I look around the room-- a gymnasium moonlighting as a convention center. Needless to say, this is my first "trad-rock" convention (I lost a card game at Pitchfork HQ). The gym is packed with 17-year-old British boys (I threw the game) cheering with youthful enthusiasm. I take a quick survey of the t-shirts in the room-- Ocean Colour Scene, Travis, Kula Shaker, and Oasis. One boy sports the words TRAD IS RAD on his chest, but the more humble TRAD'S NOT THAT BAD seems to be the tee of choice.
I have no idea what the fuck is going on. So I ask the kid next to me, "Hey, you, what's this trad?" He meets my question with a blank stare. I explain, "I'm from out of town." Still no response. "I'm American." Only now does my ignorance seem feasible. "Oh." He finally opens up. "Trad-rock is... well... it's not really Britpop. But you know trad bands... like the Chieftains-- they play traditional music. So, trad-rock is really traditional rock and roll." To clarify, I ask him, "So, you guys are into the Stones and Led Zeppelin?" He laughs a knowing laugh and replies slowly, "Don't you see? We're living in a post-Oasis world."
I take a loop around and see a listening station. Fran Healy of Travis is scheduled as the convention's keynote speaker, and I haven't even heard their third album, The Invisible Band. So I put on the headphones and sit down.
The opening track and first single, "Sing," shows off a banjo, and rejoices with a honeyball of a singalong chorus that proclaims, "The love you bring won't mean a thing/ Unless you/ Sing, sing, sing." As cheesy as the song is, there's no denying that Healy can sing-- his voice is both easy on the ears and passionately expressive. It somehow comforts with a wisdom and maturity that his banal lyrics ultimately betray.
"Dear Diary" opens with the lines, "Dear Diary, what is wrong with me?/ 'Cos I'm fine between the lines/ Be not afraid/ Help is on its way." While I'd be embarrassed to read that in an actual diary-- let alone in liner notes-- the sparse production is precise to an almost chilling effect, and Healy's impressive falsetto pulls it off convincingly. Fran also keeps the song short enough that you're more likely to remember the effect of his gentle, wavering vocals than his questionable, drippy sentiments.
By the third track, The Invisible Band's feeling pretty predictable. The songs are solid, but the band seem more to have found a formula that works than an individual voice. Travis' roots lie in Paul McCartney (think Wings rather than the Beatles), and post-Style Council Paul Weller, but they also seem influenced by contemporaries such as Oasis and The Bends-era Radiohead. The guitar milks a few melodic themes, so that many of the songs lack distinction.
The tracks here are supported by a fuller sound and more complex arrangements than on either of Travis' first two albums. Banjos, synthetic orchestrations, and studio add-ins are employed to create a lush sound that's enjoyable at the cost of the punch of Good Feeling or the dark mood of The Man Who. They're all competently played, but never really inspiring.
"Flowers in the Window (for Nora)" is a rare break in the formula. The driving chorus, "Oh, wow, look at you now, flowers in the window/ It's such a lovely day, and I'm glad you feel the same," is a bit ridiculous, which for a band like Travis is a serious risk. But on an album that otherwise feels too safe, their grand victory romp seems innocently fun. Imagine a melody similar to the Lovin' Spoonful's "Summer in the City" if it were written like a showtune. And performed by Glaswegians.
I don't mind Travis. There are many far worse bands, and it's hard to go wrong with a humble, talented singer, a band who likes rock, Nigel Godrich and some synthesizers. But Travis doesn't ever seem to say much, so I don't think I'm going to stick around for Healy's keynote speech. The music makes me want to listen, but I just can't hear much of impact in the vague stream of lyrical clichés: "The grass is always greener on the other side"; "There is no wrong, there is no right"; "I'd pray to God if there was heaven, but heaven seems so very far from here"; "You are one in a million, and I love you, so let's watch the flowers grow"; "When your bird has flown away, she was never meant to stay"; "Everyday in every way I'm falling..." Such pleasant sentiments will do well on the charts, but regardless of how many weeks they battle it out with Muse and the Stereophonics, it won't be enough for history to notice them. The Invisible Band, indeed. It's poignant, almost.
