Ani DiFranco
Evolve

THE REVIEW

The lepidopteran is destined for evolution, change, perfection; it is an urgency imposed by instincts and ancient laws. Metamorphosis is an extremely fascinating and seductive process: it draws you into the spirituality of being, and even the body inexplicably becomes the territory of an ephemeral mysticism, while already savoring the nostalgia that will shower down at the end of the journey.

Ani DiFranco's metamorphosis is represented by a nocturnal moth, which does not change into any chrysalis, but remains the same chameleonic creature, sanguine and rustic, yet ready to embark on a more evanescent journey, at times melancholic, "no longer chasing light bulbs, but wanting to gaze upon the moonlight."

A pleasant anomaly of the music market that early on took control of herself, she released more than a dozen albums while very young and founded a record company, and so, for once, the numbers are welcome.
After the acoustic experience, she returns with the old band: the harmony and chemistry are immediately obvious, the guitars are delightful, rarefied jazz atmospheres barely touched, "O My My" in congenial contrast with funk rhythms "In The Way," with inevitable echoes of folk, while sections of horns, saxophones, and clarinets accompany and clash with Ani's voice and her robust way of singing, with her personal ability to swallow five words and then break a sixth, to hold and then suspend with great naturalness.

In general, there's the sensation of being on the brink of an implosion, both spiritual and physical, the hatch is within reach, getting closer and closer, the throbbing flower is about to bud, but the long-awaited bloom vanishes, the blocked phylogenesis swells upon itself and evaporates, leaving you suffused with an indulgent slight disappointment.