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 Ani DiFranco is a legend in folk circles. She has a jaw-droppingly large back catalogue of 32 CDs, including bootlegs and EPs, all since 1990. Each one of those CDs is filled with political gripes, feminist calls-to-arms, and personal poems and prose.
Her latest CD (and 20th studio album), Red Letter Year, is just as challenging. It deals with rapid global change, the nature of existence, parental anguish and a mushy love song, but just one.
About to start her Australian tour, DiFranco spoke with Alice Clarke about the importance of songs, being owned by fans and imaginary backlashes.
Ani, have there been any songs you’ve regretted setting loose into the world?
No. I think if I regret anything, it’s maybe dwelling too much on certain subjects at the expense of others. But no – a song is just a song. I don’t hold any of them up to the demands that other people do.
Why do you think so many people hold them so much higher than you do? Shouldn’t your songs be more important to you than to anyone else?
It’s not that they’re not important to me. It’s my life’s work, and I love what I do, and I dedicate... Well, I have dedicated myself to it. Now I’m a mum, so I split that dedication. But I guess the way that I like to interface with life, including with my songs, is with flexibility. A song can make a statement and be of a certain time and place, and it doesn’t need to be eternal or hold up in a court of law. It’s just an expression. I think of all of the songs as almost verses in a long poem of my life, and it’s fluid.
What should be people’s first introduction to Ani DiFranco?
Before Red Letter Year, I put together a compilation record called Canon. It’s got a collection of my songs, from 20 records or something, and it’s very distilled, and very, very incomplete. But that record would be a good jumping-off point, I guess.
So many seem to latch on to you and feel that they own you. How does that make you feel?
I don’t really dwell on it. I’m a pretty private person. When I’m not working, I’m just hanging out with my friends and that doesn’t really intrude on my life. I tell people it’s a good problem to have! In the past it was a little more overwhelming and a little more disturbing to my life. These days the interactions I have with my listeners, even if I’m just walking down the street or sitting in a restaurant – they’re really cool people who say really touching things. I get a lot more support than I do intrusion.
Do you notice any difference that your music has made on the world?
Oooh yeah! It’s hard to quantify or explain in a few sentences, because it varies for each person that has listened to my music and taken something away. All I can tell you is that I get a lot of mail and it’s very heartfelt. My music is very personal and I am very passionate, so I meet people in a very personal and very passionate place. It’s a wonderful thing to get so many letters and meet so many people who say that I helped them become themselves, in a way, or helped get them through something. That’s my gauge of success.
A while back people got really angry with you because you married your boyfriend. How did that rejection make you feel?
That rejection didn’t exist! Nobody got really angry. I’m sure that there was somebody out there that was disillusioned for a minute, and that got written. You know the way media works, especially if some credible news source writes something, then a thousand others will re-write it and it creates reality. I bought it for a long time, too, back in the day. I kept reading everywhere about how disillusioned my dyke fans were and they were jumping ship because I married a man. It was only in retrospect that I realised: I never experienced that! At all! I’m not getting on the internet and reading what every chat group is saying at every moment, but who would want to? It’s all sort ofmeaningless. My experience was full of support: ‘We’re happy you’re happy.’ And if somebody stopped listening to my music because of my heterosexual relationship, that’s cool. They’ll go find somebody else to support, such is the fluidity of art and music.
Do you still consider yourself to be bi?
I’ll say yes. At this point I’m more towards the straight end of the spectrum and I’m in a committed relationship, so sex with only my dear love from now on – which would make me straight in some people’s minds. But I really think of sexuality as a spectrum. It’s not black and white, nothing truly is. I have, in my life, fallen totally, totally for girls. It’s been a while, and my whole life and circumstances changed, but I will always consider myself bi. Because I think everyone is. We’re all changeable creatures, who, in a perfect world without social restrictions, have very free sexuality.
Ani DiFranco Tour Dates
Perth, Freemantle Arts Centre, January 21 & 22
Adelaide, Thebarton Theatre, January 28
Melbourne, Palais Theatre, January 30
Canberra, Canberra Theatre, February 02
Sydney, Enmore Theatre, February 03
Brisbane, The Tivoli, February 04
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