Janis Ian discusses the Internet, aging, sexuality and life under the gaze of the FBI.

Who is Janis Ian? The answer depends on whom you ask. Her voice may sound familiar to casual listeners who’ve heard her on commercials for McDonald’s and AT&T. She’s also known for performing the hit song from that Jodie Foster movie, Foxes. The track, "Fly Too High," was a No. 1 disco hit in 1980 in most parts of the world… except for here in the States. Why it didn’t do so well here might have something to do with long memories in the music biz. Power brokers likely thought of her as most of her contemporaries still do. Folks huddled close to Ian’s recent milestone (she just turned 50) can’t help but think of "Society’s Child (Baby I’ve Been Thinking)," which scorched the airwaves in the late ’60s.

When Ian was 15, she was already a huge star, thanks to the the interracial love song, tender in lyrics and fragile in its delivery. After setting up the sweetness, Ian caves in to social pressure, singing, "I can’t see you anymore, baby… I’m only society’s child." It was a very big deal when this nation had barely moved beyond treating civil rights marchers to axe handles and fire-hoses.

In 1967, a song like that was enough to get earn your own FBI dossier. The title song of Ian’s most recent CD, God and the FBI (Windham Hill), is a scathing look not only at her own file as revealed, albeit in expurgated form, but also the very long ones that were kept on her parents. The song has an ornery groove, telling just what she learned about what they learned, delivered in incredulous rhyme. For having the temerity to believe in civil rights, her folks were snooped on for enough years to prevent her father from ever winning tenure as a teacher.

You can glean details on this experience at Ian’s website, www.janisian.com. In addition to writing articulate and moving lyrics, Ian has written a vast number of magazine pieces, which are posted on the site. Some are biographical, some are whimsically political and others are practical good advice for people who want to follow her into the singer/songwriter trade.

In an interview via cell phone from somewhere in Airportland, Ian talked about the importance of that website. On the message board, one person enthused about getting a prize for being the 200,000th hit. Other site owners would die for numbers like that. Ian replied with surprise, "Really? It’s actually closer to 300,000. We started a new count when we changed ISPs." She says she feels strongly that the Internet is helping to build communities among like-minded folks. "People meet each other on the message board. Some have become friends and taken vacations together, following a part of my concert tour." Ian posts to the message board herself as time permits, the next best thing to having her private e-mail addy.

Ian turned 50 in April, and yes, you can relive the event with pictures and prose on the site. But really, how does she feel about it? "Great. I’ve been getting ready for it since before I turned 40! I realized I would never be 19 again and decided I should progress with dignity." She has been making changes all along, she says, to help her "do more of what I love." For example, "I gave up micromanaging. I also decided that I wasn’t going onstage to be liked, that I was just going to do my job, which is sing my songs. When a performer panders to an audience, there is an element of disdain in it, and the audience reads that real fast."

As a kid, moving all over Jersey as her father’s teaching contract failed to be renewed time and again, she grew used to the scrutiny of the FBI peeping at the house through spy glasses. Yet, there was one secret she kept to herself for a long time. "I was outed in 1976. I stopped performing, because I didn’t want to be a freak show, and that’s how it was treated back then." Today Ian is very open about her more-than-a-decade commitment to her partner Pat, "which," she adds, "shows no signs of flagging!" She also says the best part of being out is the people she meets after the shows. "Couples come up to me who have been together for 20, 30, even 50 years!" They share the memories of being scared and ashamed and the warmth of finally honoring their true selves.

Janis Ian, Sat., June 23, 7 and 10 p.m., $25, at the Point, 880 W. Lancaster Ave., Bryn Mawr, 610-527-0988, www.atthepoint.com.

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