by: Laura Lee Davis, page 105

"I don't think I'll be having a pig suckling on my breast in a photo session too soon." Natalie Merchant grins and looks healthily confident that this is a statement she won't be taking a U-turn on. Well, it's always an option for the modern girl, I suppose.

Sitting down to dinner in a trendy Rotterdam nightspot, we speculate on the weird and wonderful existence of the "female solo artist." Having come straight from a support slot to Sting at the city's own version of Wembley Arena, Natalie suggests that the life of the "fsa" isn't easy. Firstly, there's the fact that most people see "female" as some kind of genre, like rock, indie, or easy listening, without once imagining that the dickless half of society might possess a variety of artistic talents. But while we're at it, she doesn't much like the term "solo artist" either. "More an independent singer-songwriter," she smiles, well aware that the chances of her being let off the "female solo artist" tag are pretty much non-existent.

You might think this is somewhat ungrateful behaviour from the singer who left 10,000 Maniacs for the single life and who has spent the past year plugging her magnificent solo (sorry!) debut, Tigerlily, but Merchant was never going to be the spotlit star who wanted to see 20-foot statues of herself floating down the Thames. As she mesmerises the gathered Sting fans with an all-too-brief set of Tigerlily songs, a sultry cover of Fever, and a beefed-up version of the Maniacs' These Are Days, it's hardly as if Merchant lacks confidence or, more importantly, the voice to carry herself as a solo artist. However, as she aproaches her first British tour in several years, Merchant is happy to progress at an elegant (and much slower) pace than your usual over-marketed pop product.

"Everything about the record was very low-key: low-tech, low production. In fact, I insisted that Elektra not hype the record because I thought it wouldn't stand up to that kind of publicity. I just wanted it to be quietly released. I guess that's why the first single off the album, Carnival, is still being played on the radio in America yet I haven't been on the cover of a single magazine."

While we at the Time Out Towers found it hard to get Tigerlily off the CD player when it was released in June last year, others accused Merchant of self-indulgence and at times even arrogance. How anyone could have found such harsh faults in the grace, gentle melody and heartfelt singing which distinguish a track like the album's opener, San Andreas Fault, is a mystery.

"It had a good reaction from people who buy records," says Merchant. "From the people who get given dozens of records a week to review? I'd say I had some of the worst reviews of my entire career. But then some people said it was the best work I'd ever done. Spin ridiculed me and Rolling Stone gave it one-and-a-half stars," she laughs. "It's a very subtle record, I didn't expect people to take such offense to it. I expected them to either like it or ignore it."

While the album certainly smoothed out Merchant's songwriting, taking the best of the Maniacs and creating spaces for the solo artist (sorry, again) to blossom, the live show is testimony to her magnificent voice: tenderness, weariness and passion fill the sports stadium as it soars into the rafters and curls around the hot-dog stands. And although the stick-in-the-muds among you might think Merchant's twirling figure just ain't the same if it isn't set against a backdrop of Maniacs are in for a pleasant surprise next week; her current band are as tight and exhilarating as the live Maniacs experience at its very best.

"If I wasn't fronting it, this would probably be a funk band. It makes for some really interesting interpretations -- more rhythmic and a little bit more danceable. The people in my band are pretty free-willed. That's the reason I sought them out. I didn't just want a bunch of people who wanted to pick up the paycheck, but people who really put themselves into the music. That was my greatest fear about becoming a solo artist: I knew I wouldn't just sit at a piano, I wanted to collaborate and I didn't want people who saw being in my backing band as a matter of punching in a timecard. So I give my band a hell of a lot of freedom and I just have to trust that their talent will work for me."