ANI DIFRANCO: NOT JUST AN ANGRY GIRL

by Seth Rogovoy

WILLIAMSTOWN, Mass. -- April 7, 1996

Last year a virtually unknown pop singer named Alanis Morissette shot to the top of the charts on the strength of her single, "You Oughta Know," a nasty kiss-off to an ex-boyfriend which used graphically explicit language to describe the physical and emotional turmoil in the aftermath of a failed relationship. Morissette's phenomenal success resulted in a near sweep of the recent Grammy Awards ceremony, and she was hailed as the leader in a movement of "angry young women" in pop.

Morissette's success was an irony not entirely lost on the fiery singer-songwriter Ani DiFranco, who has been grabbing listeners' attention for over a decade-and-a-half with her equally explosive and provocative songs. Indeed, Morissette may well have stumbled upon DiFranco's playbook, so similar are some of her best moves.

"Whoever the chick of the moment is, that's who I'm compared to," said DiFranco -- who performs on Sunday night at the Night Shift Cafe in North Adams -- in a recent phone interview from a recording studio in Austin. "It's been this sort of running joke in my life, and the joke may be on me. Last year I was the unknown Liz Phair. Before that I was Sinead O'Connor, and before that I was Tracy Chapman. This year Alanis is the standard for dialogue on my music, which is a bit unfortunate, but I'll survive it, I'm sure."

At age 25, DiFranco has amassed a cult-like following that responds to her independent, outspoken style, often described as "punk-folk" but really owing little to either genre. DiFranco, who has been profiled in Rolling Stone and Spin magazines, is more in synch musically with contemporary acoustic-rock performers such as Beck and G. Love, and she brings to her performance the incendiary energy and attitude of a Henry Rollins.

The Buffalo, N.Y., native had already been playing in bars for six years when she left home at age 15 and began writing songs. She moved to New York City in 1988, and started her own record label, Righteous Babe, which released her first album in 1990. Although she has a small staff working for her now, DiFranco continues to function as CEO of her label, checking in daily with the office by phone when she's on the road.

"The Million You Never Made," a song off last year's "Not a Pretty Girl," summarizes DiFranco's feelings about being her own boss: "You can dangle your carrot but I ain't gonna reach for it, 'cause I need both my hands to play my guitar/No, I don't prefer obscurity, but I'm an idealistic girl/And I wouldn't work for you no matter what you paid."

DiFranco is not just blowing smoke. Her independent success -- nearly a quarter of a million tapes and CDs sold in what is essentially a glorified, do-it-yourself effort -- hasn't gone unnoticed by well-established major and independent labels, from whom she is constantly fending off offers.

"There's masses of interest because when they see something that works they want to buy it and co-opt it and commercialize it and milk it for what it's worth," she said. "People in the industry tell me I'm my own biggest obstacle in my career, that I could be this and that, and I say, `yeah, oh well, I'm happier just struggling.' "

Struggling, after all, is a big part of what DiFranco is about. Her songs tend to be brutally frank narratives of political and emotional battles that don't flinch when describing the uglier side of life.

On "Tiptoe," a track off "Not a Pretty Girl," DiFranco gets inside the mind of a woman contemplating an abortion: "Tiptoeing through the used condoms strewn on the piers....Walking towards the water with a fetus holding court in my gut/My body hijacked, my tits swollen and sore....I could step off the end of this pier but I got shit to do and an appointment on Tuesday to shed uninvited blood and tissue."

DiFranco makes no apologies for her strong opinions. "To be really pissed off and really passionate about things is to me just necessary," she said. "The world is completely fucked, as beautiful as it is, and it seems like if you really care about something you want the best for it."

For the most part DiFranco steers clear of self-righteous preachiness and overt politicizing. She leavens the mix with a hefty dose of self-awareness and even humor. "Maybe you should follow my example and go meet yourself a really nice girl," she sings to a boyfriend worked up over a lesbian liaison, in "Light of Some Kind."

Whereas "Not a Pretty Girl," like her previous efforts, boasted a stripped-down sound featuring mostly DiFranco's acoustic guitar with Andy Stochansky on drums, her eighth recording, "Dilate" -- which is due out on May 21 -- may surprise some listeners with its reliance on electronics -- including electric guitars, synthesizers, keyboards and processed vocals -- and occasional hip-hop rhythms.

"It probably did occur to me at the time I recorded it that the folk fascists would just get their panties in a twitch," she said, "but I was just kind of experimenting and doing what felt right to me at the time."

It is also a much more personal album than those that have come before. While DiFranco hasn't forsaken her sharp political voice -- "Napoleon" skewers those who sell their souls to the music industry and then complain about the poor treatment they receive -- "Dilate" reflects the emotional turmoil she has undergone over the last year.

"My life sort of spirals around different people or thoughts, and every album is just basically eight months in the life," she said. "This year I just felt sort of exposed and open and prone to emotional infection, as it were. It's just me obsessing over a relationship for the first time in my life."

DiFranco is as noted for her dynamic live shows as for her outspoken songs. The years spent cultivating audiences in bars and fans in coffeehouses and nightclubs have taught DiFranco how to connect with a crowd.

"I refuse to accept the audience just being a passive, voyeuristic entity, and me getting up there being the rock star and doing my shtick," said DiFranco, who will be accompanied at the Night Shift by longtime drummer Stochansky and bassist Sara Lee, who has performed with Indigo Girls, B-52s and Gang of Four. "I insist on implicating everyone. It's something I've consciously worked toward creating for a long time, which I think is what if anything makes me a folk singer. It's participatory.

"But this ain't no sit-down, namby-pamby folk show. We're gonna have ourselves a time."

If you would like to purchase any of Ani DiFranco CDs on-line, please click on the SoundStone logo to the right.
(This article originally appeared in the Berkshire Eagle on April 13, 1996. Copyright Seth Rogovoy 1996. All rights reserved.)


Seth Rogovoy
rogovoy@berkshire.net
music news, interviews, reviews, et al.

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