FEATURE ARTICLE
Dylan and DiFranco: Righteous rage meets righteous babe
by Seth Rogovoy(WILLIAMSTOWN, Mass., July 28, 1997) -- While any Bob Dylan concert is in one sense historic -- given the role Dylan played in singlehandedly transforming rock music from teeny-bopper pop to serious art form -- this Monday's show at Tanglewood harbors even greater historic potential than usual, given the presence of Ani DiFranco on the bill.
While not a full-fledged changing of the guard or passing of the torch - - Dylan is far from over, and is in fact in the midst of a creative and popular resurgence -- the pairing of Dylan and the 26-year-old DiFranco, undoubtedly signed off on by Dylan himself, suggests an endorsement or a recognition by Dylan of DiFranco's ascendance as a spokesperson for her generation. Indeed, DiFranco's is one of the most intriguing, compelling and exciting new voices to come along since Dylan himself was first introduced to audiences as the warm-up act for Joan Baez in the early- '60s.
Does this make DiFranco the new Dylan? Not quite. As history has shown, there can never be a new Dylan, because -- as Greil Marcus explains in his new book, "Invisible Republic: Bob Dylan's Basement Tapes" (Henry Holt) -- Dylan's accomplishments in the 1960s were singular and revolutionary. At his best, he rearranged the jigsaw puzzle of the American imagination using readily available tools and forms in unprecedented ways. Part Beat poet, part folk-outlaw, and part rock 'n' roll singer, Dylan caused a paradigm shift not only in rock but in all of pop culture. Looked at another way, can anyone imagine the now-commonplace, college-level courses in rock music without there having been Bob Dylan?
This isn't to say that DiFranco might not yet prove equally as innovative, original and influential as Dylan. There are already numerous parallels, not the least of which is a genre-bending approach of dizzying impact. DiFranco refers to herself as "The Folksinger," in spite of the fact that her music is infused with punk-like energy and most recently owes as much to funk and hip-hop as to folk.
But like Dylan, who in the '90s continues to record and release solo acoustic albums of old, obscure folk songs, it is DiFranco's allegiance to the folk tradition -- the real one, the one of storyteller and political activist Utah Phillips, with whom DiFranco recorded "The Past Didn't Go Anywhere" last year, and NOT the so-called folk music made by the corporate, confessional singer-songwriters of the 1970s -- that sets her apart from other high-minded, creative pop acts. Or as Village Voice rock critic Robert Christgau recently wrote, sounding a lot like Greil Marcus on Dylan, "DiFranco opens up a secret subcultural life -- in her case, one in which the old folk and punk idealism enjoy genuine fusion."
Marcus strongly makes the case that the watershed event in Dylan's career was his fateful and infamous performance at the Newport Folk Festival in July 1965. Indeed, he begins his book there, where Dylan caused an uproar by taking the stage with a five-piece electric band, thereby -- in a sort of shot heard round the world -- declaring the end of one era and the beginning of the next.
For the next year Dylan toured the world, backed by a scraggly outfit called the Hawks -- later the Band -- making the most dangerous-sounding rock music ever, before or since. Listening to unofficial recordings of those concerts three decades later (see "Guitars Kissing and the Contemporary Fix," the famous "Judas!" concert of May 17, 1966, in Manchester, England, also known mistakenly as "Royal Albert Hall"), one is shocked to hear how utterly fresh and contemporary they sound, how they still frighten a listener with their intensity, and how pallid by comparison EVERYTHING that has come afterwards sounds. Nothing, not the Rolling Stones, Led Zeppelin, R.E.M., U2, Nirvana nor Nine Inch Nails, comes close to matching the soulfulness or urgency of those recordings.
DiFranco has already experienced her "Newport"-style backlash. Up until last year she was the well-kept secret of a fervent, loyal cadre, comprised in large part of young lesbians and riot-grrl feminists who saw in DiFranco a like-minded champion and role-model.
But then she released "Dilate," which -- in contrast to earlier albums chock full of angry anthems about sexual, corporate and political harassment of women and lesbians -- was chock full of thinly-veiled songs detailing her obsession and relationship with a man. What's more, DiFranco directly anticipated the outrage this would provoke ("We better have a good explanation for all the fun that we had/'Cause they're coming for us, babe, and they are going to be mad"), and instead of her typical acoustic guitar and drums approach, the music was awash with industrial- and hip- hop-style textures.
"Not since Bob Dylan plugged in his electric guitar have a group of fans been so freaked by an artist's evolution," wrote Jonathan van Meter in this month's unusually perceptive cover story in Spin magazine. Needless to say, while DiFranco's new sound and concerns alienated a core group of fans, her lyrical and musical experimentation -- widely greeted as a critical and artistic success -- gained her many more, and she could no longer be stereotyped as a man-hating "bitch." As she told the Eagle last year, "It probably did occur to me at the time that the folk fascists would just get their panties in a twitch, but, whatever...."
When and if it ever comes time to defend herself from cries of "sellout," DiFranco holds all the cards. The ultimate fulfillment of the DIY (do it yourself) punk ethos, DiFranco has sold nearly a million recordings figuratively out of the trunk of her car. Her albums are all self-produced and distributed by her own record company -- the aptly-named Righteous Babe -- which is essentially a well-functioning, super-efficient home office. Along the way, she has turned down countless offers from major labels. Ani DiFranco is, as Robert Christgau wrote, "like nothing the pop world has ever seen."
Neither is Dylan, which is why this month's tour pairing the two -- beginning Sunday in Lincoln, N.H., and making its way through the Northeast, Mid-Atlantic and Midwestern states -- holds so much promise.
There are, however, numerous question marks surrounding the tour. Never mind the fact that in the last two years, Dylan fans have seen some of his best performances since the legendary ones 30 years ago with the Hawks. Try telling that to one of the thousands of fans who sat through indifferent shows like the one at Tanglewood six years ago, unable to decipher a single word he sang, barely able to recognize a single song he sung, so twisted and gnarled were his versions of old classics.
Never mind the fact that Dylan is about to release "Time Out of Mind," his first album of original material in seven years, which reteams him with "Oh Mercy" producer Daniel Lanois. Try mentioning the name "Dylan" to a group of teen-agers, and chances are they will think you're referring to a TV soap-opera character, or Bob's son Jakob, the leader of the Wallflowers, the most popular rock band in America this year.
The biggest question, of course, concerns Dylan's health. Earlier this summer, Dylan was hospitalized with a heart infection, causing the cancellation of a European tour. While he reportedly responded well to antibiotics, it remains to be seen what shape the 56-year-old singer will be in when he takes the stage at Tanglewood on Monday night. In a move that inspires confidence, his record company, Columbia, is apparently so sure of Dylan's total recovery that they are planning to send a camera crew with a satellite link to one of next week's shows, to prove to the world that Dylan is back and as good as ever.
As for DiFranco, there are question marks surrounding her appearance, too. For the last few years she has been headlining her own shows, selling out 3,000-seat theaters in cities like Boston and Albany. It remains to be seen how her intimate, personality-driven shows will go over at larger venues like Tanglewood, especially when a large percentage of the audience isn't familiar with her act and has come to see Dylan, not her.
Also, in just the last few months, DiFranco has gone from cult figure to not-so-reluctant pop star -- she's been featured everywhere from Rolling Stone to Details to Ms. magazine -- and it remains to be seen how the mainstream attention, with its subsequent pressures and inevitable backlash, will affect "Miss Integrity," as she facetiously terms herself.
In the end, of course, what will count is performance. At their best, Dylan and DiFranco are two of our most most creative, literate songwriters and two of our most naturally effective singers -- in sum, two of the most captivating and compelling performing artists of our time. Having their paths cross on the same day, at the same time, at the same place -- and possibly even on the same song, should Dylan invite DiFranco to join him for a duet -- is a rare treat. It might even be a significant cultural moment or watershed. Or as Dylan once sang, "It could even be like a myth."
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Bob Dylan, Ani DiFranco and BR5-49 are at Tanglewood in Lenox on Monday, Aug. 4. Gates open at 4; show starts at 6.
[This article appeared in the Berkshire Eagle on Friday, Aug. 1, 1997. Copyright Seth Rogovoy 1997. All rights reserved.]
Seth Rogovoy
rogovoy@berkshire.net
music news, interviews, reviews, et al.
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