This came out in 2005 — or at least that’s when I got it. Here’s what I said about it back then (with some minor editing):
Regina Spektor has come a long way, baby. Literally.
The singer-songwriter was born in Russia, but emigrated to the Bronx with her family when she was nine. Now she’s part of the New York Anti-Folk scene — not that you could tell from her third album (and major-label debut) Soviet Kitsch. Spektor, I am happy to report, isn’t just another amateurish artist sloppily strumming an acoustic guitar and tunelessly intoning campfire ditties about kitties. She’s a classically trained pianist with a charmingly girlish voice, a playfully eclectic approach and a flair for the dramatic. So, on the minimalist, artsy piano ballads that dominate this 11-song offering, she sounds more like a starker Tori Amos or a more refined Fiona Apple than, say, The Moldy Peaches (although she does crank it up a notch on the quirky rocker Your Honor). Or at least that’s how Spektor sounded two years ago, when she released this set independently. Judging by the restless creativity on display here, I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s come a long way since then.
