Ani DiFranco, American-Canadian singer-songwriter, poet, and activist, returned to Italy with a stop at Rome’s Casa del Jazz, part of the Roma Summer Fest. On the setlist: her new album, Unprecedented Sh!t, produced with BJ Burton (best known for his work with Bon Iver), and a handful of songs pulled from over three decades of fiercely independent songwriting. The Rome date had been billed as a concert “against Trump” — a phrase that might sound performative, if it weren’t so consistent with everything DiFranco has stood for. “Right now in America,” she said from the stage, “we’re heading into completely uncharted territory. Democracy feels genuinely at risk. That’s where the album title comes from. It reflects the state of things from a lot of angles.”
Born in Buffalo and now based in Louisiana, DiFranco doesn’t draw a line between geography and worldview. “Down there,” she said, “everything’s more extreme — racism, poverty, kindness. It forces you to listen more.” That sense of attention, careful, unsentimental, defined the entire Roman set. Unprecedented Sh!t is an album built from sharp edges and quiet decisions. It sounds that way live, too.
Some tracks hit more directly. New Bible lands like a clipped sentence left hanging. Just before Baby Roe, DiFranco paused to say it had been “beautiful to see people out in the streets.” She added: “We’ve got to be there for each other. The stronger we make ourselves, the more badass our movement becomes.” No hashtags, no banners. But the reference to the Supreme Court’s dismantling of Roe v. Wade was unmistakable. For DiFranco, reproductive justice isn’t just about abortion access. It’s about who controls the body, and how fragile that control is becoming.
Despite being called a “political artist” for most of her life, DiFranco still resists the label of protest singer. Fuel landed on Rolling Stone’s list of the 100 Best Protest Songs, and she once shared a stage with Pete Seeger for Whose Side Are You On? But as she explained, “I don’t want to be reduced to a label.” Still, her writing — from phrasing to rhythm — remains undeniably political in form, even when it avoids slogans.
Midway through the set, she played Our Lady of the Underground, from Hadestown, the Tony-winning musical where she played Persephone on Broadway for six months. The song isn’t loud, but it talks — about transactions, about thresholds, about who gets to move freely and who doesn’t.
Back in 2021, she released Revolutionary Love, inspired by Sikh American activist Valerie Kaur, who reframes love not as feeling, but as civic action — a practice extended even toward your enemies, as a form of resistance. DiFranco still plays the title track. She doesn’t introduce it. She doesn’t explain it. She just plays it. If you know, you know. If you don’t, she’s not here to spell it out for you.
In a time when live shows are often designed to offer escape, DiFranco insists on the opposite. Her music pulls you into the present. It doesn’t apologize for being difficult. Her activism doesn’t come with a spotlight or a statement. It’s a way of moving through the world. Quiet, steady, and still very much awake.
