Natalie Merchant has a pronouncement: "I don't have the gift of the prophecy," she cries. It is difficult to agree. Merchant is singing This House Is On Fire, a song that warns you can "pass wrong for right and right for wrong, people only stand that for so long" and tells of a vengeful "wild fire catching in the whip of the wind". The song is Arabic in feel, delivered under a backdrop of searchlights and red lights. Crucially, it was written before September 11. An eerie coincidence, but one that casts a long shadow over this gig.
It has been a long and sometimes hard road from indie darling 10,000 Maniacs to Merchant's current, more mainstream appeal. In between lie sales of 6m and a much gossiped-about relationship with Michael Stipe, but Merchant, 38 and single, has never seemed comfortable - and it's this unease that fuels her creative spark. This House Is On Fire is a typical psychic jolt. Delivering her words in a translucent, awkwardly hanging dress, she is uncannily reminiscent of Sissy Spacek's Carrie: a feminine force of spectacular power, in this case a voice and words that can be soothing as a favourite pillow or as painful as a blast of mace.
However, for much of the two hours Merchant is subdued and the seated audience's reverence hardly helps to lift the funereal atmosphere. Merchant's between-song banter is funny, impersonating Sibyl Fawlty, but slightly awkward, adding to the songs' conjuring of foreboding and unease.
Unlike modern female icons from Morissette to Madonna, Merchant has never had a gimmick; she is bound to her muse and mood. When she covers difficult terrain, from factories to abuse, you simply have to go with her. But when she starts singing Kumbaya (My Lord) acapella, it's hard not to think she may have been on the road too long.
The second half livens up with the brilliant Put the Law On You, with Merchant taking refuge in Stevie Nicks-like twirls but dismissing requests for earlier, less fraught material. Finally she concedes and gives us the Maniacs' Hey Jack Kerouac. It seems to come from a time when her America was more carefree, and the song creates a party atmosphere. By contrast, the closing, haunting Motherland exposes Uncle Sam's flaws while clinging to him for protection. The comparison is a marvellous artistic statement, but marks an uneven gig.
·Natalie Merchant plays Colston Hall, Bristol (0117-922 3686) tomorrow, then tours.
