From the opening strums of the title track to her new album “Knuckle Down,” Ani DiFranco charges headfirst into sweet madness. Her stream of consciousness singing has graced seventeen albums in over sixteen years. All of her recordings offer the same brilliant breaths of fresh air; the clean sounds heard here are new testaments to her prolific dedication to the craft.

The great body of work that is DiFranco’s discography has addressed everything from the power struggles in romantic relationships to the fragmentation of American society. She unabashedly wails at establishments both great and small, leaving no stone unturned.

On her previous album “Educated Guess”, released almost exactly a year to “Knuckle Down’s” Jan. 24’s release, DiFranco was simply naked. She wrote, produced and recorded everything herself. She would awake late at night sometimes and lay down a few tracks. Every aspect of that album was molded by her guitar string-cut fingers; and it was a gem.

On “Knuckle Down” DiFranco only adds to her folk-rock heroism as folksy Superman Joe Henry joins to produce the entire set of mind-blowing tracks. Because of this, the album is fuller and crisper and yet never takes away from her minimalist artistry. This is not a shortcoming and should not be seen as a departure from her independent sound. Instead it bares witness to the constant maturation of a truly great artist, who takes every album not as a moneymaking machine but as a revelatory adventure.

On the title track opener, DiFranco immediately shows her teeth and doesn’t relent by seemingly going about two-and-a-half minutes into the song without taking a breath. On the introspective “Studying Stones”, DiFranco digs deep into her memory to question her own commitment to the causes that so gripped her in the past.

The album’s middle tracks play out as if she’s viewing the scattered pieces of a relationship torn asunder. On “Manhole” DiFranco chants the details of her recent divorce to the plucks of Todd Sickafoose’s string bass. On “Sunday Morning” DiFranco rewinds the failed relationship to the sweeter more precious moments, when mornings with her lover were the purest and most delicate of times. By the time “Modulation” bounces across the speakers, DiFranco has nearly spent the listener’s entire energy supply; taking them across the entire spectrum of sensations.

“Parameters” is a spoken word track with a light guitar accompaniment that paints a haunting vision of one man’s isolation and what occurs when a fear, seemingly hidden beneath for decades, is released. Like some strange ghost story or twisted poetic, DiFranco’s fractured images somehow piece themselves back together in a compelling verse.

On some of her previous albums, DiFranco had a tendency to plunge deep into long, abhorring diatribes about all of the wrongs of the Promised Land. Those failures, though rare, are absent on “Knuckle Down.” In their place sits, the sparkling four-and-half minute “Paradigm” where DiFranco acknowledges that paying taxes is part of the essence of democracy and that the move to eliminate them is just the basis of our culture’s greed. She recollects on her mother’s own grass roots campaigning and “remembers the feeling of community brewing, of democracy happening.”

For all of her politics, DiFranco never distinguishes between the “personal” and “political”; feeling it necessary to make her politics not only as important as her creative message but a part of it as well. “Callous” only hints at the presence of politics and the rest of the album follows suit. DiFranco fans will see similarities between “Knuckle Down” and “Educated Guess” in the sense that this album is a personal album with only slight, whispered traces of politics.

The album is full of DiFranco’s signature, unfettered self-expression without ever falling into self-absorption. There is something organic in her music that puts mainstream superstars like Alicia Keys and Michelle Brach to shame in one full swoop. Maybe it’s the spoken-word tracks, which allow her poetic precision to flow sweetly with the melodies. On the other hand, maybe it’s the way these songs feel nurturing and comforting despite the stomping guitar and deepening bass grooves. Whatever it may be “Knuckle Down” is well worth multiple listens. Also, don’t think that a person is in some way a hypocrite for purchasing the album and buying into her rebellion, as if DiFranco’s songs are just some mouthpiece for a gigantic record company’s own profits. She is her own record company in Righteous Babe Records.

As her music evolves from album to album, there are a few constants following the 34-year-old singer-songwriter around: her beaten up yet trusty guitar, her sweet explosion of a voice, her devout grass roots following and her personal politics.

It is a rare and inspiring feat when an artist can constantly reinvent herself on every album; and DiFranco succeeds masterfully at this.