My island, where I will sunbathe naked in sultry sun as Not a Pretty Girl whispers with the palms, will indeed be called "Formosa" (Percy 46). "Beautiful" is an apt title for this deserted island Shangri-la. It is also an excellent word to describe Punk-Folk-Rocker Ani DiFranco's music. Shielding me from "the sea's endless, awful rhythm"(Toches 3), her music is beautiful and it is hideous. It is loud and soft, enraged and laughing-- scary and empowering all at once. At times Ani purrs like a voluptuous woman, erotically draped in red over a grand piano; at others her slouch is a mousy youth's, shuffling self-consciously down a crowded school hall. I am that woman and I am that youth. "There's a crowd of people harbored in every person. There's so many roles that we play" (DiFranco). Her lyrics strike a chord withinÐintensely familiar, painfully true. They become transcribed into my brain, and they are no longer hers. She gives them away and I take them eagerly.
Ani DiFranco is an independent soul. She sets a courageous example for all who shun America's materialistic ideal, "anything for fame and fortune." Defying the music world's conventional standards, she offers her music to those who will listen. She is honest and unafraid to speak forthrightly to the world, not caring if her words add "harmony or dissonance." It is a rare individual who would not snatch up a ticket to "fame and fortune" were it placed in their hands. Within the last year, Ani has been approached by every major label in the country (Jaquet 10). She has declined every one to stay with Righteous Babe, her own indie label: They [major labels]don't have anything I want . . . I just don't think that you can say something meaningful within the corporate music structure. And I know that I don't want to be a part of that structure, I don't want to support it, and I want to do everything I can to actively challenge it on a daily basis (Gillen).
Had Ani signed, no doubt her name would be up on the charts with Alanis Morissette, Tori Amos and other female artists who have signed with major labels. But she does not want to be like those artists. She firmly believes that "music has always been a business, obsessed by hits and profits" ("Corporate Rock" 3). Signing would not only be compromising her beliefs, but would also severely disillusion her ardent fans, brutally cheating us of everything we admire that she stands for. To Ani's followers, she is a potent symbol for what we all want: independence, admiration, and the ability to be heard. Her adamant decision to stay with Righteous Babe greatly enhances this symbolic stature. We thoroughly support her wish to escape the processed rock style that so many of today's artists subscribe to.
Rock is judged dead to the extant that the commercial interests, the co-opted music, seem to be in control, not only of the market, but of the music and the fans as well (leaving only a few die-hard fans on the margins, fanning the embers of authentic rock) (Grossberg 103).
Ani strives to raise this "dead rock" from its grave. She does not
relinquish control to "commercial interests." Her fans are those "few
die-hard[s]" who recognize her authenticity, and ardently
support her choice to stay with Righteous Babe.
Many males, and even some women, say that they cannot identify with
DiFranco's music. This feeling stems from the sometimes radical
content of Ani's songs and the fact that she often speaks of feminine
issues that males have trouble identifying with. If Ani's audience
had to be classified, it would generally be composed of young women,
ages 15 to 30. Her lyrics relate everyday triumphs and conflicts that
real people, chiefly women, are experiencing. "You could try to train
me like a pet. You could try to teach be to behave. But I'll tell you
that if I haven't learned it yetÐyou know I ain't gonna sit. I
ain't gonna stay!" (DiFranco) Most though not all of her songs are
about oppression and detrimental relationships with other people. "I
wished Ani could have done the yelling for me during some of my less
pleasant interactions with various evil significant others" (Ramp).
Many women feel the same way. We listen to her caustic, eloquent
words and wonder why our minds couldn't have assembled the same
tirade when we were being abused. Her words reach out to us in our
times of turmoil. When confusion seizes our brains, and we are sure
no has ever felt this pain, Ani's words wrap us in a lulling blanket
of comfort. Her own pain extended, her fans see through her that
others feel as we do.
Lounging in a shadowy room with close friends and DiFranco's music purring in the background, her words are indeed comforting. But her most evocative words, the ones which elicit powerful emotions, she speaks during her live performances. Performing live and extensive touring have greatly helped to give Ani the devout following that she has attracted. She tours constantly, her live performances continually leaving new awestruck fans in their wake: When I first heard Ani DiFranco, her folk-punk style startled me; I'd be humming along to a pleasant ballad, and suddenly it would be punctuated by snarling screams and biting lyrics launched like an accurately-aimed lamp at someone's head . . . . I became a definite fan after seeing Ani in concert (Ramp).
"When I'm on the stage I wanna start a fire or die. That's what I do
to keep it interesting," says Ani DiFranco (Poet). Precisely this
attitude makes Ani the captivating live performer she is. Her petite
stature is a commanding presence, stomping around stage in her famous
high-heeled red boots and attacking her guitar which almost entirely
hides her. Until this year, Ani had never come out with a complete
live recording. "It was the most obvious idea in the world, which is
why I probably didn't think of it until now. I mean, I'm a live
artist. Duh" (Gillen). She is an artist who her fans want to hear
singing live even when they are not at a concert. Living In
Clip is a double CD compilation of live recordings taken
from the past couple years of touring. Ani's interaction with the
crowd on this CD is apparent, and it is a huge hit. "Live albums are
about people touching other people, about intercourse" (Mark 23).
Living In Clip is an excellent example of how live albums
"touch other people."
Even in venues with over 2000 people, Ani's style produces a
familiar, comfortable atmosphere; one you would expect to find if she
sang in the soft darkness of your back porch on a summer's night.
"You think your not worthy. I'd have to say I agree. I'm not worthy
of you, you're not worthy of me" (DiFranco). She speaks to me like I
am her closest friend, exposing herself in a way most artists do not
dare:
I wasn't even all that familiar with her music, and I felt a weird
sort of intimacy. She makes you feel like you have an advocateÐan
icon to take into battle with you, someone who can understand and
verbalize all your frustration (Ramp).
The feeling that Ani is verbalizing her listener's thoughts is common
among her fans. Many fans feel that listening to Ani's music is like
tapping into their own minds. It is difficult to ignore her
"dead-center lyrical voice that so deeply connects with her fans that
they often seem to forget whether the thoughts are DiFranco's or
their's" (Gillen).
Ani's words speak the austere truth about issues many artists
would not dare to touch, as her almost tangible honesty sooths her
appreciative listeners. Her words are "crisp, fresh, real with no
cliches . . . yanking the universal from out of the personal and
putting the moral challenge right in your face. Topical songs the way
Woody Guthrie meant them" (A.D Home Page). In the album Not a
Pretty Girl, she speaks of the anger people perceive in
her. "I am not an angry girl. Though it seems like I've got everyone
fooled. Every time I say something they find hard to hearÐthey
chalk it up to my anger, and never to their own fear" (DiFranco). Ani
has indeed lived a hard lifeÐbut she is not solely the "angry
feminist rocker" that many see her as being. She is simply speaking
the truth about things that many may "find hard to hear." "Cuz every
time I try to hold my tongueÐit slips like a fish from a line.
They say if you want to play, you should learn to play dumb. I guess
I can't bring myself to waste your time" (DiFranco). Says Ani, "my
only goal is to continue to follow my songwriting philosophy: 'Ignore
the facts and tell the truth.'"
Also off the album Not a Pretty Girl, "Tiptoe" is a matchless
example of how DiFranco attacks issues that many artists do not dare
confront. Read as a poem, her mordant words hit the listener like a
sudden slap to the face:
Tip-toeing through the used condoms strewn on the piers off the westside highway sunset behind the skyline of Jersey walking towards the water with a fetus holding court, in my gutÐmy body high-jacked, my tits swollen and sore, the river has more colors at sunset then my sock drawer ever dreamed of, I could wake up screaming sometimes, but I don't. I could step off the end of this pier, but I got shit to do, andan appointment on Tuesday, to shed uninvited blood and tissue, I'll miss you. I say to the water, to the son, or the daughter I thought better of.
When this scathing soliloquy of a woman's battle with abortion has
ended, the listener is left with a strange mixture of feelings.
Embarrassment, sympathy and sadness all enter our minds, and as Ani
earlier advised us, we "take from it what [we] can use and
[move] on." Maybe we move on because her words strike a chord
too close to home, or maybe just because we do not want to face the
controversial content of "Tip-Toe." I listen, consuming the frank
words with both sadness and contentment. I am sad for obvious
reasons; the woman and her troublesome situation could incite
sympathy from most listeners. I am content because Ani does not
"tip-toe" around the issue of abortion. She lays out this dilemma in
her beautifully candid manner, showing me that she is not afraid to
tackle extreme difficulties that women are facing every day.
Ani's lyrics may be the superior aspect of her music, but her unique
voice adds tremendously to the music's overall effect. She can croon
like a fragile old women, howl like a wild animal and whine like a
small child all in the course of one phrase. She uses her voice as an
instrument, and as a weapon. She can hurl words with the force of a
winter stormÐor whisper with the soft intensity of morning sun on
freshly dewed grass. Her unusual voice compliments her honest,
eloquent words and the resulting fusion is an exquisite sonata for
the ears.
Ani DiFranco is making her music in this world, not to achieve fame or to make money, but to inform the world of the injustice and glory that come with being alive. She sings in a language that we understand, but may not be able to speak ourselves. This language is a beautiful meld of triumphs, truths and tribulations, spoken to us in a voice that "sounds like a chain saw that's been marinated in nitroglycerine and honey" (Poet). Ani sings because she is alive, and because she loves to do it. "I can't stop. I'll keep making music until someone makes me stop. I love what I do, and if everything else that goes along with making music went away, I'd still be standing on stage in some dive, singing over the chatter," says DiFranco (Gillen). In her song, Ani fights against a world that has not always been kind to her. Through this fight, her fans see that they are not alone in their own battles. "I believe that we are all, openly or secretly, struggling against one or another kind of nihilism" (Willis 83). Ani struggles openly. The rest of us, well, we just slip along quietly through the blacks and blues of our lives, eagerly ingesting those familiar words that compassionately placate our deepest fears.
Ani DiFranco Home Page. (12 Nov. 1997).
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Gillen, Marilyn. "Righteous Babe and Indie Success Story: Ani DiFranco's Label Rises From the Grass Roots." Billboard 12 Apr. 1997: n. pg.
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Mark, M. "It's Too Late to Stop Now," Stranded: Rock and Roll for a Deserted Island.. Ed. Greil Marcus. 2nd ed. New York: Da Capo Press, 1996.
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Poet, J. "Independent as She Wants to be." Pulse Sept.
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