Music Express - July 1989

Unlocking the Zoo

The lilting, evocative music and poignant, thought-provoking lyrics of 10,000 Maniacs have broken down the early resistance their contentious name engendered. Singer Natalie Merchant talks about the joys of sucess and sheds some light on 'Blind Man's Zoo'.

by: Kerry Doole

A stroll through the back pages of 10,000 Maniacs' press clippings makes fascinating reading. In 1984, they were the embodiment of the phrase "cult band", destined to be press darlings but doomed to be popular duds.

Take that name - please!, as they must surely have shrieked at various times in their eight-year-long career. Sure it's catchy and memorable, but so are some unspeakable afflictions. Can you imagine some silver-tongued DJ on adult contemporary radio intoning, "That was Anita Baker, and next the pretty new single from 10,000 Maniacs"? Never.

Launching an independent record label called Christian Burial and calling your first two records Human Conflict Number Five and Secrets Of The I Ching won't exactly bring major label A&R men running to your hometown of Jamestown, New York, either.

Then there was their sound and image. English faves (from the likes of Gang Of Four, Joy Division) slamdanced into Jamaican reggae classics (The Melodians, Maytals) and originals that weaved between country, bluegrass and folk. The singer: a pretty, poetic and introverted teenager backed by a motley looking crew of guys that clearly don't subscribe to GQ. The few lyrics that can be deciphered amidst the sonic swirl and Natalie Merchant's unorthodox delivery sound intelligently evocative, so the whole package represents a journalist's dream.

The real surprise is that now, in 1989, Blind Man's Zoo, the third major-label album from these same 10,000 Maniacs is tipped to sell over a million copies. Yet they remain critical favorites. Bizarre!

"When our first record came out, if you'd have told us we'd ever sell a million records, we'd have laughed you out of the room," smiles Natalie. Back then, 10,000 Maniacs surely felt destined to life and death in an underground music grotto. In a 1984 interview, guitarist Robert Buck confessed that, "My uncle Charlie read we were a cult band, so he thought we were playing for the Moonies, and that was why we had no money!"

No longer. This is now a group that guests on the big TV talk shows, that gets a full-page color ad in the Village Voice, that stayed on the Billboard charts for an incredible 75 weeks with their last album, In My Tribe. They're not just bigger, they're better. In their own eyes, and most others.

"From The Wishing Chair (1985's major-label debut) to In My Tribe to Blind Man's Zoo, there's been a genuine improvement from album to album. That evolution will hopefully continue. I believe we're better songwriters, better musicians. Right down to the packaging, it's all much more confident now," Natalie insists.

She feels no nostalgia for the days of hip amateurism. "Everything we have ever done has been under scrutiny, and that can be a little frustrating. There are embarrassing things in the past, like independent records, bad stage performances and all that. You wish it could have happened in private. Most people go to university, study for a while, then have their first opportunity in the field they're interested in. Their promotion takes place in private."

Growing up in public may have been painful, but Merchant is confident that 10,000 Maniacs have reached musical adulthood. "I think most critics will acknowledge that this LP is more mature, and I think that's fine. So many groups put out album after album, and always their debut album is their best one ever.

"I know that is not true with us. There are songs of quality on The Wishing Chair, but they don't compare to [new song] Dust Bowl. Those other albums seemed a little nervous and fast. It seems as if we have assessed who we are now, and are finding our own place."

The "this is our best record yet" riff is a common and tiresome one, but, in the Maniacs case, it rings true. Not that the earlier efforts are stale tofu. Far from it, and those just now falling prey to 10,000 Maniacs' seductive charms are strongly advised to investigate The Wishing Chair and In My Tribe. Play all three in order of release, and you will hear the work of a band finding its own voice without losing its youthful vigor or power.

Natalie now distances herself from The Wishing Chair era.

"Half that album was very nostalgic lyrically. I have to consider that some of the lyrics were written when I was 16-years-old. How can you really know your literary voice at 16? I think I was doing more borrowing then, as I hadn't experienced enough."

Natatie's voice always seemed to waltz in from another time and place, a feeling reinforced by her performance style. Whirling around the stage, her long dark tresses whipping through the air, she'd appear possessed, as if she were channeling the spirit of some medieval, maypole-dancing maiden. Between-song pauses seemed to unnerve her and she'd temporarily revert to the soft-spoken, rather introverted creature she was off-stage.

In the confines of the small bohemian clubs 10,000 Maniacs would play in those earlier days, the effect would be quite riveting. Elliott Lefko, a Toronto , promoter who booked the band on several occasions, recalls an a cappella encore in which Natalie, "blew people away. Her voice is clearly one of the best, and I could see then people liking the band on a large scale."

He's less charitable about some of the other band members ("10,000 Egomaniacs!"), but we'll dispense with band/promoter disputes.

In My Tribe was to be the breakthrough record, but it got off to a near fatal start with the choice of a cover of Cat Stevens' banal hippy anthem Peace Train as the first single, much to the band's dismay. "We were very insulted by that," fumes Natalie. "The label's attitude was that people wouldn't listen to our own songs because of the name. That was a mistake."

A mistake compounded by Stevens' controversial reincarnation as religious fanatic Yusuf ("Kill Rushdie") Islam. So much for peace and love!

"We'll never play the song again," Natalie says emphatically, "and I'm going to ask for it to be taken off the album. But I tell everyone it is a good excuse to never play it again, as I never liked doing it!"

Fortunately, word of the quality of the rest of the album eventually got out, hence its phenomenal run on the charts. 75 weeks is a milestone generally reserved for Mikey, not a "cult band."

"It felt like it was word of mouth; people buying the album and telling their friends. Being on all the TV shows was important as well." As was the, video. The innovative clip for Like The Weather stands as one of the genre's finest moments.

While Natalie Merchant is clearly the focal point of 10,000 Maniacs (and this article), she'll strenuously resist any suggestion this is a case of Natalie and sidemen. Rightly so. Guitarist Buck, keyboardist Dennis Drew and Jerome Augustyniak all contribute music to songs on Blind Man's Zoo, the line-up being rounded out by bassist Steve Gustafson. Mention also has to be made of original member, guiding spirit and songwriter John Lombardo, who left just prior to In My Tribe. According to Natalie, the band's earlier years of poverty took their toll.

"John was 32-years-old and couldn't afford to live anywhere but in the spare room of his father's house. That hurt his ego, as it should have done, and I think that's why he quit." Lombardo now has his own worthy group, in Buffalo, The Billups.

Media attempts to lump Merchant into those swelling ranks of femme singer/songwriters raise her ire. "I'm not just Natalie Merchant. I'm a member of a group of people who write songs and perform them together. To me, that contradicts a journalist who sees me as 'a woman in rock'. I'm a woman who collaborates with men to make music, and I think that collaboration between the sexes says so much more than being called a female singer/songwriter. There are vast differences between ourselves, even amongst the boys - sorry, men - in the band. This male/female balance is partly what makes it work. I'm sure Robert, Steve, Dennis and Jerry must get irritated to be in an article on women in rock. Those articles are sexist and dangerous.

"No one talks about 'men in rock'. Besides, I never think of 10,000 Maniacs as rock."

As the band's profile has increased, so has Natalie's lyrical range. Not for her the self-pityingly personal material of so many singer/songwriters. The world is her oyster, and she is concerned with the grit inside the shell - greed, violence, corruption, pain. Blind Man's Zoo's mandate encompasses the Vietnam War, the Iran-Contra scandal, pollution, colonial exploitation, capitalism, poverty, unwanted pregnancy. Heavy stuff, indeed, but kept compelling by Merchant's ability to personalize and poeticize these situations.

"I'm writing about situations in the world that frustrate me and, hopefully, frustrate my audience. And about things that bring me joy, and, hopefully, bring them joy. I've always felt my role was to communicate. I'd always think, hypothetically, that if people buy this album and I can speak to them, what would I say?

"I wouldn't indulge myself by telling them about the woes in my life or bore them with something so petty. Success, to me, is that there is a transference, not just of information - though some of the lyrics contain certain information - but of emotion."

The only apparent obstacle in 10,000 Maniacs' continued commercial and creative ascension is Natalie Merchant's own restless ambition.

"Already I've defined that my limitations are not pop music. At 25 I've written a song, Jubilee, and had it scored for a chamber orchestra. I could be interested in directing and scoring a film, collaborating with people on animation, maybe creating educational devices for children. I've been working on a children's book, which will be the first thing I've ever had published. A lot of the early writing I did was quite embarrassing, like the early albums, but I'm glad that's one creative outlet I've been able to keep to myself.