Ani DiFranco
Knuckle Down
(Righteous Babe)
Songstress and counter-culture poster-woman Ani DiFranco has built an army of devoted fans who find solace, understanding and camaraderie in her music, and her newest album promises to bring them along for the dynamic ride.
On Knuckle Down, DiFranco allows her creative circle so often occupied by only herself and her guitar to be opened wider, making room to include piano, sumptuous and haunting strings and stand-up bass beats that urge you to dance and tap your feet.
The showmanship of her guitar work and vocal creativity has separated her from many other musicians. DiFranco brought Joe Henry on board to share producing duties, and the case can be made that DiFranco's gamble of opening her creative circle succeeded in an interesting, flavored album that showcases her unquestionable talent while toying with hints and infusions of jazz, blues and soul.
Singing with the turmoil of a failed marriage and the death of her father, DiFranco is dead-serious, wringing with emotion and, with a talented and refined gloss of maturity, turns her emotional lights and darks into an aural landscape for all to hear. While deviating from the slam poetry and do-it-yourself production circles she has recently traveled in, DiFranco's humor, wit and sarcasm still shine through.
Expressing many complex emotions and dead-serious situations, she does not skirt around the gravity of her topics or try to make them cute. Though her lyrics are clever and soulfully written, DiFranco does not mince words, executing with flair on \Modulation"" (""Our blood was just everywhere""), ""Seeing Eye Dog"" (""Like my only job here / is to care and covet you, dear"") and ""Callous"" (""You can't will yourself happy / You can't will your cunt wet""), where she exposes the fallout of her failed marriage.
DiFranco is one of the few artists' artists who has kept an intelligent running discussion on such contentious women's issues as rape, abuse and abortion.
The award for most haunting, fear-inducing track on Knuckle Down goes to ""Parameters,"" with DiFranco talking in an even, steady voice through the terror of having a stranger waiting in her home, proceeding to detail the stark encounter as it unfolds.
The album is full of inward reflections and is surprisingly light on political activism, which from a long-time activist is especially odd since it followed a contentious presidential election.
DiFranco includes ""Paradigm,"" where she looks back to her civic roots expressing the appreciation she has for the early experiences (""Yet I was just a girl in a room full of women / licking stamps and laughing / I remember the feeling of community brewing / of democracy happening""). While the re-election of George Bush may spurn more voluminous future political works from DiFranco, this is not that album.
Knuckle Down is not an album full of the creative leaps characteristic of DiFranco's previous albums. However, it still features an intelligent symposium that makes the jump to being a successful album.
Long-term fans of DiFranco should be enthused by this latest effort, and for those who only remember DiFranco from Little Plastic Castle, Knuckle Down is worth picking up and seeing where she has since traveled.
