The Observer, April 7, 2006
Volume XXXVIII, Issue 23
Ani DiFranco's Carnegie Hall rife with emotion
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Like so many people with fierce personalities, Ani DiFranco is a love-her-or-hate-her kind of woman. Known throughout the music world for her unique punky-jazz-folk stylings, ferociously loyal fanbase, and frenetic work pace, DiFranco has released an average of one album a year for the last sixteen years. In 2004, DiFranco and her self-made label, Righteous Babe Records, began releasing a series of "Official Bootlegs" of live shows spanning her entire career. The latest in that series, Carnegie Hall 4.6.02 was released Tuesday, showcasing the best of what has made DiFranco one of the greatest independent artists of her generation.
The Carnegie Hall album was recorded at DiFranco's first show in New York City after Sept. 11, 2001; deeply emotional from the get-go, the album also displays DiFranco's vulnerability. Unlike many live albums, there is minimal distraction; listening to Carnegie Hall, you feel as though you're alone in the front row hearing DiFranco sing just for you – that is, until the crowd bursts with cheers and applause for one of DiFranco's politically-charged jokes.
The pieces on Carnegie Hall range from some of DiFranco's earliest work to several newer works, including the song/poem "Serpentine," a melancholy reflection on the state of everything from politics to the music industry. Like artists such as Phish and Dave Matthews, DiFranco thrives on communicating with her audience; unlike some artists, though, the anecdotes and explanations she offers never feel rehearsed. Before nearly every song on Carnegie Hall, DiFranco offers some insight into the lyrics; after "Gratitude," she reads a perfectly complementary poem, "Detroit Annie," by poet Judy Grahn. While this might have felt contrived at another artist's performance, DiFranco makes the listener feel totally absorbed by the natural flow of her performance. Carnegie Hall also features one of the most moving performances of DiFranco's poem "Self Evident"; every gasp is recorded on the album, as is every angry crescendo and broken whisper. It's no wonder DiFranco picked this performance to be released – clearly emotions ran high that night.
Lest you think DiFranco does nothing but talk on her album, I can happily report that Carnegie Hall includes an excellent variety of music; sometimes the danger with an artist this prolific is that not every song on an album is album-worthy. Fortunately, DiFranco has never been a victim of self-categorization, frequently exploring new sounds and utilizing her agility on the guitar to her advantage – the rapidity of her finger-picking on Carnegie Hall can be almost dizzying at times. My favorite song, by far, was "Angry Anymore" as much for DiFranco's wry introduction as her joyful reinterpretation of one of her classics.
Several times in the first few tracks, DiFranco takes time to make comments about beauty, "the deeper your sadness, the more beautiful everything looks," she says to the audience. Hopefully for fans, DiFranco will continue to create beautiful music to compliment the world's beauty, and its sadness.
