Neo-folkie, songwriter, activist, indie mogul and all-round right-on lady, Ani DiFranco stands alone onstage tonight. With just an acoustic guitar strapped neatly over her shoulder she could not be more prepared. DiFranco is one of the leading names at this year’s Celtic Connections festival, yet remains unknown to many. As she prepares to release her 21st record in as many years it seems this recognition is well overdue and much deserved.
Eschewing the dense instrumentation of her most recent studio albums, this stripped-down performance focuses our attention on her truly spectacular voice, fluid guitar-playing and incisive songs; as hilarious as they are moving. Her almost constant touring schedule is broken only by the short intervals when she stays still long enough to make a record. This work-ethic-at-terminal-velocity is apparent in her serene manner while standing alone in front of hundreds of people.
Ani is a born performer; cool and confident, she has that rare ability to make you feel right at home, even in the cavernous ABC. Her voice dips, dives and soars with effortless control, undulating from a breeze to a roar in a graceful arcs that silence the rapt crowd. While she may seduce perfectly effectively on record, in the flesh her incredible talent is brought home to far greater effect.
The songs – accompanied by her particular brand of scatty, frenetic guitar playing – appear simple on the surface, but reveal hidden levels of sophistication as they unravel. Using a matey vocabulary, her lyrics invite you into the role of co-conspirator, a perspective from which it is difficult to avoid relating to her. DiFranco’s songs articulate subtle joys and fears as much as they lay bare truths and injustices so often buried amid cliché. Whether crooning for her “hus…husb….it’s hard to actually say….husb….husb……..partner,” or belting out a protest song – a genre she carries off with aplomb – she is equally affecting. Introducing a new number Ani explains that she decided she had to set aside her usual aspirations of writing something timeless and universal for a moment, and just “Fucking Say It Man!” This she does; tearing apart both BP and the “incredibly fucked-up” American government in a brutal dissection of the bruised, bloated and blackened carcass of New Orleans, her newly-adopted hometown.
Back in the year 1989 (i.e ages ago), Ani established her own label; Righteous Babe Records, prefiguring by some 10 to 15 years the many artists who have done the same as the major labels begin to implode. As a result she has maintained complete creative freedom throughout her career, allowing her music to evolve organically over time. For many years her profile grew by word-of-mouth alone, her records passed around by fans, inspiring hardcore devotees almost from the word go. Glasgow’s own chapter of this righteous cult is out in force this evening and it seems their fervour is entirely justified. Their unwavering support and devotion has allowed her to carve out the little niche in which she has grown so consistently and prolifically. With this in mind it is encouraging to hear her new songs sparkle with as much wit and pathos as any she has written yet. Yet it is really astonishing to watch the audience treat them with the same reverence and concentration as any of the old favourites they are waiting for.
Stepping out onto the street afterwards, that post-gig glow burns a little brighter than usual in the crowd around me. Although there are many adjectives that float around Ani DiFranco – ‘righteous’ (of course), ‘strong,’ ‘angry,’ funny’ – the one on everyone’s lips tonight is ‘uplifting.’ I think I can speak for my fellow punters when I thank Ani for inviting us into those 90 minutes of her life and setting out a vision of a life that is a little more just and inspiring.