New Yorkers love their homegrown heroes, and they’re always bound to come out in droves to show their support when said heroes come home for a visit. The crowd was thin at the start of the sold-out show featuring The Rapture and Sydney electro duo The Presets, but it filled up quickly. At one point, it seemed as if the place was empty, and then a while later, I looked up again, and there were people everywhere, not only on the main floor, but all along the balcony as well. From guys in scary latex masks to shrieking droves of groupies, everyone was excited that the boys were back in town.

On the eve of CMJ 2006, this was a pretty no frills sort of show; the flyer at the entrance of the venue read simply, “9:00 - The Presets, 10:00 - The Rapture,” and the evening didn’t stray far from this plan. The biggest surprise of the night was the great opening set by The Presets, who are touring the States with The Rapture to support their 2005 LP Beams, a mostly hit or miss sort of album, though a very enjoyable first effort. In person, however, they’re all business. Singer Julian Hamilton claimed they were there to “warm up the crowd” for the headliner, but they went above and beyond, getting the crowd really into their music. Julian entertained us with spazzy dances and happy banter, while drummer Kimberley Moyes mainly kept a low profile. He sat at his drum kit until the last few numbers and then when he stood, I was amazed at how thin his lower body was in comparison to his broad shoulders. Dude has skinny legs! Chopstick legs! He gave us a few dance moves, too. It’s amazing how awkward guys can make such awesome music. The pair began the set with “Girl (You Chew My Mind Up,” and plowed through most of the better tracks from their album, ending on a brilliant mash-up of “Down Down Down” and “I Go Hard, I Go Home,” the two best songs on Beams. Aside from an overly long and repetitive song in the middle of their set that dragged the energy down somewhat, they were very impressive. They got big cheers when they left the stage, cheers that were well-deserved. They’re definitely a group that needs to be seen live in order to be truly appreciated. Beams doesn’t even hold half the energy that this performance did.

Attending a Regina Spektor concert is like going to a big love-in. Everyone there is guaranteed to be mildly obsessed with her, if not starry-eyed to the point that they hang on her every word. Imagine 90s Tori Amos concerts, before she started making music that could double as Walmart background fluff. Regina is like a lighter, quirkier Tori, still enjoying her first baby steps of stardom, and peering out into the crowd at Town Hall, one could tell she was starry-eyed herself. She quietly sang her opening number and then shied away from the cheering masses, sitting at her piano, where her microphone promptly flopped out of its stand. "Town Hall is soooo snazzy," she remarked, and the audience knew their Regina had arrived; their Regina, which they wouldn't soon let her forget.

The problem with a Regina Spektor concert is the problem that always tends to arise when a very intense and personal songwriter slowly but surely builds an audience while keeping a non-rockstar attitude. I've seen it happen with other bands and solo artists, hence the Tori comparison. A musician such as Regina Spektor, who writes confessional, spiritual, emotionally complex and poetic songs, will inevitably attract people looking for something "deeper" in their choice of music, who feel personal bonds with the artists they enjoy. That is to say, if you're writing songs like Regina's and are consistently as sweet and accessible as Regina, you're going to attract fans who not only want to be your friends, but think they are your friends. Often, fans like this will take their imagined bond and deep attachment to a level where they feel it's absolutely fine, if not necessary, to profess their love to the point that it's disruptive. This was the case at Town Hall, where the audience screamed various words of affection, shouted song requests, sang along loudly to quietly played songs, and generally did not leave Regina alone. Miss Spektor is an understanding woman, of course; she seems to adore her fans right back, and surely knows she'd be nowhere without them. She seemed flattered by calls of "Where have you been all my life?" and song requests. But she's also a woman climbing the ladder of the music industry, and honestly, no matter how many times you demand she play "Hotel Song," she has a setlist and most likely, orders to get through it without huge delays or interruptions.