Ani DiFranco at the Hammerstein Ballroom 11/4/00, Photo © 2000 NY Rock, more photos

Ani wrote herself into the annals of women's studies and feminist theory before she was old enough to buy beer. She wrote songs that were so dangerous and so honest and so sexy that she became a cult figure of Rocky Horror stature. She was the voice for women and girls everywhere. And then something happened. She began resenting her fame, abhorring the idea that her fans thought they "knew" her, and she married her sound guy (that made her dyke fans real happy). Ani started losing listeners. When a star means that much to a plebeian, everything that star does is taken personally. It's ridiculous, yes, but it's not shocking. The machine that Ani created was backfiring. She couldn't get out of the way fast enough.

Her last two albums, Up, Up, Up, Up, Up, Up and To the Teeth, were weaker than previous releases. Too many horns, not enough fight. The personal experiences and confessions were usurped by political preaching. Though, for Ani, there was always a micro-thin line between the personal and the political, now one stood out more than the other. The music wasn't as severe or encouraging; Ani's voice sounded tired and fed-up. The fans weren't as obsessed. Someone didn't screw the cap on the bottle of Ani-cola tight enough. The fizz was missing, and people wanted something to make them burp really badly.

Ani DiFranco at the Hammerstein Ballroom 11/4/00, Photo © 2000 NY Rock, more photos

What often gets forgotten or ignored is the fact that artists change. They develop. And sometimes, when a person has spent so much energy conquering a particular period in their life, the last thing they want to do is revisit the battlefield. Regardless, for many, Ani's three shows at the Hammerstein Ballroom from November 3 - 5, 2000, were like a test. The city that made Ani a fighter wanted to see if she still had it.

On November 4, 2000, there were no audible crowd-cries of "Ani, I love you" or "Ani, will you go to the prom with me?" or (the worst) "SEXY," only appreciative but we're-watching-you cheers. Although, one chick did let loose a ripping scream to which Ani replied cautiously, "It's just folk music." The audience sang along, cried their support and embraced the show. Ani was in good spirits, poking fun at herself and her band, and played the guitar as if love itself hung in the balance.

Thank God Ani has that wicked, goofy sense of humor. She can still babble and skitter nonsense and get a hearty laugh from the audience. It's kind of like watching your friend's kid sister spin around in circles until she's dizzy and then walk with one foot in front of the other. You giggle at the moronic sideshow and wait for her to do it again. And she will spin more just because it's fun for her, too.

The worst part of the evening was all the goddamn electoral preaching. "Vote Nader!" was a more common greeting than "Hello." "Please support Nader," was everywhere. And as soon as Ani brought up "Ralph," the house went ape-shit. Yeah, good Ani, you love Nader, you want us to vote for him but didn't you just play Madison Square Garden at a Nader benefit? I was dumbly hoping she left the campaigning there. Like we need more politics shoved down our throats in the middle of the most ass-backwards election of the century .... I bought a ticket for the music.

Onward. Ani's set list was pulled from the past as much as it was from the present. "Diner," "Two Little Girls," "Every State Line," "Crime for Crime," "Coming Up," "Jukebox," "Wish I May" and a couple of new numbers held the audience. Her new songs were like her old songs – poetic insights to human relationships with quirky and brilliant metaphors for love and yearning. That is, the new songs hardly sound new. Like the most unbelievable card trick, you know how it ends but the magic still baffles you. Damn, that girl can write. The best performances of the evening came courtesy of just Ani and her guitar on "Out of Range" and "Loom." That's where the fight came back, where everyone was united under the Ani-umbrella, where we didn't need anyone else in the world because we were the entire world and change was possible. Pass the peace pipe.

The kick-in-the-ass moment came when she sang one of her new songs that began with the lyric, "You must be sick of me by now," or something like that. While I don't think anyone is sick of Ani DiFranco, necessarily, I do think they're looking for the young woman who penned "Both Hands" and who taught them how to be righteous in their own little way.

November 2000

More Ani on NY Rock: Concert Photos: Hammerstein Ballroom, November 4, 2000 Previous Feature Story: Ani DiFranco - Just an Old-fashioned Girl (with Blue Hair)

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