Regina Spektor is having sex with my ears. She is clinging monkey-like to my head and pounding away. And her hallucinogenic choir machine is having even more sex with my ears. Or maybe it's a real choir. Either way, those airy "OOOAAAAHHH" voices are raping me to deaf. I have whiplash from all the musicians slamming my cranium. Strangely, my favorite track, Eet, doesn't have the choir at all. I don't know what an eet is, but I'm sure I'll be disappointed whenever I find out, because the song won't be as whimsical and goofy anymore. But then I'll be re-appointed because I'll probably find out she's singing about something grave and somber, and that will make it ironic.
The heavy subject matter combined with her usual blithe lyrics is also making love to my tender ears. I usually don't care about the words in music, but it's one more positive attribute to make tonight a very special night for my ears.
Genius Next Door was a song I loved ever since I heard it as a recording from a cafe performance. I don't like her singing quite as much on the album version, but the ear sex-crazed choir more than makes up for it.
Laughing With, as songs about God always do, makes my ears feel all repressed and guilty for enjoying their natural urges. It's not as if they had a choice. Regina never asked their permission. But logic has nothing to do with it. My ears feel like filthy whores and they love it.