Ani DiFranco and Me

I clearly remember the first time I saw Ani DiFranco's face: it was on the cover of her debut album, "Ani DiFranco," one of many on a shelf at my college radio station. At first, I mistook her for Sinead O'Connor, who was then also a shaved-headed, in-your-face alterna-girl with a"'soft when needed" singing voice. Ani also had that look of dissonance about her. She intrigued me.

I followed her career and looked forward to her subsequent album releases. Her personal reputation was also a draw: she claimed to be bisexual, which pleased some fans and angered others, and she became proactive about being environmentally conscious. She won awards for her feminist contributions to society, like the Woman of Courage Award from the National Organization for Women.

My unabashed affair with Ani lasted until 2006. I purchased that year's album, "Reprieve," and found that my interest had waned—her songs had become too familiar, too repetitive. I wondered what happened to the Ani I knew.

But I decided that she deserved another chance when I heard that she would be playing at the Ridgefield Playhouse. Maybe we could rekindle this thing, and I could give her back the benefit of the doubt. After all, she does have a toddler, a husband and a new life in New Orleans, or so the gossip rags said. Maybe her new stuff had evolved from the old, swearing, "I don't care" Ani. Maybe she would surprise me.

Furthering my hope, I was told I would be able to interview her for Patch. I prepared all of the questions I have always wondered: How has having a child affected her career as a musician? How has she evolved as a person since those early days?

The day of the performance, I was informed that Ani canceled all Playhouse interviews. This put me off a bit. It was, after all, her first time playing in the Playhouse's intimate, warm environment. Why would she cancel? Has she become too "fiercely independent," as Rolling Stone once claimed? Is she winding down?

Ani has slowed down a bit, with only 14 appearances scheduled over five-month span. This is not the Ani I loved who was once a relentless, forever-touring performer. Perhaps it's her family life that keeps her away. I would have asked her what was going on if given the chance to do so.

Putting all this aside, I sat down to take in her performance. It was the first time I saw her in 11 years. I was excited and completely open-eared.

What I heard was some of the old Ani coming full circle. Her trash mouth was still there, as well as her ragged appearance.  The highlight for me was a spoken-word piece entitled "Parameters" that she put forth with feeling, trajectory and stance.

But she seemed a bit disheveled and distant. She didn't seem to have a connection to the audience, and she never once offered the title of her songs, except to say that "this is an old and crusty one," or "here's a new one for you." She even dabbled with an old song from the 1930s with an Ani twist to it. But I didn't recognize the song and, as I said, she wasn't very informative. 

This Ani was more withdrawn and cheerless than the one I remembered. Her lyrics certainly remained poetic and oh-so-real, inside out—It's as though everything from her mouth came from the deepest part of her self. But she seemed a little too self absorbed and, well, alone on stage. Her staccato finger picking certainly hasn't lapsed, nor her aliterating, metaphor-filled wordplaying. But this Ani's a remnant of her days gone by, with a touch of "Here's my life now, and that's just how it is."

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