The Wishing Chair – 10,000 Maniacs

An underappreciated, gorgeous folk rock jewel.

Before 10,000 Maniacs experienced their moments in the (relative) mainstream with In My Tribe and Our Time in Eden, they had to pay their dues. But they also had to arrive at a sound that suited them. Folk rock seemed to be a great foundation, but what would make them unique? For a few releases, incorporating – and I'm not joking here – dub seemed to be a potential direction. (Enjoy a few examples here and here.) Kudos for a whiter-than-white sextet from upstate New York for giving this a try. And like so many college rock bands in the 1980s, they took multiple cues from the likes of R.E.M. and the Smiths. But on The Wishing Chair, their second full-length release, 10,000 Maniacs found their stride in a precious, occasionally twee sound that drew inspiration from American history and folk tunes that seem to come from both sides of the pond. It's not a stretch to say that Colin Meloy might have, in turn, drawn inspiration from this album, helping to shape the sound and bent of the Decemberists. And since I've used the word twee, a comparison to Belle and Sebastian has to be made, so here it is: While Belle & Sebastian's production can be a bit soft and insular, The Wishing Chair's sound is bright and crisp throughout, highlighting in particular Natalie Merchant's clear voice, which demonstrates impressive confidence and power. And a note about that sound: the album was produced by Joe Boyd, a longtime producer of artists including Fairport Convention, Nick Drake, and Kate and Anna McGarrigle. The pairing of Boyd with 10,000 Maniacs was a natural fit.

The Wishing Chair is at its best when it strives for this crystalline sound. Guitarist Rob Buck deserves a bow for his inimitable, tuneful contribution to the 10,000 Maniacs sound; it's impossible to imagine the group without him. As for the songs themselves, some take inspiration from old folk songs, like "Just As The Tide Was A-Flowing" and "Back O' The Moon." More personal lyrics pop up in "Lilydale," an elegant, lovely song on the joys of visiting cemeteries and musing about the lives of those buried there. The breezy "Cotton Alley" and the kinetic "Maddox Table" particularly show off Merchant's abilities as a storyteller as she takes on different personas aching to have their experiences heard and validated.

The album also includes successfully refined versions of songs from previous albums. The sprightly, lyrically grim paean to nuclear bombs, "Grey Victory," is one such highlight, as is the brisk dance tune "Daktari," a great opportunity for drummer Jerry Augustyniak to shine. However, the inclusion gives The Wishing Chair a bit of a dual identity, partly indicating how far the band has come, but also how they are still struggling to establish a solid foundation for their future. Harder songs like "My Mother the War" (an early favorite originally from Secrets of the I Ching) and "Scorpio Rising" (new for The Wishing Chair) jarringly stand out from the rest of the album's almost baroque sound. These are exceptions, but The Wishing Chair could still be more unified without them.

10,000 Maniacs is known for its forthright political content on contemporary issues including child abuse, depression, environmental dangers, and illiteracy. In My Tribe and Blind Man's Zoo in particular are strewn with this content. In contrast, there are no hot-button politics on The Wishing Chair, only historical accounts. These surface only occasionally on songs like "Grey Victory" and the stately "Among the Americans" (an account of the genocide of Native Americans during America's era of manifest destiny). Moreover, when politics does appear, it tends to be disguised by flowery, almost impressionistic prose. Merchant is more enthusiastic about the poetry in her tales than in the actual events and issues themselves, and this approach fits the music throughout. It's a conscious choice; Merchant repeatedly sings, "Pardon the drapery language I choose" in the political intrigue "Arbor Day," a sentiment that could stand for the whole album.

I'm a rare bird: one who considers The Wishing Chair, from start to end, my favorite 10,000 Maniacs album. It's a precious album, perfect for soft gray spring days. In My Tribe deservedly brought the band a much larger audience, and Our Time in Eden is a gracious, triumphant swan song. But the joy of The Wishing Chair is in discovering an album where the band, after exploring different identities, has landed upon one that works beautifully while still paying homage to its past. It's a hidden treasure, like discovering a whole wing of a colonial house that has been closed to the public for years.