"In England they hold bands accountable for every lyric," says Lombardo, by way of explaining his pro-British stance. He was speaking on the phone from El Paso, Texas, where the band was on tour. "In America, they don't even care that most music takes a really anti-social stance -- that most songs on the radio today equate romance with power and dominance. I mean, when did anyone ever chastise Michael Jackson about his incredibly sexist lyrics, for instance?"

It's easy for Lombardo to talk about accountability, however. His band, 10,000 Maniacs, is riding the crest of critical success, and with good reason. Its first major-label album release, The Wishing Chair (Elektra), is a rare piece of art, full of folk-influenced guitar, gentle mandolin, rock 'n' roll underpinnings and evocative, sensitive lyrics. It sounds like nothing else on the radio, yet its beautiful melodies and emotional layers of content are haunting, ambiguous and compelling. (The band plays Saturday at the Berkeley Square in Berkeley and Sunday at The Stone in San Francisco.)

Many of the complex instrumental backdrops on songs by 10,000 Maniacs give the illusion of virtuosity, but Lombardo claims that almost everyone in the band only started playing their instruments in college or later.

"People do seem to think we're all 'real' musicians,'' he says, "but it's really perseverance and fortitude -- four years of doing nothing else but play. We've gotten a lot better, but also, we believe in a kind of minimalist thing -- that playing less is more. I think sometimes people confuse minimalism with vast amounts of talent."

The Wishing Chair is full of consistently strong music, with a noticeable thread of American traditional values, a hearkening back to the late-'60s British folk group Fairport Convention, and a certain country-Byrds chiming-guitar sound reminiscent of current college radio faves R.E.M.

"I think the R.E.M. comparisons are inevitable," Lombardo shrugs. "In a live setting no one can understand the lyrics (of either R.E.M. or 10,000 Maniacs), so they talk a lot about (Maniacs lead singer Natalie Merchant) using her voice as an instrument, like R.E.M. Also, there is a similarity in subject matter -- both bands have this nostalgia for Americana, a sadness about the institutions that have dematerialized before our eyes."

Almost every member of 10,000 Maniacs is involved in songwriting, with Merchant supplying all the lyrics. ("I gave up writing lyrics entirely when I saw how great hers were," Lombardo said with a sigh.) The subject matter ranges from two strong anti-war anthems, My Mother the War and the lovely, ironic Grey Victory, to a song about a burnt-out furniture factory, Maddox Table.

"None of our songs could be considered traditional love songs," Lombardo says proudly. "I think people are pretty burnt out on drums and synthesizers and music that whines on and on about romance."

10,000 Maniacs was pretty sick of such music when it formed more than four years ago. The group met doing college radio at a Jamestown Community College station in New York, which is fitting for a band whose career owes much of its life to college radio formats and independent record labels (records with no major label contract).

"We pressed our first record, Human Conflict #5, ourselves, a kind of vanity-press-type thing," Lombardo says. "We recorded it at a college engineering room, with people banging on the doors telling us to get lost the entire time. We were pleased with it, but it's hardly a high quality artifact."

Lombardo sent a tape of the album to BBC disk-jockey John Peel in Britain, who fast became a fan of the band, guaranteeing them critical success in Europe. But after putting out a record on Atlanta's Press Records (Secrets of the I Ching), the band has finally moved into the big time with Elektra. "You can't lose money forever," jokes Lombardo.

"We're still in debt over Secrets, but you can't be too mad at independent record labels," he adds. "Like they always tell you, you get airplay, and you get credibility from an independent record. Even if you don't make a cent, it does represent a foot in the door."

With The Wishing Chair a furious contender for album-of-the-year honors in critics' polls, and its first national tour nearing completion, Lombardo can reflect on the vicissitudes of the past with equanimity. "You have to keep remembering that there's a point in your life when just having a record out is such a big deal," he says. "I mean, when we got the first test pressing of our little vanity album Conflict, we were opening champagne, we were so proud. That was a real summit for us.''

It's all a question of quality, and 10,000 Maniacs are committed to remaining accountable to their fans, major label or no. "I mean, it's nice if people say they really dig your record," Lombardo concludes. "But it's not that impressive if they then turn around and listen to records you hate. It may sound snobbish, but I don't want our record even sitting in a collection next to the new album by the Starship."