Thor Christensen

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Thor Christensen is the pop music critic for The Dallas Morning News.
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Filled with angst and ire, Ani DiFranco's punky folk rock is an acquired taste

05:11 PM CDT on Saturday, September 20, 2008

By THOR CHRISTENSEN / The Dallas Morning News
tchristensen@dallasnews.com

Ani DiFranco told an interviewer in 2004 she doesn't try to be "accessible or even likable or tolerable." Four years later, she's sticking to that agenda.

The 37-year-old singer played by her own rules Friday night at the Granada Theater in a performance that was daring but often difficult. Catchy melodies were rarer than Republicans at this show.

JASON JANIK/Special Contributor
JASON JANIK/Special Contributor
Folk-rock singer Ani DiFranco played by her own rules Friday night at the Granada Theater.

That was just fine with a capacity crowd that came to see her play North Texas for only the second time since 1999. In the '90s, Ms. DiFranco became a cult hero, not just for her music but her liberal politics, her do-it-yourself ethic (she refuses to sign to a big record label) and for being openly bisexual.

Last year, she became a first-time mother, which she broached Friday in the new "Present/Infant." Most songwriters get gooey when they write about babies, but Ms. DiFranco used her tot as a mirror for her own insecurities.

Mommyhood definitely hasn't mellowed her. In the title track to her new CD, Red Letter Year, the part-time New Orleans resident ripped George Bush for his response to Katrina: "The water is rising, and representing the white race, a man with a monkey for a face is flying over in a helicopter, whistling Dixie and playing dumb."

As liberal as she is, some of her wittiest political statements were bipartisan. The show-stopper was "Grand Canyon," a poignant jumble of beat poetry about feminism, patriotism and the absurdities of air travel.

Her punky folk rock is an acquired taste, full of choppy guitars and jagged vocals. But she wisely brought along former Dallasite Mike Dillon, who softened her music with lovely vibraphone solos. Flanked by upright bassist Todd Sickafoose, Mr. Dillon steered several songs in the direction of Van Morrison's jazzy Astral Weeks.

But all eyes were on Ms. DiFranco, who lurched, spun and kicked her away across the stage, beaming all the while. Her lyrics may be filled with angst and ire, but onstage, she seemed like a rebel without a care.

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