Welcome readers to the first instalment in our series: Classic dComposer. These are posts from dComposer's first home. Not every post was worth repeating, but full reviews, witty quips, and other items that catch my attention will be posted from time to time.
From September 17, 2007:
Did they love you? They just love what I do, and nobody loves me the way that you do
Ani DiFranco
The
Murat Centre, like so much of Indianapolis, is a hodgepodge with disparate items on top of each other. On their bill this fall is a smattering of uncommonly grouped names:
Frank Caliendo,
Megadeth, and the enchanting (and lez-bionic, even though she’s currently boning a man) Ani DiFranco.
DiFranco is iconic in the world of strong women folk singers, not only garnering musical success, but with business savvy as well (she opted to found her own, women owned and run
record label rather than cater to watered down corporate tastes). Of course, she’s not filling stadiums or selling multi-platinum records with that kind of integrity. Judging from her energy and joy on stage, and the deafening and adoring ovations from the crowd, I’d bet she’s happy with that trade.
The show began with a set by
Melissa Ferrick. Ferrick was a very good choice to warm up the crowd. Her style is similar to DiFranco's, but different enough that no ones ears were tired by the time the headliner took the stage. Ferrick was also a very gracious and grateful opening act, thanking Ani for the opportunity, and acknowledging that DiFranco was, in fact, who we were all there to see. Ferrick’s performance was short, only 6 or 7 songs, and somewhat uniform. She’s a gifted lyricist, using the English language as a percussion section in her one-woman band. Her subject matter was pretty uniform, though, which got old. How many ‘I miss you from the road’ songs can someone hear in one night? In all, though, her voice was gorgeous, her playing was proficient, and her honesty about her role as an opening act, and gratitude for it, allowed her to play that role perfectly.
I’ll be honest, as Ani DiFranco and her band took the stage, I was preparing myself for another 90 minutes of what I had just heard, perhaps with some more attitude. I am far from an Ani-connoisseur, and her music that I’m familiar with is good, but unvaried. My expectations were shattered in short order.
DiFranco offered an evening of music from every shelf in her musical bookcase. Her most recent release,
Canon, is a best-of compilation, stretching back through all of her near 20-year career. And her show was a greatest hits show, which was just fine by her fans. It seemed that every song they began triggered a frantic scream of both recognition and approval from the 1,500 some people in attendance. A mark of honor, and something I was not expecting, is how DiFranco’s sound has drastically evolved over the years, but maintained a unique character. Some songs were sweet, some songs were raging, some songs were folksy, some jazz inspired, and some were flat out rock and roll.
The ensemble that took the stage was non traditional. A drummer; a second percussionist playing vibrophone, Indian tabla, and various electronic effects boxes; an upright bass player who wasn’t afraid to use his bow; and Ani herself playing various guitars in various tunings and configurations. The stand-out songs for this reviewer were two fairly political tunes (as if there’s an Ani DiFranco song that’s NOT political). First, an older song about post 9/11 reconstruction in New York city and the record industry. It was funky, with a quasi-spoken word/slam/rap verse. With the bass and Ani’s slapped-out guitar, this was practically a percussion ensemble piece, with a texture quite interesting and different from her other songs. The crowd absolutely loved this piece, practically interrupting it more than once with cheers (nay, screams) and applause. DiFranco who has probably played more live shows than a presidential candidate in Iowa or New Hampshire, was expert at incorporating these cheers, corralling them into the rhythmic and instrumental breaks, so that not a word or ounce of energy was lost.
The other most outstanding song on Sunday was one of the few new compositions DiFranco performed. As another testament to her evolution as a musician, this song was much more melodically focused. The vocal line was a step above all the other songs she played that night. I’d practically call it virtuosic, which is rare (to say the least) in folk music. As in almost all her music, this music featured lots of crunchy chromatic dissonances: minor seconds, tri-tones, augmented chords, et al. These dissonances, along with her unfolk instrumentation and solo breaks for the vibes, created an atmosphere bordering on experimental jazz at times. And like all good jazz, none of the dissonances were superfluous. Every one of them was generated by an independent, logical and well-written melodic line in her guitar part. As one listened closely to what she was making that instrument do, especially on the two or three songs she performed solo, one couldn’t help but understand that this performer was making some very challenging parts, with bass lines, chords and melodies, look so effortless, you could have mistaken her guitar for a natural-born appendage.
I liked Ani DiFranco before, in the way that I like video games. The few times I’ve played them, they’ve been fun. But I don’t champion them, I don’t own a video game console, and if they disappeared from the face of the earth, I’d be no worse for ware. After her performance Sunday night, I’m thinking of buying a Wii.
