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Aquarian
Weekly 12/10/03
CHANGLING
IN REPOSE
Ani
DiFranco
Beacon Theater 11/22/03
New
York, New York
 Inconspicuously
decked out in soothing earth tones, sans overt stage make-up or
multi-colored locks, and eschewing her trademark platform shoes
for modest flats, the 33-year-old, Ani Difranco cut a mature and
mellowed figure as she deftly patrolled the vast stage of the
Beacon Theater in a stirring solo performance. But that kind of
labeling is too obvious, and wholly capricious in the wake of
DiFranco's ever-present apoplectic gyrations and inspired vocal
dynamics that have made her one of modern folk music's most passionate
creatures for over a decade.
However,
there was definitely something different on this night. Missing
were the chuckling anecdotes from the road or the obligatory brash
political statements that have peppered her most memorable performances
these past years. In its stead was a performer of impeccable,
almost arresting control, polished and musically demure, reflecting
the path of her recent musical forays into jazz voicing and extended
poetic musings.
Included
was a new poem Difranco pulled from her pants pocket and read
with a humble throat-clearing smirk. Each ensuing line revealed
a tortured, haunting manifestation of a woman coming to age in
a furious world of rampant hypocrisy.
DiFranco's
voice, a symphony of range and emotion, was as finely tuned as
I have ever heard it (over a dozen performances with and without
a band) including the historic Carnegie Hall solo shows of 2001
and 2002. This lead to mesmerizing versions of her most compelling
songs, "Swan Dive", "Your Next Bold Move", "Reckoning", "Little
Plastic Castles", the infectious, "Evolve", and the probingly
reflective, "Serpentine". All were unfurled before the wildly
receptive audience as a confession, a revelation or sorts, serious,
humorous, dangerous and silly, and not one with a shred of fanfare.
The
more recent numbers were interspersed with the occasional fan-favorite
like the rhythmically playful, "Shameless", which came with a
humble preamble from DiFranco as if apologizing for it having
been written by an echo of the woman presently dipping into her
grab bag of memories. But
the evening's treat was the premier of newer material that better
observed the finer points of the artist's demeanor; introspective
and plaintive, yet unerringly defiant.
Receiving
an advanced copy of "Educated Guess", DiFranco's latest completely
solo effort, (due out this January) brought into focus the show's
more darkened portals. Fueled by siren odes such as "Origami"
and "Bubble" packed with gripping melancholia like "I know men
are delicate origami creatures, who need women to unfold them
when they cry, but I'm tired of being your savior, and I'm tired
of telling you why" and "I hated to pop the bubble of me and you,
but it only held enough oxygen for a trip or two" further illustrates
DiFranco's in-your-face pathos.
Juxtaposed
with the opening line from the wincing, "Rain Check", "As dolls
go I am broken" or a stanza from the charmingly dissonant, "Swim",
"I let you surround me, I let you drown me out with your din,
and then I learned how to swim" is the fiery hope of DiFranco's
most personally and politically challenging poems, "The True Story
of What Was" and "Grand Canyon". In the former she whispers, "Oh
to dream just for a moment of the picture outside the frame" and
in the latter she swells, "I love my country, by which I mean
I am indebted joyfully to all the people throughout its history
who have fought the government to make right."
The
meditative evening concluded with the rarity of hearing the mature
folk gal's distinctive rendition of "Both Hands", ironically the
first song on her first record. Pulled out for the final encore,
it served as the perfect epilogue to an enviable baring of her
most delicate intimacies.
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