Wild Card with Rachel Martin: NPR

Ani DiFranco says part of her feels like she still has to prove herself.

Danny Clinch/Righteous Babe Records

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Danny Clinch/Righteous Babe Records

Ani DiFranco says part of her feels like she still has to prove herself.

Danny Clinch/Righteous Babe Records

A note from Wild card Host Rachel Martin: It’s hard to overstate how important Ani DiFranco was to me in one particular chapter of my life. That chapter was right after college. My boyfriend of two years, which was a long time at that age, had moved across the country to live with his parents while he figured out how to live his life. And I slowly realized that he had started a new relationship.

Obviously I was heartbroken and angry. And the only thing that made me feel better was Ani DiFranco. I would only play her album. expansion as loud as possible without disturbing the neighbors and singing at the top of your lungs to feminist anthems that can be so gentle and simple one moment but then in just a moment can become angry and chaotic.

And that’s how I felt. DiFranco’s was the only voice authentic enough to express all of those emotions at once.

DiFranco hears stories like this all the time. And it’s not that she hates people remembering her this way. It’s just that she wants to be more than a ’90s feminist cult icon.

And she worked hard to prove it.

Last year alone, one A documentary about her life and career has been released.She has released her 23rd album and when I spoke to her a few months ago, she was in New York singing and dancing her way through the role of Persephone in the musical Hell.

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

Question 1: What place has shaped you as much as anyone else?

DiFranco: New York City. I came here when I was 18 and it was a real shock. I’m from Buffalo. And I mean, Buffalo is a real city. It’s a Rust Belt town that’s a little bit rough. Buffalo, where I grew up, was struggling economically. It’s not like New York City, which was the first place I came to. But, it was great. Still eye-opening in a lot of ways.

I saw so much suffering around me that I cried every day. Every day. And I was a kid who smiled and was like, “Wipe that smile off your face and get a grip. This is harsh.” I came out with shoulder-length hair and after a few months of living in New York, I shaved my head. Like, “Fuck off.”

Martin: What I love is that he’s someone who craves intimacy. But he’s built this barrier by shaving his head. So all he wants to do is make aggressive eye contact with people, share a little bit of intimacy. But everyone looks at him like, “No, you look creepy!”

DiFranco: Yeah. It’s really too much to scare people like a 5 foot 2 woman. You know, it’s pretty fun. People should try it.

Martin: There is power in that.

DiFranco: Yeah. And when you don’t have the power, it can be helpful. But, yeah, absolutely, I’m a completely open little creature, I wear my heart on my sleeve. And I’ve learned a lot of survival skills, but those little moments, when someone looks me in the eye or says something, I carry those with me for days and weeks, like medicine.

Question 2: What do you think you still have to prove to the people you meet?

DiFranco: Oh. I think at this point, I feel like I have to prove that there’s more to me. 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’ve made 15 records since they came out. And I think some of my new records are some of my best.

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

Ani DiFranco performs at the 2024 Tribeca Film Festival in June.

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Rob Kim/Getty Images

Question 3: How do you keep in touch with lost friends?

DiFranco: Well, I guess my mind immediately went to death and first to my father, my man, you know, and I was his. For many years, it was through dreams. I knew in my body, my spirit, my soul that death is not the end of consciousness. That the bodies that house us are temporary, but our spirits live on. So I felt that my real relationship with my father lived on after his body was gone. I felt that our interactions in dreams were not just memories or imaginations, but a constant conversation.

Martin: Yeah I get it.

DiFranco: And then, strangely enough, if I could be any more creepy about it, at some point those dreams just faded away. And I was like, “Where did Dad go?” And then I turned to my son, who’s now 10, and I said, “There he is. Dad’s 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 he was a boy. I just decided this baby was Dante and it would be weird if it was a girl and we would get a lot of stares. And then he came out and he looked like, a lot like my father. And my relationship with my son is just like my relationship with my father. Our love, our connection, our understanding of each other, the way we make each other laugh.

On some level, I had this revelation that, “Oh, you’ve come back in a way in this new body to hang out with me again.” And that’s what we’re doing. So that’s the most profound example I can give.