Framed in orchestral arrangements both lavish and restrained, the tracks on Regina Spektor’s seventh album add depth and nuance to her dynamic songcraft. She’s still given to coy lyrical turns that reveal twists with each verse and choruses that creep skyward, exploding like fireworks. Here, her melodies eschew jubilance for sweeping, theatrical minor keys (“Sellers of Flowers”); she builds turbulent, Fiona Apple-calibre drama with mournful phrases that crest over plangent bass notes (“The Trapper and the Furrier”). The effect is guileless and profoundly gorgeous.