The release of this career-spanning two CD retrospective from the noted American feminist, activist, and sexually ambiguous singer-songwriter is timed to coincide with an October visit to these shores. She’s been releasing an album a year since 1990, and from the very beginning Ani DiFranco has steered her own self-sufficient course across the treacherous waters of the corporate music industry. She’s displayed admirable business nouse by creating Righteous Babe Records and building up a cult following in the US – you’ll hear some of those sisters being overly sycophantic (to my taste anyway) on a few of the live tracks here. Thus free to speak her mind, this collection features political rants, makes pro-choice statements: “I was once escorted through the doors of a clinic / By a man wearing a bullet-proof vest” (Hello Birmingham), highlights racial/economic segregation (Subdivision), and contains eco-warnings: “What a waste of thumbs that are opposable / To make machines that are disposable” (Your Next Bold Move), alongside the odd mention of leather bras. This is a woman who sings of her childhood memories: “I remember the feeling of community brewing, of democracy happening” (Paradigm). Yes, she has a lot to say, she’s forthright, and you’re going to listen Goddammit!

Most often she gushes in a characteristic clipped rhythmic delivery where strident streams of words are rapidly spoken over staccato pluckings at the acoustic guitar – percussively picked and with alternative tunings. Her voice can be as sweet and whispered as Joni Mitchell, or work up to the growl of an Alanis Morrisette, but these facets are in the minority. Songs are generally hung over acoustic riffs in preference to melodies, and there is accomplished but anonymously generic soft-rock backing from her band, progressing to more funky and jazzy outings (both pretty tepid it has to be said) in the less abrasive latter part of her career. Difranco is at her best when she appears to let down her bristling guard to divulge something more emotionally tender. Dilate has punch and a celtic wail, while Grey asks: “What kind of paradise am I looking for?”. Or, occasionally a more overt melody and a hint of joy breaks through (Buildings And Bridges, Little Plastic Castle). Having said that, the best of her tirades (Fuel) is an arresting polemic spat out over moody bass and drums.

To tempt existing fans, this set features five new “re-imaginings of Ani classics” (sic). The question is, what about a new listener like myself? It’s clear it’s not overly accessible stuff, and at times comes across as unrelentingly earnest and right on. Whatever you think of her views, and the lyrics are a big cut above the usual, the music often isn’t strong enough to carry the statements for repeated listening. I had the album lying around for some time and it took some effort to do all of it justice. I never felt impulsively drawn back to it; there was never an “Oh my God” moment like the first time I heard Gillian Welch, for example. Bands can work there way into my affection but singer-songwriters tend to need that defining instant. However much the brain says that there are some good nuggets to be mined here, I’ve got to give the gut reaction the benefit of the doubt. Call me shallow. This would have been a much better single album that a slightly flabby double, which drags it down from the good to the average.
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Links
Ani DiFranco [official site] [myspace]