AH AH AH AH AH: Regina Spektor's mouth is full of anomalous voices.

Spektor has classical-trained piano chops. When she sings, she clucks, she gasps, she sucks her teeth before letting loose an “Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah!” It’s as if she had hidden the “little bag of cocaine” she alludes to in “Hotel Song” in her mouth. “Fuck, what’s the next word?” she stammered during “On the Radio.” The crowd cheered for this coquettish, candid moment in her odd opera of distorted and drunken sounds. She also played a turquoise guitar on “Bobbing for Apples,” a song about people next door “fucking to one of my songs.” And she played a chair with a drumstick, irregularly thwacking, making the most of the occasional crack in her voice. After a standing ovation, her encore included “Us,” “Hotel Song,” “Fidelity,” and “Samson.” Spektor was never predictable, and each song outdid the previous. She sighed with her whole body, sang with her whole mouth, and in all of her anomalous voices she captured something like what is hiding under strange, grown-up beds. Finally, she curtseyed.