Web Master I have a confession to make: I am not a die-hard fan of Ani Difranco. I do: own four of her albums, and can sing along to almost all of them, and truly appreciate Ani as a figure repr senting everything that George W. Bush is not. I do not: own an Ani T-shirt, fanatasize about seducing her, closely follow her personal life, or love everything that she produces as a cardinal rule.
This is to say, I have never felt like I fit into the concert-going Ani demographic. The last time I saw her in concert, almost three years ago, I was too hot and got claustrophobic and cranky, wanting only to go home and listen to my Ani albums all by my lonesome.
When I entered the Pageant on Friday night, ticket in hand and jacket left behind for climate control, I would have called myself a concert-Ani-skeptic.
She won me over. It was like falling in love again, for the first time, like on those old people’s Folger’s commercials or something of the like. Maybe it was the venue: the Pageant was sold out, but my concert buddies and I had an adequate ground floor spot with space to breath. Maybe it was the $3 vodka and cranberry juice. Maybe it was the refreshingly mixed yet undoubtedly loyal and liberal crowd; there was lots of kissing, but it never got in the way of the music.
Or maybe it was Ani Difranco, in all her quirky splendor, that put on an outstandingly incredible show. Ani, the indie genius, appeared to have truly mastered the concert. She played the perfect amount of old classics, musical poetry, and new tunes, with a minimal amount of superfluous talk or wasted time.
Although it was a relief to hear some of her oldies such as “Untouchable Face” and “Shameless,” the expanded band and new sound lent them a distinctly new sound. Ani pulled this off grandly though, because the brute and painfully devastating beauty of most of her songs allow them to carry themselves. Come on, who can say their guts aren’t wrenched when Ani bellows the pent up angst of the heart-broken masses, “you’ll look like a photograph of yourself taken from far far away and I won’t know what to do and I won’t know what to do except fuck you and your untouchable face and fuck you for existing in the first place.”
Ani and her band only gave one encore, leaving the crowd satiated but not exhausted: just enough to ensure that we will undoubtedly be hungry for more. Ani Difranco has surpassed the identity of “a girl with a guitar” and has arrived as a true performer, combining true and unique musical talent with attitude and a political message to boot. Bravo.