Confession time.
Back in the 90s, I had completely fallen in love with Ani DiFranco based on a single album, Out of Range. If I were to be completely honest, I actually fell in love with her over a single song, The Diner, and I did so while I was sipping over-roasted coffee in some bohemian-styled converted warehouse with the brick walls and exposed support timbers in the Lowertown neighborhood of downtown Saint Paul. I fell hard for her before the song was even over.
My conversation partner had gone off to take a piss, as you are prone to needing to while drinking far too many over-roasted cups of black coffee over an afternoon spent doing largely nothing in a very bohemian manner, chain-smoking cigarettes in a very artistic way in the artist quarter of a revived downtown area.
While he was away, the song was playing over the speakers and the first thing I could think was, holy mother of god’s teeth, what the HELL is this person doing with that guitar, nevermind, don’t tell me I don’t care — I love it.
And, in very unbohemian fashion, I walked up to the gal behind the bar (they weren’t known as baristas yet in Saint Paul), and asked who the heck was on the stereo. She smirked. “Ani DiFranco”, as she handed me the CD. I think I was catching flies with my mouth all slack-jawed in the manner it was slack-jawed. She was greatly amused at my lack of artistic decorum.
I asked for paper and a pen, scribbled down both artist and album. When my companion came back from the can, I made him finish off his coffee so I could pick up a copy. Zero regrets, and I spent the next month falling deeper in love with Ani DiFranco than what was probably healthy, with that album on high rotation at my own coffee shop, where were not bohemian at all, not even bourgeois (being located in a medical building), but we had the all-important titles of being “baristas” when no one else was using that title in the city because I had brought that back with me when I migrated back home from Seattle (where I had trained as a barista).
And while I liked her other albums that I picked up over time, Out of Range was the one I usually played and so I forgot most of the others, even though they are still in my library.
As I was listening to Ren, the other day, I was trying really hard to figure out just what seemed familiar about him. Early David Bowie, perhaps. But then, YouTube did it’s algorithm thing and informed me that Ani DiFranco had an recent release. Yes. He reminded me of Ani. Although, I am sad to say that my love for Ren remains more brotherly and sober than it was (is?) for Ani.
And, while I never quite got over my love affair with Ani (unrequited and reciprocated), I was reminded just why I love her music, even when I might not like the song. You see, like Ren, she isn’t afraid to take risks with her sound and her music. THAT is half of my adoration for her, the other half is that I generally like her music.
[Another poor woman who has my eternal, unwavering love is PJ Harvey, for many of the same reasons, but I’ve gushed enough for one afternoon. Here’s a towel, sorry about the mess.]
The newest album (Unprecedented Sh!t, 2024) has some interesting tunes on it, but I found myself leaning back to New Bible, for the messaging, but also that decision of hers to choose dissonant progressions/effects to sing to through the majority of the song. It takes guts to go against convention like that, and to do so without sounding like you are just doing it to be a rebel.
I think we should have a new bible
One that only has two words
I think we should have a new bible
That just says “Mother Earth”
It won’t be for everyone. I grant you. Hope you enjoy if it is something you can get into.
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