You're talking about nature more in your songs. In "Evolve," you sing about becoming transfixed with your part in nature. And there's an unreleased song called "Animal" in which you say there's an animal looking out from behind your eyes.

Well, you know, I don't know much about nature. I've always been a city girl and I've always been enamored by people and culture. I'm fascinated by human dynamics. But one of the catalysts was this fucking pseudo-religious war that they started trying to market to us for awhile before it became counteracting the eminent nuclear threat before that became liberating Iraq, or whatever spin they want to put on it. So, I just found myself stepping back, little me in my little life, thinking my tiny thoughts, very far away from all of that -- the governments and wars and religions, and the war-torn Middle East and this battle of male will. And I began to think that we're always going to have wars as long as we have these patriarchal structures controlling us. I think that the template of how to live together and respect each other is in nature. It's almost a pre-religious thing. And there's a tendency in patriarchal structures to think of oneself as being above nature, whatever the religion, like we are very special beings that are created in God's image and therefore have the right to rule over all kinds of things. And our awareness of ourselves as animals, or part of an ecosystem, is nil. I'm beginning to realize that all these laws created by governments are simply imagined by men. The only true laws are the ones of nature.

So are you a vegetarian?

No. But I don't eat a lot of meat. It's about moderation. I'm not against eating meat as a concept, just as a sort of industry.

In the documentary "Render," you have a section where you ask fans not to scream "I love you, Ani!" or sing along with the songs. What's that about?

Well, basically so that folks watching the documentary would maybe realize if they were part of that dynamic. It's better than it used to be. I'm growing up and my audience is growing up a little bit, so the dynamic is changing. When you're trying to make music, it's hard to really sing with your full self, like stay in the song and really follow it, if somebody is caterwauling over you. It's impossible to hear your own song unfolding or to make it new again when you're just kind of struggling against that. It's like busking in a train station against a din of whatever. It's a loving, affirming kind of din, but it's still very unmusical. Sometimes it just totally prevents me from being able to focus, which defeats the purpose of us all gathering there.

In the song "Here for Now," you talk about wondering if your instrument needs to be miked and fantasizing about disappearing from the moment. Then you say that that thought is the one thing that saves you from your "fear of being here." What is that song about?

I guess it's about being paralyzed by a moment, whether that's, "Oh, I'm onstage in front of thousands of people and I suck and my hair is dumb and I can't remember how this goes," or "I'm standing here before this person who has -- whatever it is," but a situation that is such a big deal. I think it's me trying to pacify myself, like whatever it is that's such a big deal isn't such a big deal in the great scheme of the planet. It's almost like taking refuge in the fleetingness and the insignificance of myself. Just stand here and get through this moment because in a few minutes you'll realize this moment wasn't such a big deal.

What's it like to go back to your old songs now that you're older? I mean you must have changed musically and personally ...

Brutal! Or what you were wearing? All of it! I have a deep well of self-loathing and insecurity to go dipping in and this kind of job provides ample opportunities for that. One thing I do is I don't read anything about me anymore. I haven't for years now. And that really helps. And I certainly don't go back and listen to the records I made! And I don't look at pictures. I try to keep my focus off that, off me. It's incredibly embarrassing to make all your mistakes publicly and do a lot of growing in front of people. But, you know, whatever.

Does that affect the songs you choose to perform?

Luckily for me, I still really like a lot of the old songs. They've had troubled little lives, you know, but they're good kids. Unfortunately, their big class picture will long outlive them. They're covered in pimples, you know, and the hair was terrifying. You know, these albums that I've made, they're not necessarily good manifestations of these songs, but there's still a lot of songs from the first album onward that have meaning to me, that I still play with a full sense of being in it. But when I want to pull out an old song, I have to go back and relearn it -- and that means I have to put on the record. I know that will send me spiraling for days into the self-loathing pit, so that's a tough endeavor. I suppose the humbling is probably useful.

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