dancing at their seats by the final number. And while these musicals don't star the musicians they highlight, the Broadway conventions of story, actors, set design, and costumes remain.


However here, at Regina's outlandish hybrid show, no one really knew how to behave. The woman to my right recorded songs on her phone, which vexed the man to my left. The crowd called out their admissions of love between songs — regular for a Spektor show — however in the sophisticated, chandeliered theater, it came off almost rude. Right following the opening song, Spektor let's know that her keyboardist's partner had given birth that very morning, and led us in an enormous scream in the baby's honor, because as she mentioned, babies enter the world screaming because they already realize how fucked up everything is. It was decidedly more casual than your regular Broadway show.


Still, this setting also gives artists the chance to expand on their repertoire. There's a good reason residencies re given to artists with extensive careers: They can bring an audience, and they're prepared to experiment with their older work. Springsteen on Broadway, which ran at the nearby Walter Kerr Theatre for 14 months between 2017 and 2018, showed the potential longevity of such a concept.


Here, threads in Spektor's became clearer to me than ever before: Primarily, the intense politicism of her lyrics ("They made it past the enemy lines / Just to be enslaved on the assembly lines" in "Blue Lips" or "What an abnormal, peculiar world we stay in / Where the good are damned and the wicked forgiven" in "The Trapper and the Furrier.") Sitting in a theater changed not just how she performed, although how I listened: More intently, sure, nevertheless more analytically, also — I hadn't actually sat at a concert, or been so unbothered by those around me at a concert, in years.


"The first thing that I did was opened up all of the songs — because I have been writing songs for, I don't know, 20 years?" Spektor told Rolling Stone ahead of the residency's run. "A lot of those I played in bars and cafes maybe a few times in my life, and I just didn't ever play them again. I'd like to prepare these little moments in the show that are group kind of like my old New York, on the Lower East Side playing those songs. Thank God for the people who used to come and tape my shows, and put them up on the internet!"


That intimacy lent the residency itself a "special event" excellent. The exclusivity of a limited engagement brought some of Spektor's companions out of the woodwork: Every night, she brought out a visitor, among them Lin-Manuel Miranda and Ben Folds. (Her spouse, Only Son's Jack Dishel, also made an appearance both to play guitar and harmonize on their track "Call Them Brothers.")


Perhaps more notable than the unique visitors were the dancers. While not atypical to a concert, they're typically reserved for Top-40 pop stars, not a solo, seated vocalist-pianist. Spektor employed contemporary and tap for a handful of songs, and the distinction in those songs was enormous. Whenever a dancer came onstage, her focus — which is routinely on the microphone — expanded outward: Her often internal efficiency transformed into a communicative, communal experience. Most importantly, the story of a given song took shape through movement as an alternative opposed to through music and lyrics alone. Even the track dumb Eye Color Generalizations," generally performed a cappella, took on a brand new life as she danced goofily alongside tap dancer Caleb Teicher, whose movement emulated the song's hokiness.


Yet to have a Broadway residency — or to simply perform a concert in this order kind of classical theater space — presents certain qualifications. First, the barrier to entry: The cheapest ticket — "We visualize you from the inexpensive seats!" A fan shouted, referencing Spektor's What We Saw From the Inexpensive Seats album — with fees, came out to $78.45. (For a comparison, a GA ticket to be able to see her at Brooklyn Steel in August cost $59.50.) While for an act like Spektor, this price isn't surprising (she has 20-plus years of experience in back of her), it might be exclusionary if the residency concert model extended to comparatively newer artists.


Another qualification is the genre itself. Spektor's music, once deemed "anti-folk" however right now falling in the genre-free realm of poppy, offbeat, singer-songwriter-pianist, fits neatly with tap and modern dance, and also because the small musical group of strings, keys, and drums in back of her. Her music — notably songs like "All the Rowboats," "Us," and "Aprés Moi" — has an orchestral excellent that felt in place both with the classical dancers and the venue itself.


In most ways, the residency was a glorified concert. The lighting was gorgeous, the sound pristine. Fake snow, a Broadway specialty, fell lightly as Spektor closed the show with love ballad "Samson." In general, the experience was best as soon as the limitations of "concert" were pushed, supplying a hint at what a Broadway concert might look like in the future — an efficiency that recontextualizes the work it performs.