A couple of days ago, the day after Charlie Watts died, a large storm in the musical teacup, I went into my new local, The Telegraph just behind Newcastle Central Station. 'Who died yesterday?' I asked the young barmaids as I went across to the jukebox as is my wont. 'The old woman in Gogglebox?' came the reply. It put everything into perspective.
For those of us who live in musical worlds events like this are a priority. Something important. For those who loved the band it's a moment to sift through their memories, going back decades and reflect on their lives. For those musical lovers who can't stand The Stones, and there are more of those than you might think, it is an ordeal as their social media feeds are flooded with their songs and videos. For the world itself it is a mere drop in the ocean. It keeps spinning regardless.
Fast forward in my world to Friday. Early afternoon. I am just about finished for the week and pop into the record shop across the road from me to have a quick browse on the way to the supermarket. I see Travis's The Man Who at the front of one of the racks. It's an album I listened to on countless occasions when It came out in 1999, but on CD like pretty much everyone else. I'm buying it.
The shop is empty apart from me and a shop assistant. I take it to him and ask him not to tell anyone. We proceed to have a conversation about guilty pleasures, Brutpop, and how it has not stood the time well and records from the time that have endured better, The Auteurs and Trip Hop in both our cases, Space and Grebo in his. We agree on the general worthlessness of Oasis twenty five years on and how Parklife though great at the time seems rather jingoistic and misplaced now. He assures me that my secret is safe with him. An altogether classic record shop conversation. There are very few things that I love more.
But now I'm back home and I'm listening to The Man Who and I don't feel guilty at all. It's an album I loved at the time and still love. Travis were not at the time and are still not the most credible band in the world but if they have a legacy it is probably mainly down to this record. A quiet modest thing, their second album choc full of songs that were sizeable hits and made them briefly one of the biggest bands in Britain.
Travis had formed in Glasgow, pretty much ten years before they put this out and still tour and release records. They're a four piece Rock band of the traditional kind. Their lead singer and main songwriter Fran Healy is a small unassuming type, the kind of fellow you would walk passed in the street without giving a second glance. The others seem equally unremarkable. Bassist Dougie Payne was married to actress Kelly McDonald and they had two children together though sadly they separated in 2017. Lead guitarist Andy Dunlop is an unflashy, workmanlike player. Drummer Neil Primose had a bad swimming accident in 2003 but thankfully made a full recovery. And that's probably all the biographical information you need.
They're an unpretentious meat and potatoes operation. They were probably rather surprised to find themselves so feted in 1999. They called their next record The Invisible Band after all. Their songs follow conventional structures and are vaguely melancholic often but never slip over the line to maudlin self pity. They might be described as wet. There were rather a lot of slightly wet, slightly glum bands that emerged after Brit Pop, Sterophonics, Coldplay Geneva. None of them ever really seemed to deserve to hit Oasis, Blur, Radiohead or Verve status. They seemed to be marking time while waiting around for the next big thing, Coldplay strangely, perhaps the wettest of the whole bunch turned out to be that.
I've had the songs from The Man Who going round my head since I bought it. That's pretty much the definition of a successful album. Perhaps the song I go for least is the one that broke the record big, Why Does It Always Rain On Me? I prefer and think there's greater staying power elsewhere, on Driftwood, Writing To Reach You, and Turn which come across almost as manifestos. But nothing really lets the side down. It's a highly consistent album.
Perhaps what I liked about Travis is their humility. Dougie Payne has described the record as the hangover of Brit Pop. The gentleness and tenderness of the record came as a relief frankly after all the full on hubris and brashness of those years. It's a warm, sincere, yearning record and that's hardly a bad thing. I'm glad I finally own it on vinyl and will play it regularly regardless of what this says about my credibility.
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