A Righteous Sister Finds Success on Her Own Terms

If you were to believe the title of Ani DiFranco’s current album, “Not a Pretty Girl,” you’d be forced to conclude that popularity has nothing to do with looks.

At 25, DiFranco is among the most sought-after women in the music business. Since 1990, when she released her first album of confrontational folk music on her Righteous Babe Records label, the singer has been courted by leading independent and major record companies.

“Pretty Girl” is her most successful album yet, with sales of 45,000 since its release in June. It has led to exposure on MTV and in magazines ranging from Ms. to Rolling Stone, and now the suitors have become even more high-profile.

DiFranco, who headlines the Palace on Tuesday, isn’t mentioning any names, but at her recent concert at Irving Plaza here, the VIP list included Janet Billig, senior vice president of Atlantic Records and former co-manager of Courtney Love’s band, Hole.

But like some rebellious cheerleader in a coming-of-age flick, DiFranco seems intent on remaining unattached. She still records exclusively for Righteous Babe and has no plans to jump ship any time soon.

“I have very simple needs,” she explains over lunch at Benny’s Burritos, one of her hangouts in the East Village, where she keeps an apartment to “visit” between bouts of touring. “As long as I can do my art and make a living, I’m OK.”

Until about a year and a half ago, DiFranco and her longtime friend and manager Scot Fisher ran Righteous Babe out of Fisher’s apartment in Buffalo, the singer’s hometown.

They’ve since rented space in an office building and hired employees to handle the increasing load of phone calls from both industry bigwigs and fans who dial the direct-sale number (800) ON-HER-OWN to place orders and get information. (In June, DiFranco landed a deal with the distribution company Koch International, so her catalogue can now be purchased in many record stores as well.)

The title of DiFranco’s album may suggest that she’s not a conventionally pretty girl, but that’s due less to nature than to such eccentric fashion choices as greenish-yellow hair and the now notorious nose ring. What’s most striking, though, are her huge turquoise eyes, which boast lashes worthy of a mascara commercial and light up whenever she smiles--that is, constantly.

Indeed, DiFranco’s almost giddy warmth in conversation appears to contradict her image as a confrontational, politically outspoken performer. This is, after all, a woman who characterizes herself as “an activist who happens to write music and words” and whose punk- and folk-inspired songs deal unflinchingly with hot-button issues such as rape and abortion.

“I’m just driven by a desire to express myself,” DiFranco explains. “For me, politics is life. It’s what we eat and what we wear and how we treat each other. I guess my politics and art have always been connected. I think that’s why I ended up writing songs--because it’s the most direct form of artistic communication.”

DiFranco started singing and playing guitar in local establishments at the tender age of 9. She was 15 when she left home--she describes her family as “very uncommunicative”--and began living on her own. She eventually turned to painting, taking art classes at the State University of New York in Buffalo. All the while, DiFranco was developing the craft that would become her main focus.

In 1988, DiFranco made the big move to the Big Apple, where she maintains a home base while keeping the business in Buffalo and touring relentlessly here and abroad. Her recording schedule has been equally hectic: “Not a Pretty Girl” is her seventh album in five years.

“I think what Ani’s done is so impressive,” Atlantic’s Billig says. “She should be as big as Melissa Etheridge--or at least Liz Phair. . . . But part of her thing is that she’s done it on her own. She’s not working for the man, you know?”

DiFranco’s independence carries over to her personal life, which is the subject of much discussion among the press and her fans.

“I tend not to read things that are printed about me anymore,” the singer says. “Because from one article to the next you wouldn’t know they were talking about the same person.

“And then I hear about rumors on the Internet. Like that I’m involved in this massive feud with another performer. . . . And apparently I’m married--that’s an interesting story I’ve heard. But then I’m also supposed to be this big dyke.”

In fact, DiFranco is openly bisexual. She won’t divulge the specifics of her love life, she says, “because I don’t want to hurt those people who are in it. . . .

“But in general, I don’t believe that anything’s really private. We’re all going through the same [expletive], and the fact that there are issues that we won’t discuss in public--that’s cowardice, or shame, which are useless things.

“People feel this need to keep a lot of secrets. I guess they’re bugged by the fact that there’s no way for one person to make thousands of others understand that person. But that’s the world; you have to let it go, you know? I find myself funny in that way--that I have this great need to express myself, and yet I’ve come to terms with being misunderstood.”

Where her career goals are concerned, at least, DiFranco’s clarity leaves little room for misrepresentation.

“I absolutely want to stay independent. Scot and myself and all the people at Righteous Babe are terribly overworked. We get up every morning and think, ‘What are we doing?’ But there’s no formula we can follow. We’re trying to set a precedent, to provide an alternative model for musicians.

“Who needs the other labels?” DiFranco concludes, smiling sweetly. “[Expletive] ‘em!”

* Ani DiFranco plays Tuesday at the Palace, 1735 N. Vine St., 8:30 p.m. $16. (213) 462-3000.