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Teenage Fran Club | |
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Teenage Fran Club | |
But there's no denying that Travis' moonshine-guzzling tractor
engine chugs along on the Rollers' shang-a-lang riffs and swooning
"Na-na-na-shoo-bop-be-doo-bee-doo" choruses. Consequently, Travis succeed where
bands
like, say, Whiteout or The
Supernaturals fail, by mixing the good, the glam and the downright bubbly bits
of the meaty-beaty '60s and the stacked-up '70s.
Which is why it's so confusing that Travis have allowed
themselves to be lumped in with the sluggish abomination of "new grave."
Doubtless it's due to their insistence on occasionally bunging in vaguely
epic Radiohead-y songs like "Good Day To Die" or the frankly dire "Funny
Thing" (essentially U2's "One" left in the larder next to a rather
strong-smelling cheese) or even the heartfuzzyfelt "Wild Horses" strum of "I
Love You Anyways."
According to the Lords Of The Big Coat--it's these few voyages
of the Starship Telecaster that show Travis's serious side, but it's a pointless
distraction from their main manifesto, because all they really wanna do is pop.
And pose, and preen, and play candy-apple pop songs that cause tearful scenes in
city-centre record stores.
Because while admittedly at times Travis appear in the ragged
flares of (the hopefully rictional) tribute band Not The Hoople, when they chop
out the cheeky Abba pastiche "Hazy Shades Of Gold" or the bluesy, feather-cut
stomp of "Tied To The '90s," they look every inch the pop star. The rock-bottom
line is that when they attempt those clangingly hollow AOR epics, they look like
Thom Yorke's mooning arse. And, as we all know, any f***er can play guitar.
NME
It's singer Fran who really gives Travis away. He actually
is
Les McKeown, beflared crooner with legendary Scottish bubblegum poppers The Bay
City Rollers. And what's more, the rest of his band are fast beginning to follow
suit.
Yet despite Fran Healy's porridge-thick between-song banter,
the presence of Spud from Trainspotting on bass and the ghost of Clare
Grogan dancing Bez-like across the stage, there are no tartan scarves tied to
the wrist. In fact, the look is modelled more on "Born To Run"-era Springsteen--all cap sleeves
and
hip-hugging cords and lawnmower hair.
All he wants to do is...well, you know...
June 21, 1997
by John Perry
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