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Welcome, friends, to the Me-And-My Shadow Tour.

When two of Jamestown, New York's 10,000 Maniacs check in from the road - guitarist John Lombardo from Ames, lowa, singer Natalie Merchant a few days later from New Orleans - the band is finishing up a leg of Southern and Midwestern shows opening for R.E.M. It's not enough that they shared a producer - Joe Boyd - this year, or that their respective albums, the Georgians Fables of the Reconstruction and the Maniacs The Wishing Chair, each in their way bared a significant chunk of New American Rocks spiritual core. Or that Merchant, resident Maniacs lyricist, and R.E.M.'s Michael Stripe share a mutual disregard for the melodic and grammatic conventions of hit factory songwriting.

No, they go out on tour together, with the Maniacs enlightening R.E.M. crowds who are delighted to discover a new band of similar honesty and further confounding critics who can't understand their differences.

"Their audience seems to be extremely receptive to what we do," notes Lombardo. "There's actual recognition of songs, almost as if they've been hyped in advance to what we're about."

"We actually had a standing ovation in Nashville," Merchant echoes. "lt feels like our crowds are pretty much the same. The comparison a lot of people are making is in the feeling and the honesty of the music."

No doubt Joe Boyd made the same connection. The Maniacs actually approached him about producing their major label debut before R.E.M. made his acquaintance. They had already turned down Elektra suggestions like Eno's engineer Daniel Lanois, Sade's producer Robin Millar and the King of LA, laid-back Peter Asher.

"A lot of their production values can be confined to a real Eighties sound," explains Lombordo (or in Asher's case, a real Seventies sound). "You know, big snare drums, pushing a lot of the instrumentation into the background. In our music, we always hoped that it wouldn't be immediately identifiable to an era or particular movement. You listen to Joe's productions like early Fairport Convention and they sound as vital today as they did 15 years ago."

The associations have got out of hand, though. 10,000 Maniacs at least share a spiritual bond with R.E.M. Natalie Merchant admits that she's listened as closely to English folk singers like Sandy Denny and June Tabor as she has to Forties jazz singers. But "New Order fronted by Deborah Harry"? And, John Lombardo claims, that's a direct quote. It's been enough for Merchant to consider giving up interviews entirely.

"l've never even heard a Blondie album all the way through," Merchant protests. "And when I see images of her, I can't imagine anyone thinking there's a similarity. Sandy Denny, I can understand that. I've listened to English, Scottish and lrish folk singers, I've adopted their colouring."

"But these comparisons, it takes so much of the meaning out of our music," groans Lombardo. "We started out with the post-'77 thing, doing Joy Division and Gang Of Four covers. We did a lot of reggae music, the Mighty Diamonds. And we gradually worked our music into it. We have been just as influenced by Andy Gill as by Richard Thompson. But because we sound vaguely like something from the past, people choose to make the more obscure connections than the obvious ones."

Making The Wishing Chair - 10,000 Maniac's major label followup to their homegrown indie hits Human Conflict Number Five (1982) and the full-length Secrets Of The I Ching (1983) - was a learning experience for the band. The earlier records had been cut on shoestring budgets with college students manning the board.

Confronted with 21st Century technology and Joe Boyd's Zen style of production (Lombardo: "He'll make suggestions, present choices, but he won't tell you how to mike a guitar"), the Maniacs admittedly froze in spots. Slower, more stately numbers like Lilydale and the marching band-style waltz Arbor Day lack the band's 3D live drive, as if something essential had been held in check; their pristine delicacy feels too brittle to the touch, like dainty pop-ice sculptures.

Truer to the native animation in their stage act are the tangled guitars of Can't lgnore the Train and the new improved remakes of Grey Victory and the anti-war agony prayer, My Mother The War, from Secrets Of The I Ching. Lombardo notes that Grey Victory only got on the album because the Maniacs needed to recut a version of the I Ching track for a lip-sync spot on a German TV show. They quickly bashed off a new Grey Victorywith Boyd, who so thoroughly dug its bright spontaneity that he included it on the album.

"On this US tour," Merchant admits, "a lot of people who've heard the album say we have so much more vitality live. Well, yes, we were very careful and cautious when we made the album. And our music is controlled to some extent. Robert (Buck, lead guitarist) and I are usually upfront and we're both very controlled musicians, even live.

"For instance, I'm a symmetrical dancer. If I don't reproduce on the right a motion I've made on the left, I feel out of balance. I feel as if I've failed in the dance. And if I'm not right on the note, if my pitch wavers, I feel like I've failed." She pauses thoughtfully. "There are times, though, when I wish I could abandon that control."

"People say we're aloof," Lombardo continues, "but it's not far out by design. We're being extremely honest, we're taking a great chance. Because we come from a very hick American town."

Indeed, in their early days, the Maniacs - Lombardo, Merchant, Buck, pianist Dennis Drew, bassist Steven Gustafson, drummer Jerry Augustyniak - played bar for crowds already into terminal "Spinal Tap" fantasies. "So we became very internalized. And when we got to the clubs in New York, we figured 'We've gotten this far, let's stick with what we are already.' We gambled on a long shot, that by being true ourselves emotionally and artistically that it would pay off. That's something, I think, England picked up on."

Merchant jokingly refers to the band's early acceptance by John Peel and the UK press - well in advance of the American media - as "the Golden Age of 10,000 Maniacs". Surprisingly, they have also escaped, for the most part, the backlash now in session. Natalie Merchant's abstract arhythmic lyrics and sylph-like swirling may seem too precious at times; the band's solemn Sunday-best decorum on stage takes some getting used to. But no one has ever had just cause to doubt their sincerity or originality.

"I think Mr Peel," as Merchant refers to British pop radio's balding eminence grise, "is repulsed by firm institutions, including the BBC. He likes bands that are independent and not doing music that caters to a projected audience. He liked us because we were such an odd little group from an odd place, completely independent, who did not aspire to a major label deal. He just thought it was really 'precious'. I think that was the word he used."

Buoyed by their English success, 10,000 Maniacs turned to the daunting task of making it at home with renewed vigour. On the R.E.M. tour, Merchant says, "we've been in obscure places like Laramie, Wyoming, and Ames, lowa, where we can go get our own gigs now." In Nashville, the Maniacs got a standing ovation. With English and European tours in the offing for early '86, possibly with Lloyd Cole, they feel ready to take on the world. "I think a bit of R.E.M.'s confidence has rubbed off on us," Merchant laughs.

Out af the shadow -- finally.