A Year of Blind Spots: In My Tribe

In My Tribe

10,000 Maniacs

1987

You ever go to a party where you aren't friends with anyone? I have. The most helpful thing you can do is get drunk, but that's obviously not what this blog post is about. I'm talking about the other thing that ends up happening. You find yourself gravitating toward the person you know the best, even if you know them just barely. It's a starting point. You start having fun with this quasi-acquaintance, and then who knows where the night is going to take you?

Natalie Merchant was that partygoer for me this week. I barely know Natalie Merchant. I kinda recognize her name, I kinda recognize a couple of her 1990s kinda-hits. But this is who I'm sticking with. This is my entry into the world of 10,000 Maniacs.

This is absolutely one of those Blind Spots that ended up on the list because I read the name of the band a few times and was like "what are they all about?" I sincerely did not have any fucking clue what 10,000 Maniacs was going to sound like before I hit play this week. I think I was expecting some stupid British art rock à la XTC or Roxy Music. I dunno, the band name "10,000 Maniacs" felt like something along those lines. What the fuck do I know?

So the first song ("What's the Matter Here?") was a sigh of relief. What I heard was a voice I was familiar enough with that it gave me comfort in an uncomfortable situation. This was one of the great voices of the '90s Lilith Fair-style female-led folk rock. I hit Wikipedia. I discovered that the frontwoman was Natalie Merchant. Hell yeah. I guess I know that name. I feel at ease.

Dear Saturday morning reader, if you exist: this is the best album of aYoBS 2023 so far. An endless fucking joy of throwback Americanized Cranberries-core. I love it. I think maybe that I'm ready to declare 10,000 Maniacs one of the most underrated bands of my lifetime, just after one week of listening to it after a lifetime of ignorance.

There's a price of admission, of course. You have to be of a certain age, I think; maybe if you're a little older than me, you're burnt out on the whole wave of female singer-songwriters from Merchant's peer class. But I'd argue that what you will find on In My Tribe is the platonic ideal for this sound. It's not as weird as Tori Amos, but it's not anywhere near as picked apart by pop culture vultures as Alanis Morissette. This is a sound that should've been heralded by the masses but wasn't. Oh well. More for me.

Oh shit. I am just receiving word through my earpiece from secret services that In My Tribe was released in 1987. What!!!! This means three things simultaneously. One, I'm a little too tipsy to be writing this. Two, I don't know shit about the general timeline of music, and Merchant should probably give the go-ahead to the sniper to shoot me down before I do anything worse than this. Three, this means that we're pushing up the needle 100 degrees or so for 10,000 Maniacs on the "Most Influential Bands" scale.

But this doesn't feel like one of those "archeological" things where I'm dusting off old artifacts. That's how I felt last week. This week's Blind Spot feels fresh and new. I really was blind to this band. And when I hear the chill rock R.E.M.-assisted majesty of "Campfire Song," when I hear the epic jangly dream guitars of "Don't Talk," when I get pumped up over a Cat Stevens cover, when I'm getting in wedding mode after the surprisingly joyful "My Sister Rose," when I am taken aback by how upbeat and simple and honest and happy something like "Cherry Tree" is... there's really no other way to describe this album than one of the best of its decade, at the very least.

Thanks for keeping me company, Natalie.