DiFranco Goes Glam Rock with Latest Show

Politely shoving my way into a hallway at the Cleveland Convention Center Monday night, which was crowded with shaved female heads, exotic piercing and the scent of unwashed dreadlocks, my Oberlin origins seemed right on hand.

Sure, I may have driven on past the cornfields, and yeah, I did notice a few more black leather jackets than usual, but really, this week's Ani DiFranco concerts were just two more Oberlin nights. But to be fair to my woman Ani and of course, to my rapidly depleted bank account which now, after two dates with DiFranco, is down $60, both concerts definitely rated a few notches above the 'Sco.

Ani, like I said, is my woman. I know, I know, I am at Oberlin, which ensures stiff competition for the "Ani's woman" position. Our Oberlin elitism may in fact peak in some circles when talking Ani. Every Ani discussion seems to turn into a passive-aggressive competition wherein the subtle victor wins the satisfaction of knowing that she is, no doubt, the one who listened to Ani, followed Ani, possibly even could conceivably say, grew up with Ani. It's fans like us, the two friendly rivals may concede, that brought Ani to Ohio State on this here occasion. Those Ohio State fans, nail-polished hands down, lose any sort of rights to Ani related titles. We, Ani's nipple ringed, ambiguous sexualitied brethren, can all unite against the real "other," the sorority-sister fan.

But hey, Ani chose Ohio State over Finney for reasons. Reasons other than the $12,000 gap between the two venue's offers. She, or at least her manager, doesn't want to rid the non-Oberlin element from her fan base. Bigger venues, like Merchon Auditorium in Columbus and Cleveland Convention Center allow the wide range of people that can all be called "real Ani fans" to spread comfortably and squint in the rock star red and yellow lights.

The fancy-shmancy lights inspired such heated reactions you would think she had (gasp) married a man.

For me, Ani, right there seven rows up, spouting her feisty brand of politics, head flailing up and down with each use of profanity, would have excused any sort of lighting device her little glam-heart may have desired. As soon as she began her latest poem in that trademark half-shout, half song, high ponytail banging on the empty stage, the top tier of the crowd ceased their incessant "we love you's," while the ground silenced, won back by Ani's lyrical rhetoric. I see the diversity of Ani's crowd as positive for the progressive politics she stands for. The word needs to get out, even if it's to sorority girls through songs on the radio. And even if it means our Oberlin elitist egos take a little beating.

I, in contrast to the "other" fans, and of course, in contradiction to this column's namesake, am pleased to say, did not quite make it out of the bubble.