Musical Monday #28

Last week, I described Kate Nash as polarising opinion on the scale of Marmite -- in that one tends to fall into a love or hate category, with very little room for a middle ground. And for the record, I hate Marmite.

It seems, though, that the powers that be in this mysterious and expanding universe have been pointing me towards a MM post on Ani DiFranco. It's long overdue, Ani is one of my favourite artists, but I've struggled whenever I have tried to verbalise what I love about her music. Part of the trouble has been that one of my favourite songs is "You Had Time" -- but I only loved this song after I read Nick Hornby's essay on it in 31 Songs. Unfortunately, his writing was so incredibly good about such an amazing song that I could think of nothing original to add. But on the plus side, he only writes about the song, and not Ms DiFranco's music in general. Unlike this post.

Those of you who know me at all will know that there will often come a time when I start making you compilation CDs.

I still sort of miss making compilation tapes, -- of working out what tracks should open side A and side B, but a CD is far more practical and actually allows for a little more creativity as there can be the option of creating album artwork for the CD. The good thing about making a tape was that there was more space (usually 90 minutes, compared to 80 for a CD) and there was two sides -- so there were various techniques to employ when putting together the tracklisting.

The point is, that making these CDs is more or less a certainty in most contexts that you will know me. Following a recent compilation CD, a friend revealed to me that she didn't really like Ani DiFranco very much. Of course, there is never going to be a compilation where someone likes every single track by every single artist, but I was still surprised. I haven't played Ani to a lot of people -- I know some of my friends like Jon have probably heard her when I've played some in the car or something, but have never expressed any liking for it. I think they were probably just being polite. I started to think that maybe more than Kate Nash, Ani could be an aural equivalent of Marmite.

Then when Mez commented on last week's post that Kate Nash reminded her of Ani DiFranco, I knew this post had to be written.

Ani DiFranco was an artist I probably wouldn't have come into contact with, had it not been for Rie. I don't remember what the first song I heard was, or when it was -- often when Matt was at work on a Saturday, Rie and I would hang out and draw and listen to music or whatever. It would have been one of those random Saturday afternoons with Rie playing old personal compilation tapes that I would have heard Ani, and so these two women will always be linked. It's odd, because Rie was a huge fan of Tori Amos, but I have never got into her music.

I think first and foremost for me, Ani is a poet -- she is reminiscent of the poetry slams I used to go to in Utah coffee shops, something I had never experienced in the back rooms of pubs in Derby where we used to read our poems. I enjoy the pictures she paints with her words, the stories she tells with her songs -- the complex and imperfect relationships she describes.

One of my favourite songs is Gravel, where the protagonist of the song wants to be mad at this guy who clearly doesn't treat her very well -- but also stumbles on her feelings for him. She's "thinking 'fight fight fight' at all costs/but instead I sat you down and offered you a beer". Although he's clearly an arsehole, and has "come crawling back" after two-timing her, she still loves him and can count the ways she adores him. Maybe it's meant to be sad, about how some people will keep taking back or going back to a partner who is abusive or just no good because they are charming or charismatic and can convince them they "want to make good, in the end". Just the same, I like it because it's not cut and dry -- it's not a simple reaction to a complicated situation. You don't suddenly stop caring about someone when they hurt you.

She lists all the ways in which he was a disappointment -- he wasn't a good lay, or a good friend, and consistently let her down. But somehow there is still a wry sense of humour when she asks "But what can I say? I adore you."

Ani's voice and guitar playing in the song have a very staccato feel -- jerky, and brash, and yet somehow it works for me. It was pointed out to me that Ani very rarely sings, at least in her verses, and it's this that reinforces for me the impression of her as a poet -- when I listen to male singers, it's often for me about the range and passion and power of their voices, the Eddie Vedders, Chris Cornells and Jeff Buckleys of this world, or the intense, husky drawls of the Mark Lanegans. But Ani changes all that -- she is soft spoken and often half-narrating, before bursting into an impassioned chorus of her own.

You had Time is very different, instead a very quiet and sad song -- again about a relationship that's broken down. Nick Hornby said something to the effect of this is how you fantasise all lesbian relationships are when they break up -- still so gentle and loving and tender. It could be autobiographical, I don't know, but the protagonist has returned from tour to her lover and is expected to know what they are doing with their relationship. Her partner says to her "You said you needed time; you had time". It's the metaphors that really appealed to Nick Hornby -- the beauty of phrases like "You are a china shop, and I am a bull. You are really good food, and I am full" -- it's the same way of saying "it's not you, it's me", but who wouldn't rather hear it this way? Sometimes hearing it like that can give us an insight into previous break ups of our own maybe -- an unfortunate situation, where it just wasn't working.

I could write for days about Ani's songs -- songs like Napoleon, or Little Plastic Castle, mixing the angry with the more tender. Or Ani's angry and bitingly political Self Evident that I find so difficult to listen to because of the sheer emotion in it. Instead I will include As Is -- a kind of love song.

But I can't write for days or explore every song's stories and stanzas. I can't even urge everyone to go and listen to her music, because I can't be sure you won't outright hate it. And it's not because it's all that challenging or different as music goes, but because it's such a specific approach -- one of those combinations where you have to really like the poetry, and like the rough approach to the guitar and voice. But she is one of my favourites -- the quirky, silly, funny, angry, passionate Ani.

As Is