DiFranco Tosses in Her Two Cents' Worth

By Beth Winegarner

Someone suggested that producing albums is like being pregnant and giving birth--a long, ardent, and creative process which is both painful and rewarding. Each new record bears the undeniable mark of the musicians who bore it into the world. Ani DiFranco's latest, the aptly-named Dilate, is her eighth effort since the 1990 release of her self-titled debut (and a beautiful creation besides). Though DiFranco drags us through some new territory, the self-produced album, as always, wears the markings of the Buffalo-based multitalent who brought it to life.

From the opening track, DiFranco stands her ground as the queen of no-fuss folk. "Untouchable Face" enters like a soft candle in a dark room, the guitars flickering softly as DiFranco sings to a nameless ex-lover, "Tell you the truth I prefer the worst of you/Too bad you had to have a better half/She's not really my type." Despite its cozy feel, the chorus burns: "Fuck you/and your untouchable face," DiFranco croons in her best breathy soprano, subtle but clear as broken glass.

In fact, Dilate finds DiFranco returning to themes of solitude and missed chances. Its second track, "Outta Me, Onto You" is a chilling and furious track with shouts and low growls warning a lover of impending devastation. DiFranco covers everything--from the thrilling, rhythmic guitars to the rolling bass--except the drums are played by Andy Stochansky, who makes every rhythm sound effortless and wily. Stochansky reappears throughout the album, perfectly complementing DiFranco's music, although he doesn't lend his voice to the album (something he did on DiFranco's previous works).

"Superhero" opens with a gorgeous bluegrass ramble which sets the pace for its ambling storyline. "You've been gone exactly two weeks/Two weeks and three days," DiFranco sings, pain and longing evident in her rough, warm voice. "I used to be a superhero...You are like a phone booth that I stumbled into/And now look at me, I am just like everybody else." Her metaphors are clear and striking; love changes us all, turns us into people who can resonate with the top 40 hits and Hallmark cards--and sometimes it's disgusting.

In the title track, DiFranco mirrors her life on the road against her feelings of love for another. The guitars crash and tinkle, like falling into bed from a great height, as she sings, "Life used to be life-like/Now it's more like show biz/I wake up in the night and I don't know where the bathroom is." "Shameless" breaches the subject of adultery in a delightful, romping tune whose main characters are becoming increasingly careless in their love affair.

DiFranco is a master at setting up scenes in her work, melding lyrics and melody together, and "Done Wrong" is a perfect example. It's told from within the haven of a coffeehouse on a cold, rainy New York night; the steel guitar sidles in and shakes off its raincoat, taking its place at the counter beside its acoustic mate; the drums tap their feet on the welcome mat softly. DiFranco's soft voice pleads with a cold lover, "How could you beg me to stay/Reach out your hands and plead/And then pack up your eyes and run away/As soon as I agreed?"

Religion takes its turn on Dilate, emerging first in DiFranco's rendition of "Amazing Grace." Even this most traditional of songs is transformed into something new as she brings in everything from churchbells to hammond organ. The first two verses are conventional; later verses are done in a call-and-response fashion, with a phoned-in voice prompting DiFranco's own vocals. In "Adam and Eve," a woman comes into her own as her lover imagines their relationship as that of God's first couple: "I am truly sorry about all of this/I envy you your ignorance/I hear that it's bliss."

DiFranco reiterates her hearty musical independence on "Napoleon," a song to a more-famous musician who's crossed over to the major labels. "Will you miss your old friends/Once you've proven what you're worth," she wonders. "When you're a big star, will you miss the earth?"

It's this indie spirit which allows DiFranco to move at her own pace, producing albums as quickly as she wishes, touring constantly and remaining in close contact with her listeners. Despite the increase in media interest, she hasn't sacrificed her integrity for something more profitable. In the closing song on Dilate she explains, "Everything I do is judged/And they mostly get it wrong/But oh well... I do it for the joy it brings/Because I am a joyful girl." People don't sell their children, after all--they hold onto them, nurture them and release them as gifts to the world.

This article was originally published in Addicted to Noise.