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Issue 47
March /April 2005
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Ani
DiFranco
Knuckle Down
Righteous Babe
www.righteousbabe.com
It is inconceivable that Ani DiFranco is unaware of the political
and cultural environment that currently exists in the United States.
She has never shied away from making her voice heard and putting her
activism where her mouth is. If her Vote Dammit! tour this past fall
was eclipsed by MoveOn.org's Vote For Change lineup, it may have been
because the novelty of watching Bruce Springsteen, Dave Matthews,
John Mellencamp and Bonnie Raitt making explicit political appeals
was news. For DiFranco, on the other hand, it's simply understood
that that's what she does.
Which makes Knuckle Down all the more perplexing. There are
a few feints in the direction of political content, but it's all shadow-play
and wishful thinking. "Minerva" builds its refrain around a borrowing
from "The Star-Spangled Banner," and it's easy enough to read DiFranco's
lyrics as metaphor for the political climate - the intruder in her
bedroom in "Parameters," for instance, and declarations like "I'm
going outside to watch the house burn down/Across the street" - but
that has more to do with the listener's agenda than anything DiFranco's
doing. Even the rebel imagery of "Seeing Eye Dog" is used merely to
describe the effects of love. The one song that seemingly acknowledges
the elephant in the room is "Paradigm," about the birth of her activism,
but it's about the past, not the present or the future. There's nothing
anywhere to suggest that DiFranco intends her lyrics to mean anything
other than what they mean.
All of these complaints are horribly unfair, of course, since they
dismiss Knuckle Down for failing to live up to standards that
its creator never claimed for it. Taken on its own merits, it's simply
a good, if flawed, DiFranco album, with slightly claustrophobic production
(by DiFranco and Joe Henry) that serves songs like the kick-snap "Modulation"
and the gorgeous "Studying Stones" well by hemming in her vocals so
tightly that she has nowhere to go but forward. There's a sense of
structural collapse on a number of tracks, as if the music was getting
away from the singer; the title track pares itself down until it practically
resets itself after the chorus, while "Manhole," "Seeing Eye Dog"
and "Lag Time" have moments when the guitars wander off the map before
turning themselves around to get back into the song.
Throughout Knuckle Down, DiFranco's voice is, as always, her
strongest asset, full of power, subtlety and confidence. Her control
remains impressive, as does her willingness to relinquish it when
it suits the material; two of the most thrilling moments on the album,
during "Manhole" and "Lag Time," come when her voice gives way in
an abandonment of technique in favor of unfettered expression. "Parameters,"
meanwhile, is a pure spoken-word piece that is reliant entirely on
her delivery as a seven-note guitar figure repeats ad infinitum.
Somewhere around its midpoint, though, Knuckle Down hits a
patch of lugubriousness from which it never quite recovers; which
is deadly for a performer whose unbridled energy is one of her defining
characteristics. With the last half of the album primarily given over
to songs that sound like rougher outtakes from Tanya Donelly's Whiskey
Tango Ghosts, the closing "Recoil" comes as a relief, if only
because Ani-on-autopilot is almost like a breath of fresh air by then.
Uneven as it is, Knuckle Down moves DiFranco one step closer
to confirming her status as her generation's Joni Mitchell, with her
restless musical curiosity, her dexterous, jazz-infused voice and
her complete willingness to bare her soul, both obliquely and candidly,
in her songs. But DiFranco's politics have always been deeply engrained
in those soul-baring lyrics, and for whatever reason, at this particular
moment in history, when the issues close to her heart are on the line,
she has released an album that makes it appear like she's napping
on the job.
-Marc Hirsh
Illustration © Lesley Reppeteaux
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Kathleen
Edwards
Back To Me
Zoe / Rounder
www.rounder.com
With all the critical kudos accorded her debut offering, 2003's
Failer, Canadian songstress Kathleen Edwards had the intimidating
job of coming up with an equally arresting follow-up. While its
moody yet defiant attitude allowed Failer to reap the benefits
of a dramatic first impression, Back To Me makes an equally
dynamic impact, despite an approach that sometimes encroaches on
that earlier effort. Fortunately, the similarity doesn't work to
its detriment; Edwards continues to define herself as a potent songwriter
adept at carving indelible characters that voice sentiments laden
with remorse and resignation.
The songs play out to both sides of the emotional divide, from weary,
melancholy ballads ("Pink Emerson Radio," "Old Time Sake," "Away,"
"Copied Keys") to ruggedly tenacious mid-tempo rockers fueled by
dogged determination ("In State," "Back To Me," "Independent Thief,"
"Summer Long," "What Are You Waiting For," "Somewhere Else'). All
bear scrutiny, if for no other reason than to relish her visceral
delivery. "Good Thing" is a typical case in point; with tenderness
and vulnerability, it suggests a sound in which the ache of disappointment
and heartache is all too palpable. Clearly Failer was no
fluke; Edwards is a singularly affecting talent and Back To Me
brings it all back home.
-Lee Zimmerman
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