Ani DiFranco
Little Plastic Castle (Righteous Babe)
by Jamie Kiffel
As usual, Ani DiFranco‘s devoted fans will be pleased to receive yet another tightly-wound knot of napkins binding up a variety of feminine pathologies. Little Plastic Castle dips deep inside the bell-shaped goldfish bowl, sailing powdery-voiced tumults through introspection and over rivers of guitar-speak that comment very quietly and ripple only rarely. DiFranco achieves a state of rhyme that drums out rhythms that roll as satisfyingly slickly as limericks, often wrapping some of her most acidic neuroses within her phrases’ alacrity to be spoken or sung.
DiFranco delivers lyrics with the same stylistic pizzazz that won her cheers from audiences throughout her live album,Living in Clip. Her hesitation in stating, “I would give you my… pulse” (on “Pulse”) is startling with its lip-popping evocation of a real pulse. On “Loom,” DiFranco brazenly calls in a lusty feline voice, “I won’t do anything/you can’t tell your wife,” making aural scars in any guard against emotional adultery.
Despite her powerful delivery of many inventive thoughts on this album, DiFranco still manages to alienate many listeners with such confusing messages as “Just give up/and admit you’re an asshole” on “As Is,” which is juxtaposed within the same song with the repeated statement, “I got no illusions about you/…when I said I’ll take it/I meant as is.” If the speaker is really ready to accept the subject “as is,” why is she wasting time insulting him or her as well as demanding change? This stereotypical feminine indecision, mixed with the angry assertion that the woman has been wronged, makes me clench my teeth on Christine Lavin’s question, “Are you a victim or a volunteer?” I lose respect for DiFranco’s fight to achieve a strong v??? when she sings, “Did I ever tell you how I stopped eating when you stopped calling me?” on “Independence Day.” Why is she compelled to constantly expose her vulnerability by explicating her feelings of being trampled? Although DiFranco winds her wounds well with finely-crafted bindings, it is still a drag to hear yet another woman saying, “When they’re out for blood, I always give” (on “Pixie”). Ultimately, overuse of this subject matter merely becomes exploitative of both the subject and the subjected.
Being used and oppressed is terrible, and DiFranco has proven that there is a lot to say about it. DiFranco’s lyrics are good enough, however, and her style powerful enough, that it is time for her to stop circling in the fishbowl of society’s assumptions and to use her talent to show that her oppression is not the confining limit of her art.
