A maverick talent returns
Natalie Merchant
Royal Albert Hall
From the return of The X-Files to All Saints’ unlikely comeback, the Nineties revival is well and truly upon us. While some aspects of that decade’s culture should probably be forgotten, Natalie Merchant, who released
Tigerlily, her cult record, in 1995, is a worthy survivor – and still able to sell out the Royal Albert Hall.
The 52-year-old last played the venue a quarter of a century ago, as part of New York alt-rock band 10,000 Maniacs. After honing her craft for 12 years, Merchant struck out on her own in 1993, forging an unpredictable songwriting path with seven critically acclaimed solo albums.
It all began with Tigerlily, which sold more than five million copies and justified last November’s reworking,
Paradise Is There – but this show was no nostalgia-fest. A string trio and accordion replaced Merchant’s more familiar electric guitars and organs, while orchestral arrangements turned her older material into songs newly hewn. Dressed in a black floaty dress, perfect for her trademark spinning and whirling, her grey hair worn long down her back, Merchant proved a mesmerising presence.
It is a feat to create an intimate atmosphere in a venue so large. Merchant used her honeyed alto, now more textured and grainy, to convey emotion with dynamics and timbre.
On River, a song about her late friend River Phoenix, softer passages gave rise to a rich unleashing of power as her voice filled the Hall. Wonder was stripped back, allowing her timeless lyrics to come to the fore.
Merchant combined avant-garde dance moves with conducting the band – hushing the percussion for a quiet moment in Texas, an eviscerating song about the Bush dynasty – which she managed with the same control that she has brought to her entire career.
When her activism crept into the music, it was never heavy-handed. An amusing commentary about a man filled with “bile, bigotry and hatred” preceded political tracks dedicated to someone she was too embarrassed to name (Donald Trump, perhaps?).
It is always risky to re-arrange adored songs in a way that makes them unrecognisable, but gorgeous string filigrees and mournful plucked codas brought songs from Tigerlily and
Ophelia, her 1998 follow-up, to life. As her spellbound audience swayed, it felt that we were in the presence of one of a rare breed: an artist who has never compromised but instead evolved with integrity.
Merchant dedicated political tracks to someone she was too embarrassed to name. Donald Trump, perhaps?