Ani DiFranco Concert Review

Chicago Theater, January 17, 2004

By Amber Drea
Published: January 21st, 2004 | 5:00pm

It’s sort of pointless to review an Ani DiFranco show because either you like her music and probably already know how she is live or you don’t like her and don’t care. But despite her return to performing solo after a few years of wandering off into the questionable territory of jazz-influenced jam bands, DiFranco is not the same funk-folk singer-songwriter she was even five years ago. Perhaps it’s the fame, perhaps it’s the head rush of a sold-out crowd directing all their energy toward her without any other musicians to dilute her sense of self-importance, perhaps it’s that she seemed to have a little somethin’-somethin’ before gracing the stage. Whatever the case, a disconnect between DiFranco and her audience became apparent, as if she all of a sudden realized she was facing complete strangers rather than long-time supporters.

DiFranco did deliver the goofy banter one has come to expect from her during the 17-song set, which included three oldies, “Anticipate,” “Shameless,” and “One In a Million,” two spoken-word pieces, and only one encore. However, she seemed to be in her own little world, adhering strictly to her set list and speaking as though she was thinking out loud rather than communicating to other people.

If she wasn’t losing her train of thought mid-sentence, she was laughing sarcastically at the audience’s behavior, which ranged from shouting out song requests to expressing their adoration, none relatively excessive or blatantly rude. It was more than just her usual spunky attitude; there was a subtle disdain underlying every sarcastic statement. Most of her comments seemed meant to deflect the disturbingly obsessive nature of her fans.

She considered writing The Ultimate Guide to Stalking, rebuffed professions of love by saying, “That’s nice,” and recounted why she stopped body surfing at her concerts: “I loved it until one day they grabbed me and wouldn’t let go." Actually, in one instance, DiFranco was justified in venting her not-so-veiled complaints when someone whistled at her like a construction worker. She replied: “That’s what folk-singer nightmares are made of, like going to work naked.”

Ironically, that kind of attention is exactly what she’s been trying to avoid these past 14 years. Stand-up comedians make fun of their audience, not singers who wouldn’t be where they are without them.

The rest of her performance consisted of songs from her new album Educated Guess and other more recent recordings with a few never- before-played experiments. As usual, her guitar playing was phenomenal, with all the percussive and passionate finger work she’s known for, spicing things up with a wah-wah pedal here and there. Her newer songs incorporate pulsing bass notes, dissonance, chromatic scales, syncopated time signatures, and multi-modal chord progressions.

Incredibly, the woman can put out an album a year, but still has a shitload to say. Her lyrics continue to be fresh and original, her topics continue to be timeless and relevant. And her voice, though its purity has been replaced with a raspiness over the years, is more versatile than ever. She just opens her mouth and lets go, improvising freely and exhibiting vocal gymnastics.

As if to further discourage anyone who might have the urge to sing along, she changes the rhythms and melodies of more well-known tunes. Or she could just be bored with singing the same songs year after year.

Not only was the show sonically gorgeous, but the visual lighting created an aura of warm mystique and magic. The curved backdrop contrasted the rising billows of smoke, vividly combining green and purple, orange and blue, or red and yellow. During the powerful poem “Grand Canyon,” DiFranco glowed from a vibrant fuchsia light shining down on her.

Singer-songwriter Noe Venable with Todd Sickafoose on upright bass opened. Though she exuded an overtly New Age bohemian vibe, her airy but strong childlike voice and rhythmic guitar playing were mesmerizing. She sings unpredictable melodies that reach into the realms of the spirit world and speak with more emotion than the actual words. Her long hair, her gyrating movements, and the tribal feel of her songs, particularly one called “Feral,” all contribute to her mythical image. It’s surprising that she’s been around since the mid-90s but considers herself “just starting out.”

Although DiFranco lost me with her overly indulgent double disc Revelling And Reckoning, I was still blown away by her technical ability and songwriting talent. She entertained despite her preachy tendencies and made us laugh with her political jokes. But don’t expect an intimate or nostalgic run-down of her greatest hits. This time around, DiFranco is doing it by herself and for herself, so just sit back and listen.