Al dente

Ani DiFranco's To the Teeth

by J. Poet

Ani DiFranco, like Bob Dylan in his prime, has an uncanny knack for writing songs that seem to talk directly to each member of her audience. The kind of music she favors -- folk, acoustic pop, singer/songwriter, or whatever you prefer to call it -- gets considerably less respect in the '90s than it did in the '60s. But DiFranco is one of the most important voices of her generation, especially to young women, riot grrrls, and baby dykes, though her fans also include straight and gay men, punks, old folkies, and musical and political progressives of all stripes.

Her big commercial breakthrough came in 1995, when she appeared on the covers of both Ms. and Spin magazines, earning almost more recognition for being a savvy businesswoman and a candid interview than for her musical achievements. At that point in her career Ani had already released an impressive six albums on her own Righteous Babe imprint, one of the most successful artist-run indie labels ever. But she has always been able to back up the gossip and the hype with substance in the form of her songs -- songs that inspire with fierce energy, witty lyrics, and a rich mixture of contemporary folk, Southern mountain modalities, country twang, jazzy vocal phrasing, and powerful, groove-oriented guitar work.

Since 1994, DiFranco's main musical partner has been Andy Stochansky, an extraordinary drummer whose sophisticated chops have played a big role in defining her funk-infused folk-rock sound. But the new To the Teeth (in stores this Tuesday, November 16), her 13th album and her second this year, marks the departure of Stochansky and the introduction of a new supporting cast: Julie Wolf, a keyboard player whose organ and piano work adds considerable weight to DiFranco's already phat sound; versatile bassist Jason Mercer; and drummer Daren Hahn. It's an album on which DiFranco continues to expand her musical palette and her circle of friends: the disc features guest spots by James Brown horn man Maceo Parker, rapper Corey Parker, and The Cipher Formerly Known As The Artist Formerly Known As Prince, all of whom help continue the exploration of funky folk and rootsy R&B DiFranco began earlier this year on Up, Up, Up, Up, Up, Up.

DiFranco is to be admired for her unwillingness to play by the rules. When she has a batch of new tunes, she makes an album, full speed ahead and damn the torpedoes. But her prolific output has begun to highlight a certain lack of focus, especially in terms of lyrics. To The Teeth's title track is a predictable meditation on the alarming frequency with which high-school kids are mowing down their classmates with automatic weapons. DiFranco's aim is true, particularly in lines like "confuse liberty with weaponry, and watch your kids act it out," but targets like MTV and the Republican-dominated Congress are all too obvious and easy to hit.

There are a few other minor missteps here: "Freakshow" relies on the overused "life is just another kind of show business" metaphor, and "I Know This Bar" is a sentimental song about her early days of busking in Buffalo. For the most part, though, To the Teeth sets out to bring more funk into DiFranco's folk. And in that regard it's largely a success, particularly in "Wish I May," with its smooth wah-wah swing and compelling balance between desire and cynicism, in the jazzy bounce of "Back, Back, Back," and in the horn-driven "Swing," which rides a bass line reminiscent of the Temptations "My Girl" and incorporates a little old-school hip-hop flavor. Other interesting tracks include "Going Once," which features an aching trumpet solo by Irvin Mayfield and brings to mind the Beatles' "She's Leaving Home," and the experimental "Carry You Around," an impressionistic mix of bass, multi-tracked vocals, and spare percussion.

As a guitarist, DiFranco has continued to grow as well. She's always been a strong player, capable of lashing out with an acoustic power chord that'll knock you flat. But here she accents her playing with rich melodic filigree and crystalline fills. "Cloud Blood" shows off her ability to balance folky simplicity, rock bombast, and delicate jazzy shadings.

Like many other prolific artists, including her new pal Prince, DiFranco always runs the risk of spreading herself too thin, of overreaching and falling flat. To the Teeth might have been a more cohesive album if she'd spent a little more time honing and editing the songs. But, then, it wouldn't really be an Ani DiFranco album.