My big question, "How has becoming a mother affected your career?", was answered long before I got Ani DiFranco on the phone. Two days, two phone calls and three conversations with her rep later, I realized that motherhood had indeed affected DiFranco's career significantly, but not necessarily detrimentally.
On two nights before our scheduled phone interviews, DiFranco had been up late with her daughter, Petah Lucia DiFranco Napolitano, and she was still sleeping at the appointed times. Although DiFranco's need for rest made it something of a feat to score an interview, there's no doubt the prolific songwriter, who has been touring nearly nonstop for two decades, has earned relaxation and a change of pace.
DiFranco, who began her career as a pre-teen busking on the streets and playing in bars and clubs in her hometown of Buffalo, N.Y., has long been the darling of the feminist folk-rock scene. Emancipated at age 15 from her parents, DiFranco moved out on her own when her parents divorced and left Buffalo. She supported herself while she finished high school and went on to found Righteous Records (which later became Righteous Babe Records) at age 19. Over the next two decades, through word of mouth and grassroots efforts, the folk-rock singer/songwriter garnered much critical acclaim for her opinionated lyrics which touched on heady issues including sexuality, feminism, politics, racism, sexual abuse, homophobia, abortion and war.
In January of 2007, DiFranco gave birth to her first child, fathered by her boyfriend and co-producer of her 2006 release Reprieve, Mike Napolitano. Later in the year, DiFranco and her associates, after many years of hard work, opened Babeville, a state-of-the art performance space built in a remodeled historic church in downtown Buffalo that had been slated for demolition.
The Advocate caught up to the folk singer/songwriter on the third try, and it was well worth the wait as DiFranco discussed her plans for Babeville, why she chose a home birth, fans' reactions to her new status as a mother, and her support for Barack Obama for president.
Advocate: I'd like to start out with questions about Babeville. What made you want to embark on this endeavor to save the historic building from demolition?
Well, the beginning goes back to my childhood and my mother. She was an architect when I was young, and she was very a big believer in "the city," any city, and the importance of it being the epicenter of culture and society. She was very active when I was young, trying to save Buffalo from things like white flight—when white people moved out of cities. They got in their new cars and built new houses in suburbia, and that trend has been continuing to this day. Buffalo is not unique in that it's depleted in its money supply, and the end result is that [the city] just gets destroyed. Very short-sighted people will tear down a historic building because a parking lot makes more money.
A respect for architecture and infrastructure is in my bones. That's something I share with my friends and my manager Scott Fisher, who is also president of Righteous Babe Records. He shows up to the Righteous Babe office on almost a daily basis and sees the buildings around the office in downtown Buffalo get put on the chopping block.
Are there other buildings in Buffalo, then, that you've worked on saving or remodeling?
[Scott's] successfully stopped the demolition of so many. He uses Righteous Babe funds. The story of the church started pretty typically with a call from Scott saying, "Can I take some money and hire an assessor to prove that they don't need to tear this building down?' The state of the building was bricks and stones falling onto the sidewalk. But there are so many neglected [buildings]. Some would say demolition. I say just put some mortar in the bricks and shut up.
How long did your renovation project take?
I'll say seven years, but that doesn't include now. It's ongoing. We're still working on it—now we're working on the downstairs club.
Are other people going to perform there, or is it going to be a personal performance space?
Oh, no—other people are performing there all the time. We started booking the main room with various stuff—local stuff, [big name] acts, a little bit of both. We've done a lot of everything, from weddings to bat mitzvahs and all sorts of community events.
How has becoming a mother changed you as a person and a musician, and has it changed the way you see the world?
Well, I think I see the world in much the same way. It's not like I've had a political awakening of conscience, in that I realized my child was inheriting this world. I think I was always on that tip. As far as my music and myself, she's definitely slowed down production of songs, so to speak& But at the same time she takes energy from my other modes of creativity, she also gives back a lot of energy and a lot of joy. Touring is great all over again. She sort of makes it fun and new& I haven't gotten the time or mental space to write new songs in quite a while. I would just like to qualify that by saying I'm okay with that. I am a woman who has dedicated 20 years, literally, to my work, wholly and totally and almost beyond reason. So to put my energy elsewhere for a while—it feels good.
Well, I daresay you've been one of the most prolific artists of the past two decades. You've put out an album every year, except 2000, for the past 20 years, right?
Yeah, I think if I'm guilty of anything it's maybe of being too prolific—spitting things into the world without refining them enough. I just finished a new record. It's been almost two years since the last studio record and I think you can hear on this record the benefits of time and perspective. I've honed in that much more of what this record is and how it should sound.
In People Magazine you said, "Birth is the epicenter of women's power." What does that mean for women who can't or don't want to procreate?
I'm not talking about you or me as an individual. I'm talking about womankind. They can still be as powerful a person as any. By the epicenter of our power, I mean the ability to make life. It's extremely profound and absent for men. There are many feminist theories that explore the will of men to reclaim power from women by lording over the power of death. Because they don't have the ability to make life, they will make death, and in that sense become the all-powerful controllers of life after all. You can see in patriarchal societies an immense attempt to control women's reproduction and birthing with the whole hospitalization thing. There's a sickening amount of intervention and control in the medical establishment.
I was quite revelated by reading the work of Ina May Gaskin, who is historically an incredibly important midwife. She is often thought of as the mother of the home birth movement in this country, and it was her writing that really made me start thinking about the power of birth, not just in terms of making human beings, but in terms of making women—to do something as surreal and painful and difficult as [birth] is something that infuses women with an incredible sense of their own power. It gives them an awareness of the scope of their own power, and connects to other women, to nature, to animals. Basically, I think it helps women to really understand their connection to all of creation.
Was it because of Gaskin's writings that you decided to give birth at home?
I had already decided to do that. My own personal reason is that I'm a very sensitive creature. [The hospital] would be a very intimidating and counterproductive environment for me to give birth in. I had started to explore writings about hospital deliveries and discovered that basically, the hospital environment sort of pressures women to get it done quickly, which is not what birth is about. There are also various forms of intervention which can really obstruct what would otherwise be a natural birth and natural transformation.
I've read some articles that say people are upset because you had a baby, and fans feel as if you've betrayed them. It almost seems as if some of your fans want to keep you from changing and growing. Do you feel that way?
Not at all. I'm sure that there is a contingent of people who don't want me to change and want me to just represent something that is useful especially to them, but there are many contradictory desires of what I want to be. Plus, that's not a pressure I could even begin to accommodate, so why spend time on that? Besides which, the overwhelming feeling that I get from my audience is support. I don't know who is sitting and writing what on the Internet& that really has much more to do with the commenter than me& but I do know who is showing up at the shows, and many of these folks have gone on many a rollercoaster ride with me.
Many are still coming out to go along for the ride. I feel intensely grateful and loving towards [members of] my audience, basically because I still have a job, and I have them to thank for it.
Your music from the past few years seems directed more towards a mainstream audience. It also seems less political than your earlier output. Is there a reason for this?
Well, I think my music has done nothing but change from the beginning. My last record was called Reprieve. It wasn't about feminism, but about reprieve: I've been trying to speak about feminism as a road out of political, social, environment and political crises. It's not just about the equality of women but also survival as women. I feel like my understanding of feminism has deepened over my life—I am dedicating no less energy to talking about it.
Your retrospective, Canon, contains a myriad of songs—some from as far back as your debut album. How did you choose which songs to include?
Oh, I don't know. It was just an intuitive process, like anything in my life. If I did it today, I would do it differently, I'm sure—there's a lot left out. I keep thinking I sort of desire to make one more as a Canon, Volume II. I think 20 records distilled into two is quite something.
I see that you were a supporter of Dennis Kucinich for president. Now that he's no longer in the running, are you endorsing anyone else for president, or have you not decided yet?
Oh, no, I'm not undecided. I think Obama is great, I'm just not officially endorsing him. With Obama, even on the points in which we differ, I feel extremely excited at the thought of having a president who is intelligent, who is thoughtful, and who has the ability to listen. I feel like even with issues about nuclear power, which I am very passionately opposed to, he does a little bit of fence-sitting. But I feel like there are endless opportunities to reason with a reasonable man. I am thrilled by him being a prospect for president and the change that he will bring about in the world, and not just in this country, our hearts and our perception of ourselves: the whole world is watching us. [Obama's presidency] is going to mean life as opposed to death.
Were you ever on board with Hillary?
I think the idea of a woman president is a beautiful thing, just on the level of precedent, so in the future that door will be open to women. Hillary herself is not my favorite person and/or politician—she's too much of a politician for me, and too conservative on the issues.
What's next for you?
I just finished my next album, Red Letter Year. It's coming out in September. I'll be touring, but going a little bit slower—two- to three-week runs at the most.
DiFranco performs on Sat., July 12 at 7 p.m. Kimya Dawson (of the Moldy Peaches and of Juno soundtrack fame) opens. Pines Theatre, 300 North Main St., Florence, (413) 586-8686, www.iheg.com.
