Ani Difranco concert review

Even the rain, which had been angrily asserting itself all day, was no match for the one woman folkie army of an Ani Difranco concert at Celebrate Brooklyn in Prospect Park. A benefit concert for the normally free series, the ticket buyers were rewarded with a blissfully rain-free sky, and a set energizing enough to make even the most committed cynics grin and dance and sing along. I stopped listening to Ani Difranco after my freshman year of college out of an unfair combination of snobbery, a declining interest in anything vaguely related to folk music, and the sense that if too many people at smith liked her than I certainly couldn't. Turns out I was just jealous. Live, she's simply a good time, equal parts warm, funny, and profane.
All that time spent singing about not being labeled paid off. Her fan base might cause the casual observer to write her off a one-trick lesbian folkie pony, but as this concert proved, the woman’s got range. She was just as engaging playing "You Had Time" with its slow, plaintive, finger-picked intro as she was with the angrier "Gravel" with its hard charging guitars. You had time is achingly beautiful, a lament from a singer just back from a tour, that was supposed to give her time, time to sort out the relationship. She’s back and tired, and knows it’s all wrong, but she just can’t make up her mind. Even though, as she’s reminded “You Had Time.”
“Gravel” is even closer to the epitome of romantic ambivalence, but instead of soft and lilting, she’s growling. An old lover shows up. Against her better judgment, she invites this person in, and spends the rest of the song trying to figure out whether they can just get on a motorcycle and run away and leave everything behind, even though “you were never a good friend, never a good lay.” So her voice and the drums and the power chords charge on, because “maybe you can keep me from ever being happy/but you’re not gonna stop me from having fun.” This was a particular treat, a deviation from her set list. Even after years and years of touring, she’s still full of surprises. It was a career spanning set, with newer songs leaning toward the acoustic, wistful reflective side. Which while less invigorating than the kiss-offs, she’s certainly earned.
Her voice was another revelation. I used to get annoyed by all the scatting and vocalizing on Dilate, but here she effortlessly switched from a rich, soothing alto to angry growl, always entirely convincing. Some of her angriest songs are sung softly, particularly Napoleon, with its outrage at someone (someones?) who try to be more than their height would suggest. It makes it all the more subtly effective, when this woman with the soothing voice just happens to be cursing you out. In key.
The between song discussion was as funny as ever. She referred to her six month old as "the titty sucker," and welcomed the audience to "Brooklyn Pride, I mean, Celebrate Brooklyn." Noticeably absent was any discussion of who she had the baby with, whether there is a man, a woman, or none of the above in her life. Does it mean she's less famous if no one cares? Or maybe, does it really not matter that much to begin with? That she can still sing politically charged songs whether or not her current life choices match the lyrics? Has the ability to make her audience have a damn good time finally the most important thing?
This particular audience was certainly in love, enough to ignore the conventional boredom stance of many New York concert goers and sing along with 32 Flavors, her ode to the joys of diversity within just one person. We were forced to admit that yes, dancing, is fun. And it shows the performer you have a pulse. It was nice to be at a concert where that was encouraged. I think everyone went home feeling just a little bit lighter that night.