A Soothing and Safe Sound

There are certain artists who enter into a covenant with their fans, a social compact of the concert hall. It goes something like this: The artist plays exactly what the audience has paid to hear--nothing more, nothing less--and all the audience has to do in return is participate in some harmless ritual that usually involves dancing meekly. Everybody wins, no one gets hurt.

That’s how it all went down at Natalie Merchant’s Royce Hall performance on Tuesday. The former lead singer for the band 10,000 Maniacs, who long ago made the transition from ‘80s pop star to adult-contemporary chanteuse, turned in a reliably predictable show, hitting all the dramatic notes that her fans wanted to hear. The crowd sang along a bit, shimmied a little, and then everyone went home.

As a solo artist, Merchant has always stressed solace over confrontation. The protagonists in her songs are either nurturers or lost souls looking for succor and peace.

For Merchant, that safe place is her own interior universe. During a song from her new album, “Motherland,” Merchant sang about building “a levee deep inside” to ward off hurt. Her wispy ballads and tastefully restrained mid-tempo rockers provide their own comfort zone, the melodies floating in an amniotic fluid of gently strummed guitars and a tinkling piano.

At Royce, Merchant played her assigned role--part Shiva goddess, part wayfaring soul, her earthy sensuality tempered by finely honed maternal instincts. She was a wanton spirit, twirling and gyrating ecstatically, sculpting her arms in devotional supplication to the music.

But there was a disconnect between Merchant’s appealing spontaneity and the foursquare arrangements coming from her quintet. Merchant’s new material is milder and less compelling than what’s come before, and her band did little to inject any life into it.

What’s missing is the frisky optimism of her previous incarnation as band leader. The few Maniacs songs Merchant chose to include--”Hey Jack Kerouac,” “These Are Days”--rocked buoyantly.

All the while, the crowd sat there, taking pleasure in Merchant’s pleasure. Merchant, who was perhaps a little unnerved by the inertia, entreated everyone to stand up and dance for at least two numbers. She seemed surprised that they stood until the encores were completed.

But who could blame anyone for slumping in their chairs? Merchant’s music is emotional Xanax, soothing to the point of indifference.