MEMPHIS – Tattooed and pierced, sporting peace signs and “Kerry/Edwards” buttons, a throng of cheering hipsters piled into the New Daisy Theater, awaiting their leader.
The woman they came to see was Ani DiFranco, the dreadlocked folk goddess who has developed a reputation as one of the most politically driven musicians since the 1960s.
DiFranco, touring through 12 swing states in an attempt to win votes for Democratic presidential candidate John Kerry, has been a vocal critic of President Bush.
But the singer isn’t crazy about Kerry, either. During “Fuel,” she asked a fist-pumping crowd, “Who’s gonna be president? Tweedle Dumb or Tweedle Dumber?”
DiFranco actually identifies herself as a socialist, but there is much more to the singer than political party affiliation. DiFranco’s music deals with a broad accumulation of social and political issues including reproductive rights, gun control, media corruption, capitalism and human rights.
While she doesn’t want to see President Bush elected to a second term, she said the focus of her 12-state tour is to encourage the country’s youth to vote.
“Exercising our right to vote is simply necessary for creating democracy,” she said during an online press conference. “Without participation we don’t have a democratic system. We have a capitalist system.”
DiFranco said that, because of a distrust of the political system, young voters are not showing up a the polls in the numbers that they should.
“Young people were born into their disillusionment with the political system in this country,” she said. “We have never known a time when ‘politician’ was not synonymous with ‘greedy calculating liar.'”
Despite being disappointed with Kerry’s skimming of important issues, Difranco hopes that his election will offer a progressive switch to Democratic administrations.
“We must remember we are not electing a king and beyond the personality contest, the change will mean a whole new cast of characters in all kinds of appointments,” she said.
“Whether or not we are empowered citizens is much bigger and more eternal than the joker in the Oval Office. I am simply about sharing and celebrating the truth, in this and every tour.”
After the young musician began hearing of her impact on indie crowds 14 years ago, corporate record producers hounded her to sign a contract, to no avail.
Instead, DiFranco established her own production company, Righteous Babe Records. Operating over dining room tables and coffee shop couches, allowed her to write, play and record songs without the restrictions and expectations of a contract.
She only got more popular.
Here, in an auditorium with no seats, save the balcony, fans of DiFranco squeezed into blue-metal railings, packing in the middle square to get a good view. One guy flaunted a red baseball T-shirt with the words “Masculine Feminist” printed on the front.
After the first two shows, a historical documentary of the perils that women and African Americans underwent to obtain suffrage was displayed on a large stage backdrop.
The audience clapped and waved peace signs at every picture, anticipating the approach of their leader. Immediately after the documentary encouraged viewers to make voting a lifestyle, a small-bodied woman stepped onto the left half of the stage.
As dark silhouettes below screamed and jumped above one another to catch a glimpse of her, Difranco walked downstage to play songs from her latest album, Educated Guess. Upright bassist Todd Sickafoose harmonized with her for those and unreleased songs from her upcoming album, Knuckle Down. Dressed in a white-ribbed tank top and cargo jeans, Difranco fastened her long hair off her neck to dance in semi-circles as she slap-strummed her acoustic strings. Black tape thickly wrapped her fingers to protect them from shredding skin. After breaking the 6th string, she picked an electric banjo so her crew could re-string it.
Now at age 34, the singer still has the final say on how her art is released. Righteous Babe has produced 16 albums with its central office in Buffalo, New York, now working on a much larger scale than it did in 1990. Fans can now buy her CDs like they do for most others, instead of from the trunk of her hand painted car.