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The compact-disc format has made it easier for people to make grand statements. More often than not, though, these have been perpetrated by popular, important, self-important artists whose collective "visions" have amounted to little more than exercises in bombast and hubris. Especially in her early days, Ani DiFranco has shown herself comfortable with bombast and unafraid of hubris; her righteous babe-like principles make the listener ever-aware that the possibility of self-satisfaction is just around the corner. But these fears — most of which do not come from DiFranco herself, but arise through gathered archetype — melt away across this set's lengthy spans (the cover of her eleventh album in 11 years boasting: "Two discs/29 new songs/two hours of music/one righteous babe"), in which Ani D produces her most skillful and soulful work thus far. Most of her outright foot-stamping is gone, and so are those eager coffeehouse-folkie playing-as-hard-as-Steve-Earle strums; instead, her divisions of folk and funk now work in demure measures and through subtle playing. On many tunes, DiFranco plays all the instruments, meaning that often songs are only quietly colored with soft percussion. And, notably, after all these years, DiFranco's voice, always a signature, is becoming a captivating croon befitting someone of her stature. Long done with yelling, her voice is now an expressive instrument, as when she seems to be channeling Karen Dalton on "Revelling," or when she maximizes the hiss of whispers and the acoustics of distance on the gracious "School Night," or when she offers a tremulous cowgal croon amid the dustbowl twangs of "Whatall Is Nice."
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