A note from Wild Card host Rachel Martin: It's hard to overstate just how important Ani DiFranco was to me in a particular chapter of my life. That chapter being the one right after college. My boyfriend of two years, which is an eternity at that age, had moved across the country to live with his parents while he figured out what to do with his life. And it slowly became clear to me that he had started a new relationship.

I was obviously heartbroken and I was angry. And the only thing that made me feel better was Ani DiFranco. I would just blast her album Dilate as loud as I could without pissing off my neighbors and sing my guts out to these feminist anthems, which in one moment could be really tender and stripped down and then in an instant they could be angry and messy.

And that's how I felt. DiFranco's was the only voice that was real enough to represent all of those feelings at the same time.

DiFranco ends up hearing stories like this a lot. And it's not that she resents that people remember her this way. It's just that she wants to be more than a '90s feminist cult icon.

And she's put a lot of work into proving that.

In the last year alone, a documentary about her life and career came out, she released her 23rd album, and, when I talked with her a few months ago, she was in New York singing and dancing her way through her role as Persephone in the musical Hadestown.

This Wild Card interview has been edited for length and clarity. Host Rachel Martin asks guests randomly-selected questions from a deck of cards. Tap play above to listen to the full podcast, or read an excerpt below.

Question 1: What's a place that shaped you as much as any person did?

DiFranco: New York City. I came here when I was 18 and I was just in shock. I came from Buffalo. And I mean, Buffalo is a real city. It's a little hard-knock, Rust Belt town. The Buffalo I grew up in was economically struggling. It wasn't like New York City was my first rodeo. But, wow. Still eye opening in so many ways.

I saw a lot of suffering around me, which made me cry every day. Every day. And I was sort of a smiley kid and it's like, "Wipe that smile off your face and get it together. This is hardcore." I showed up with hair down below my shoulders and within a few months of living in New York I shaved it. As in, "Go away."

Martin: The thing I love is that you were someone who craved intimacy so much. But you were building this barrier by shaving your head. So all you want to do is aggressively make eye contact with people, share some intimacy. But everyone's looking at you like, "No, you look super scary!"

DiFranco: Yeah. That was really radical to scare people as a 5 foot 2 female. You know, that was pretty thrilling. Everyone should try it.

Martin: There is power in that.

DiFranco: Yeah. And when you have zero power, that can be useful. But, yeah totally, I'm a completely open, heart-on-sleeve little creature. And I was learning a lot of survival skills, but the little moments, when somebody would meet my eye or say something, I would carry those for days and weeks, like medicine.

Question 2: What is something you think you still have to prove to people you meet?

DiFranco: Ooh. I think at this point, I feel like I have to prove that I still have more. That I'm not done, you know? I get a lot of, "I loved you in the '90s!" Or, you know, "In high school..." and we're both 50. I have made 15 records since they got off. And I think some of my new records are some of my best.

I guess a part of me, maybe on some level, feels I have to prove I'm not done. I'm not a singer from the '90s. I'm right here and I'm still making art.

Question 3: How do you stay connected to people you've lost?

DiFranco: Well, I guess my mind immediately went to death and first to my father who was my guy, you know, and I was his. For many years it was through dreams. I firmly know in my body and my spirit and my soul that death is not an ending of consciousness. That these bodies that contain us are temporary, but that our spirits live on. So I felt like my actual relationship with my father lived on after his body was no longer. I felt our interactions in dreams were not just memories or imaginings, but continued conversation.

Martin: Yeah, I get that.

DiFranco: And then, weirdly, if I can get even more spooky about it, at some point those dreams kind of dissipated. And I was thinking, "Where'd you go, dad?" And then I turned to my son, who's 10 now, and I was like, "There you are. I've been climbing trees with you for the last five years."

I named my son Dante, which is my father's name, before I even knew if it was a boy. I just decided this baby was Dante and that's gonna be weird if it's a girl and we're gonna get a lot of looks. And then out he came and he looked, like, so like my father. And my relationship with my son is so like my relationship with my father. Our love, our bond, our understanding of each other, the way we make each other laugh.

On some level I had this revelation that, "Oh, you came back in some way in this new body to hang out with me again." And this is what we're doing. So that's the most profound example I could give.

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