
This is an excerpt from the print edition of Dirty Linen #121 (December 2005/January 2006).
The full article is in the magazine, available on newsstands, by subscription, and at the Dirty Linen webstore.

by Pamela Murray Winters
It's hard to imagine that Ani DiFranco is 35. Two years older than Jesus. An age at which you move into that demographic bracket that ends with an invitationto join the AARP.
Funny that this dynamic artist -- so identified with youth and rebellion -- has by now spent more than half her life on her own. She moved out of her family's house at 15. She released her first album the month she turned 20. She started a company at an age when many people are still living in Mom's basement or working on a bachelor's. And just before turning 35, at the end of July, she played her last concert -- at least for a while.
The occasion was the Floyd World Music Festival in Floyd, Virginia. DiFranco was the last act on the three-day festival's main stage; organizers sold "Ani-only" tickets to some attendees. But unlike the situation at some festivals, where the presence of an artist of DiFranco's stature (in fame, mind you, not inches) can turn the other performers into de facto opening acts for the star, the Floyd crowd welcomed her with the same enthusiasm they'd offered Railroad Earth, J.D. Crowe, and Dread Clampitt.
This is an excerpt from the print edition of Dirty Linen #121 (December 2005/January 2006).
The full article is in the magazine, available on newsstands, by subscription, and at the Dirty Linen webstore.
Copyright ©2005 Dirty Linen, Ltd, Baltimore, MD