Word: anis
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...crammed in with all these screaming teenage girls, only about three layers of sweating bodies from the stage. I can barely move, but no matter--I'm transfixed. Ani DiFranco is dipping under electric blue and violet light to the opening strains of "Virtue," from her 1999 release Up Up Up Up Up Up. Suddenly she swings up to the mike, fingers flashing over the strings of her guitar. Her voice alternately cracks with anger and melts with intimacy. She sways as if weaving her entire being into the music, threading herself through the thrust of drums, bass and organ...
...only thing that kept me from becoming totally hypnotized by her penetrating performance was the screeching of hundreds of frenzied fans. They screamed the lyrics in near perfect unison, as if the show was just a festive jukebox of favorite Ani recordings, never mind DiFranco's efforts to flex her artistry outside of the studio mold. In response to altered melodies and new syncopations, they quickly adjusted their howlings and yowled on. It seemed at least one rabid fan cried. "I love you, Ani" or "Ani, you're beautiful" at every pause in the two-hour set and, a handful...
...their gender, race or sexuality to fight a society that excludes their voices. While skewering criticism that her music is too angry and political, DiFranco's songs have also responded to attacks from extremely possessive listeners who expect her to maintain an image appropriate to their favorite raging Ani DiFranco song. They may know all the words, but how hard do such fans really listen? The same kids who cheered a girl who screamed "FUCK THEM!" in the middle of "Little Plastic Castle" ("People talk/About my image/Like I come in two dimensions/Like lipstick is a sign of my declining mind/Like...
...crammed in with all these screaming teenage girls, only about three layers of sweating bodies from the stage. I can barely move, but no matter--I'm transfixed. Ani DiFranco is dipping under electric blue and violet light to the opening strains of "Virtue," from her 1999 release Up Up Up Up Up Up. Suddenly she swings up to the mike, fingers flashing over the strings of her guitar. Her voice alternately cracks with anger and melts with intimacy. She sways as if weaving her entire being into the music, threading herself through the thrust of drums, bass and organ...
...only thing that kept me from becoming totally hypnotized by her penetrating performance was the screeching of hundreds of frenzied fans. They screamed the lyrics in near perfect unison, as if the show was just a festive jukebox of favorite Ani recordings, never mind DiFranco's efforts to flex her artistry outside of the studio mold. In response to altered melodies and new syncopations, they quickly adjusted their howlings and yowled on. It seemed at least one rabid fan cried, "I love you, Ani" or "Ani, you're beautiful" at every pause in the two-hour set and, a handful...