As frontwoman for 10,000 Maniacs, one of the top-rated college rock bands of the late 1980s, Natalie Merchant abandoned a sure thing when she left the group in 1993. It was Merchant's effortless vocals and warm, poppy songs -- combined with the understated musicianship of her partners in the Maniacs -- which made that band such a success.

Although Merchant's debut solo record, "Tigerlily," sold in excess of three million copies, she's never been particularly charismatic as a performer, nor has she pushed too many boundaries with her songwriting. On "Ophelia," due in stores Tuesday, Merchant makes her first attempt at something of a concept album.

"Ophelia" is at many points complex and engaging, although too often Merchant falls back on the safety net of radio-friendly craft. The album opens with the title track, a haunting melody which introduces several female archetypes: a nun, a suffragette, a silnt film diva, a circus girl. During the stormy bridge, Merchant reveals Ophelia herself: "Every pain you'd have/She'd sympathize, dry your eyes/Help you to forget."

Although Merchant is evidently placing emphasis on the power of myth, it's never clear whether we're meant to honor or pity the women she examines. Which is a problem, considering each song seems dedicated to a different archetype, and Merchant never quite makes up her mind. The silent film diva is echoed In "My Skin," where Merchant's vulnerable vocals embody the story of a woman who is so beautiful she finds herself more and more alone. "I've been treated so long as if I'm becoming untouchable," Merchant croons over a bed of elegiac piano chords.

A nun's seemingly placid existance is blown wide open in "Thick as Thieves," in which Merchant chronicles the history of our major religions and the tyranny that has consumed them. For each era, the song twists and changes itself as Merchant's cynicism grows.

Merchant's closing tunes pave the way for a kind of conclusion, beginning with the resolute "Effigy," in which a woman offers herself up for judgment. The melody echoes "My Skin" as Merchant sings "I'm who I appear to me/Put your flaming torches under me." Tibetan devotional singer Yungchen Lhamo's eerie vocalizations close the stark piece.

In "The Living," Merchant goes beyond death as she sings, "I squandered and wasted my time/I don't stand a chance among the living." But in the final track, Dion de Maybelle's "When They Ring Them Golden Bells," a chance at redemption is offered. We are returned to the imagery of the bells, heard in the nun's lines in "Ophelia," representing the option of religious salvation.

Merchant is at her most convincing when she gets into the skin of the stories she's telling. But on tracks like "Life is Sweet," where she portrays an outside narrator trying to comfort an abused girl, her delivery is so cloying, no troubled teen would buy it. On "Breaks Your Heart" and "Kind & Generous," Merchant falls back on the formulas that made her cheerful "Tigerlily" hits so successful -- and uninteresting.

On "King of May," Merchant calls a toast to "the last King of May" in his cardboard crown. This metaphor for the waning of mythology in everyday life is carried throughout the record. Although Ophelia -- Shakespeare's lovesick girl who drowns herself -- is one of the worst models of femininity literature has to offer, Merchant raises some interesting points about the importance of myth in understanding ourselves.

Unfortunately, her concept's not cohesive enough to hold the album together. Despite some shining instrumentation and songwriting, Merchant finds herself overly ambitious at this stage of the game. If she keeps trying, she'll probably nail it someday.

-- Beth Winegarner

This article was originally published in the San Francisco Chronicle.