Aw, crap, Regina - what happened? When Sire first picked up your indie Soviet Kitsch disc and sent you on the road, you were a piano-mashing anti-folk oddball who thought nothing of cussing out belligerent Strokes fans and hiccupping Tourettic lyrics. But your "official" major-label debut prettily coos "sellout," from the pseudo-Tori glam-shot cover art to the airy-fairy production and flaccid programmed beats courtesy of David Kahne (Cher, Shawn Colvin). As if the synthesized strings and electronic dabbling weren't sad enough, your ascerbic voice has been all but lost in squishy couplets about making things better and needing to "know you." There are still glimmers of the Spektor of yore, as on the simply arranged older track Samson and the bluesy mash note to Billie Holiday, Lady, but the rest? Ditch your label, stat.