Righteous Babe Records

Hadestown

admin — Fri, 28 May 2010 16:01:00 +0000

Before reviewing the album, I have to admit, Ani Difranco and Justin Vernon of Bon Iver, who are both major contributors to the project, definitely rake up the most counts on my iTunes top played lists. Bias.

That said however, Anaïs Mitchell’s folk opera Hadestown is a masterful album in its own right, originally beginning in 2006 as a live show that toured New England with a cast of twenty-two performers. The show, and now complete album, is an impressive Americana retelling of the Greek myth of Orpheus and Eurydice that evokes a feel of Depression-era America and a doomed future in which all desperately seek to preserve their power, freedom, and riches.

Researching the mythical story a bit so I could understand the compelling narration of the album, I found that it is a love story about Orpheus, a poet who swayed Hades with his beautiful music to bring back his beloved Eurydice from the underworld. As I already alluded to, Mitchell’s ambitious, bold, fourth album is a collaborative project, with the lead singer of Bon Iver as Orpheus (my all-time favorite), Ani DiFranco as Persephone (the strong-willed wife of Hades), Greg Brown as Hades ("king of the kingdom of dirt") and Mitchell as Eurydice, the beautiful young woman seduced into Hades' underworld.

"I recognized in the Orpheus character something a lot of artists feel: his heartbreaking optimism," observes Mitchell. "In the underworld, the rules are the rules, you don’t get a dead person back—but Orpheus believes if he can just sing/play/write something beautiful enough, maybe he can do the impossible, move the heart of stone, get through to someone. I've felt that feeling..." And alas, an incredible album is born, complete with human emotion, social commentary, and an incredibly impressive artistic collaboration.

In general, the lovely Vermont singer-songwriter has a unique, eclectic style all her own, but has definitely been influenced by "the earthiness of Shawn Colvin, the child-like bite of Joanna Newsom, and the urban jumpiness of Ani DiFranco." As this reviewer continues, "These elements, as disparate as they might seem, come together as nicely as cinnamon, cloves, and nutmeg" (Margaret Reges, Allmusic.com). In January 2008, I was actually lucky enough to see Mitchell play shortly after she was taken up by Difranco’s Righteous Babe Records, opening a show for the extraordinary anti-folk goddess herself.

Back to the album, Hadestown is definitely the most creative, inspired folk album I have heard in the past couple years, bringing a fresh perspective to the mythic tradition and timeless themes of power, love and desperation. Listen—to the feature on NPR or buy it—but listen to it all the way through. Even if the Americana style generally doesn’t appeal to you, and I admit it normally doesn’t for me, the inspired and compelling narration, craft, and featured artists on the album come together and truly form something magical.

Written by: Abigail Chance, May 28th 2010

Red Letter Year

admin — Wed, 03 Dec 2008 18:04:00 +0000

By Ani DiFranco

Righteous Babe Records

Red Letter Year is one of those records about—dare I say it?—hope. Its folksy tunes praise Mother Earth and the blessings we all share at the end of a devastating political era. You don't have to be a longtime fan of Ani DiFranco to be convinced that it is desirable—hell, even possible—to live in the woods, knit your own socks, grow your own food, and exist in a woman-centric world (assuming you don't already). Just as public rhetoric swirls around the sweeping changes that are coming, Ani reminds us that another type of radical life for us as individuals is possible now. Her life and work is all about putting forward ideas for radical action, and this album is no different. Red Letter Year finds our indie heroine a little older, wiser, and a bit more hopeful.

Indispensable sentiments: how love can make most of life's inconveniences seem inconsequential, how praying to a male god is "insane", and how complicated it is to nitpick oneself when your child is now your reflection more than a mirror. DiFranco is a mother now—clearly a euphoric one—and it shows. The title track opens with soaring joy and a sound of promise, with the entire album following suit. The artwork alone is worth the purchase; the lovely, earthy design and liner notes feel so tangible in a time of digital downloads and lyrics websites.

Ani's work—from her music to her record label—represents a particular type of radical feminism. Just because you don't subscribe to that vein of ideology doesn’t mean you can't appreciate this folksy rocker as she croons and reflects on our universal struggles. Take it from a late convert: if you didn't love Ani before, this is the time to start.

Written by: Brittany Shoot, December 3rd 2008

Canon / Verses

admin — Mon, 29 Oct 2007 11:47:00 +0000

By Ani DiFranco

Righteous Babe Records, Seven Stories Press

Being an Ani DiFranco fan has been a part of pretty much every feminist’s rite of passage since she came on the scene in the early ‘90s with the release of her self-titled album. Now seventeen years, two DVDs, and nearly thirty albums (including remixes, tributes, and live discs) later, DiFranco has simultaneously released a retrospective double-CD and book of poetry that show just how much she has grown personally, politically, and artistically. Both are an inspiration to all of us as we make our way through our own lifelong journeys.

One thing DiFranco has always been good at is creating songs that resonate deeply with girls and women. We listen to her because we can identify with where she’s been or where she’s at now, and because she gives us a little hope that we, too, can navigate life’s difficulties with the grace that DiFranco writes about in her songs and poems.

Canon is a collection of thirty-six songs that were chosen by DiFranco herself as best works, which, even as a double-disc set, is nowhere near comprehensive considering the multitude of tunes she has to choose from. A bonus for fans is the inclusion of re-imagined and re-recorded versions of old favorites “Napoleon,” “Shameless,” “Your Next Bold Move,” “Both Hands,” and “Overlap.” Inevitably there will be complaints of the omission of this song or that song (indeed, entire albums are absent), but the truth is that new fans and diehards alike can easily and satisfactorily kick back with this sampling. The album shows the breadth not only of DiFranco’s work, but also the influence of musicians she’s played with along the way (e.g., Sara Lee, Andy Stochansky, Julie Wolf, Todd Sickafoose).

Always introspective, DiFranco’s somewhat chronological (though heavily pulling from more recent albums) musical selections reflect the long and difficult road that every woman has to pave for herself. At times the road is fun and easy, but it’s also fraught with challenges that may be anticipated, precipitous, or elusive. This is reflected lyrically, as well as in the shifts in instrumentation, style, and genre.

In recent years, DiFranco has pushed herself as a musician, venturing away from the ‘folk rock’ label that she had been branded with early on in her career, and moving toward a more eclectic blend of ambient, jazz, and blues. Her classic storytelling style is more self-aware and less dogmatic, which indicates that she’s settled into herself – something else I find immensely appealing about this work.

Verses gives an even wider peek into DiFranco’s artistic process. The book features several previously unpublished poetic works and showcases, for the first time, over twenty paintings and drawings - some abstract and others more straightforward. This was a risk on DiFranco’s part, but one that pays off as they compliment the written words that appear alongside them in this collection. The only downside of Verses is the somewhat awkward “conversation” between DiFranco and mentor Sekou Sundiata, a professor of literature at The New School in New York City, which seems to consist of re-configured emails between the two because of its disjointedness and lack of clarity regarding its relevance to the rest of the book. Perhaps this should be revisited in future printings.

I think I better understand now themes in DiFranco's work that eluded me when some of these albums were released: meaningful lessons about the struggle to maintain (and let go of) love relationships, the chore of unlearning inherited family dynamics, the development of personal strength (and forgiving ourselves for our weakness), learning by making a lifetime of mistakes, and the complexity of it all amidst a bitterly polarized and oppressive political world. DiFranco is holding onto personal responsibility in a way that only comes from the wisdom of lived experience, failed idealism, and continuing to pick oneself up after being knocked down again and again. This is certainly a pinnacle point in DiFranco’s career, and what she does next is anyone’s guess. She just wants us to know that she’s not done. We want her to know that we’re not done either.

Written by: Mandy Van Deven, October 29th 2007

The Brightness

admin — Mon, 19 Mar 2007 21:26:00 +0000

By Anaïs Mitchell

Righteous Babe Records

As the newest addition to Righteous Babe Records, Anais Mitchell, has written an album full of tender metaphors, without the bitter tone of heartbreak. The Brightness will probably sit in the folk section of your favorite record store, but this album isn’t as simple as a singer and an acoustic guitar. Mitchell pulls in a piano, lap steel, cello, viola, banjo and other instruments to fill the record with layers upon layers of sound. There is no cynicism here, no post-post modern sarcasm about the life love leaves behind. This 25-year-old songwriter and Vermont native has given us a delicate, layered mythos of reality, complex and lovely.

Her voice, reminiscent of Joanna Newsom, speaks of New Orleans love before the flooding of the city, and when she states, “Nothing comes of the songs people sing, however, sorry they are” in “Hades and Persephone,” you believe her. But the album is moody, and it seems she can’t always decide whether her words are more important than the accompanying music. At times they seem one in the same. However, these aren’t just songs; they are stories. Luckily, there is no scorn here. The Brightness seems more like a moonlit walk than a romp in the sun. Mitchell's romantic, delicate songs are perfect for the days (and nights) we choose to sit still in the midst of our busy lives and listen.

Written by: Courtney Ham, March 19th 2007