Situated on
the tiny Jack Kerouac Lane, right opposite the City Lights book
store in San Francisco, Vesuvio's bar looks every inch a top-class literary
hang-out. The faded newspaper articles on the wall detail wild nights here with
Dylan Thomas and Allen Ginsberg and the quietly arty clientele hardly bat an
eyelid when Travis, themselves named after the existentialist anti-hero of Paris,
Texas, tumble through the doors with the blustery panache of a touring
rock'n'roll band.
Just one person takes any real notice of the foursome and he's not exactly
what you'd call a thinker. Thick-set, slack of jaw and built with violence and
intimidation in mind, he's the kind of guy Beavis and Butthead would call a "dumb
ass", a bouncer waiting to happen. As we order drinks, he's talking about
killing sharks in a booming drawl that begs capital letters to two very scared
tourists, but he soon shifts his focus when Travis open their mouths. Oh dear.
"Are you guys Scottish?" Timid nods all round. "Sean Connery!"
yells the man-mountain. "Trainspotting!" This is his full knowledge
of Travis's homeland, but that doesn't stop him shouting for several more
minutes. Bassist Dougie Payne, guitarist Andy Dunlop and drummer Neil Primrose
stare at their beers, which is when singer Fran Healy's second nature kicks in.
Rather than keep schtum, he starts chatting to the guy--and soon enough he's
charmed him into submission.
Such wide-eyed foolhardiness, appropriately enough, is what Travis call The
Stupid Factor. And you'll find it shot right through the band, from their songs--the unthinking
howl of "All I Wanna Do Is Rock" and the simple
knees-up of "U16 Girls"--to their refreshingly romantic and slightly
naive approach to life. A clever person would have shut up and got the hell out
of Vesuvio's as soon as possible. Fran, however, turned the situation right
round.
"Did you hear what he said when I told him the name of the band? 'What,
like Travis airbase?'" laughs Fran ten minutes later while we walk up
Columbus Avenue towards Broadway. "The thing is, you meet guys like him all
the time in America. And it's much worse in the midwest. There, they have guns."
God bless San
Francisco.
You join us on the day after Thanksgiving, three and a half weeks into
Travis's first U.S. tour. it's the start of the biggest shopping weekend in San
Francisco, where each resident is expected to spend over $1,000 on Christmas
presents, and Travis are feeling suitably family-orientated. Fran's flown his
mum over from Scotland for the weekend, Neil's here with his girlfriend Esther,
and the band spent Thanksgiving as guests of Dougie's American girlfriend
Justina.
"Last night, Dougie's girlfriend's father asked me how I started doing
this," says Fran, sitting in the Phoenix Hotel. "And the first time I
got onstage was when I was seven. It was a Burns night at school, and they put a
kilt on me, and I sang a Scottish song called 'Westering Home.' I won a
certificate for that."
Fran was born in 1973 in Stafford in England. His parents divorced when he
was one, and he and his mum moved to Glasgow to live with his grandparents. Both
events, he feels now, played a major part in shaping his personality.
"All kids should be brought up just by their mums," he says. "I
don't think men can do it. I'd love to be a father, but I might not be
interested like most guys. Dougie's got three sisters, and his dad was the only
man in the house, and it makes you think about things very differently. Oasis's
songs are very masculine, and there's definitely a feminine aspect to my songs. A
tenderer side."
The Gallaghers were brought up just my their mother, as well.
"But they weren't only children, and they had each other to spark off.
Whereas, ever since I was small, I've made stuff for myself. We were really poor
and didn't have a record player, and there were no books. I still don't read.
Everyone tells me it's magic, but I can't get into it. Five pages in, and it's a
desert. So that's when I started drawing. I went on to art school, but left to
do this because I finished my first song before my first painting."
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"My band's my security blanket. It's what I hide behind, it's
what I live with, and there's nothing I'd rather be doing."--Fran
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Do you miss painting?
"Yeah. That's the only thing that's every eluded me. I don't want to be
Picasso, but I want to be able to do and sell paintings. But that's all to come,
when I'm 40 or whatever. I've decided we're going to do five albums and then I
want to paint and have a family and be there while they're growing up. The great
thing about painting is you don't have to stand in front of your painting every
night"
Robbed of a father figure, Fran grew up very close to his grandfather. He
was an amateur artist of sorts, sketching horses in his spare time, and he'd
accompany Fran to the art school to play pool and hang out with Fran's friends.
"He was full of shite, just stupid," Fran says, affectionately. "And
I'm dead stupid as well. I wrote in my diary that I hate Radiohead because
they're too clever and I wish I was clever. I envy the way they write and make
music. I remember my girlfriend saying, 'You're fucking stupid,' and I went
mental: 'Fuck off, I'm not fucking stupid'. I am, though. But it's good to be
stupid. Intelligent people look at too much, whereas stupid people can see
one thing clearly."
Just after he won his singing certificate, Fran started to feel he was
different from the other kids in school. Was it because his dad wasn't around?
"No, everybody's dad wasn't around. Most people I've met on tour are
from single-parent families. The exception nowadays is to have two parents. I
was picked on at primary school, and that made me feel 'What the fuck is it about
me that makes people pick on me?' I heard that one of the guys that bullied me
died of a heroin overdose, and I just thought, 'Fuck you, you prick. Well done,
you fucking snuffed it.' I hate bullies. And I still encounter them now."
Did the bullying have much of an affect on you?
"Yeah. I get scared when I hear a man raising his voice. I was a poor
wee thing then that no one paid attention to and the only thing I ever got
attention from was art. Some kids are good at maths and others shout in class,
but I was the guy who was always drawing. It's funny, because after I was
bullied, I met a guy called Paul. He was dead popular, good-looking, sparkling
eyes, and the big kids loved him. And I made the decision, 'Right, I'm going to
change. I'm going to talk to people and make an effort to become more popular.'
And I did."
Thinking about Fran's
grandad and the guy Paul, the scene in Vesuvio's
starts to make sense. Fran's Stupid Factor isn't a hindrance, but his saving
grace, part of the charm that makes both him and his songs so affecting.
Watching Fran fearlessly chat his way into people's hearts, you understand how "full
of shite" is not just a term of endearment but the highest compliment there
is.
"In March of last year, my granda' died suddenly," says Fran,
quietly. "He'd had cancer for a year and didn't know about it. I saw him on
the Saturday, and he was feeling really shit, and by the Tuesday, he was in
hospital, a vegetable, and then he died. And the night he died, we were in
Edinburgh as a five-piece, without Dougie in the band. And I went back to
Glasgow and found out, and I thought: 'This is it. I'm going to change things.
I'll get rid of these guys and get Dougie in, although Dougie cannae play the
bass.' It was mad, but I had a feeling and it was a real pivotal moment. A year
and a half ago, it could have gone completely the other way, and I'd never be
here and doing this."
A few hours later and Fran's working his magic onstage at the Fillmore, the
legendary birthplace of psychedelia that's played host to everyone from The
Grateful Dead to the Pixies. He dedicates a song to all the girls in the audience
and is rewarded with an adoring cheer. "I Love You Anyways" goes out
to Bob and Bonnie, Justina's parents, who met and fell in love at the Fillmore
27 years ago. And "Happy," Fran's sneaky ode to dope smoking, is
played for his mum.
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"I wrote in my diary that I hate Radiohead because they're too clever, and I wish I was clever. I envy the way they write and make music."--Fran
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By far, the most touching moment though, happens when the bass packs up and
Fran strums through a rare rendition of "Falling Down." His voice
stark and vulnerable, Fran is suddenly the boy who lost his father, then his
granda' and is clinging desperately to whatever straws of hope he can find. As
he sings, "I'm getting used to the floor," a chill runs
through the venue and you realise just why you love Travis. And why,
subsequently, they're deserving of the Maker cover.
"Most songs on the album [Good Feeling] are about an
ex-girlfriend," Fran explains backstage after the gig. "Is she the CF
that 'I Love You Anyways' is dedicated to? Yeah, that's her. That's dedicated to
her for the last part of the song that says 'I caught the 44'. The 44
bus has taken me everywhere in life. It took me to school. To the visual arts
studio where I met Dougie. To the cinema, where I would go with my granda'. To
art school. And then from my house to my girlfriend's house and back everyday.
She was at one end of the route, and I was at the other. And when we split up,
the visual arts studio disappeared, the art school disappeared, granda'
disappeared, and I was left with... nothing."
Talking about how the 44 "preordained" his destiny makes me think of
the first time I met Fran. Then, he was going on about the influence of pi on
his life, as if the number 3.14 had some cosmic significance for Travis.
"I haven't spoken about it since. Because as soon as you let the angels
know you're onto them, they leave for a holiday. Tony Blair was elected at
3.14am. You should have seen my face when I found that out. I was shitting
myself."
Right after our first interview, we passed a car with a 314 numberplate.
"I know! And physics explains everything. Physics and maths are so
artistic and are based on the same principles as writing a song, because it's
there and all you need to do is pluck it from the air. I believe that for songs,
you're a tea bag. And each individual leaf in the bag is an experience or a
person. The hot water comes in, the tea pours out and whatever you're left with
is your life. And the hot water is physics. I don't know what the cup is,
though."
Fran goes on to reel off several other important numbers to him. He says it
takes the angels 12 hours to catch up with you, which is why he hasn't seen pi
while touring America. He was with his girlfriend for two and a half years and
was three years older than her. He's even written a song
about the difference in
their ages when they were together. It's called "1922." Her age, then
his.
"There's loads of song with hair in them, as well. Maybe I've got this
thing about losing my hair, because my granda' was totally bald. I'm going grey
really badly at the sides, and I'm only 24."
The 44 girl's family were forever giving Fran hassle about getting a proper
job, and eventually she dumped him. He responded by writing the song "Good
Feeling", with the line, "Anything you're giving/Isn't worth this
feeling," meaning "my music is more important than you."
But still. Were you upset?
"Yeah, I was gutted. Because you latch on to people and use them as
security blankets. But you're better off alone because it makes you stronger.
She knew that, and I understand it now. Relationships just tend to be stand-in
parents."
Are you with someone now?
"Yeah. She's nice. But I think you've got your own wee box, and I don't
want anyone on that box for a long time now. I've explained that. I don't need a
security blanket. My band's my security blanket. It's what I hide behind, it's
what I live with, and there's nothing I'd rather be doing."
Fast-forward
24 hours and you find us enduring an overcast day in drab,
uncultured Los Angeles. Fran's spent the day shopping with his mum and has a
tall tale to tell. Apparently, mother and son asked a woman for directions to
the local shopping mall and were suprised when she offered to drive them there.
In fact, it was only when they were in the car that Fran realised, hey, this was
LA, and this woman might be taking them somewhere to be shot.
"L.A.'s like Blackpool with guns," grins Andy, as Fran relates his story.
"It should be called Healywood, then I'd think of moving here," adds Fran. "I think San Francisco's amazing, though. And it's got my name in it. Francis."
Tonight is the penultimate show of Travis' support tour with Ben Folds Five
and even though the band have been in America for nearly a month now, they're
still reeling at the place.
"America's fucking mental," says Fran, tucking into a burrito in a
Mexican restaurant. "It's massive, and people don't understand a word you're
saying. But the girls love our accents. A girl came up to me in Kansas and said,
'You should bring out an album of just you speaking, because we could listen to
you all night.' It's funny, because I sometimes go onstage after we play and
talk to people. And they don't care what you say, they're just listening."
What's been the wildest show of the tour?
"Cleveland," says Dougie. "It was the first time it snowed
on the road, and it was my birthday at midnight and we didn't go on until 1 o' clock. We were knackered, and the gig was mental. And then we drove, and because we passed a time zone, it was a 25-hour day. On my 25th birthday."
And the weirdest place you've been to?
"The Scottish Inn in West Virginia," decides Fran."I had a
sleepwalking nightmare. I dreamt that there was a crack in the wall by my bed,
and I punched it and all these flying ants came out and flew in my hair and my
face. I just remember waking up at the door, screaming 'Let me fucking out, let
me out!'"
"I was going, 'Frannie, are you all right?'" adds Dougie."And
he was going, 'Oh, the beasties.' Then the other night we were in Pittsburgh, and
I was woken up by Frannie sitting up in bed, sound asleep, going 'horse, horse,
doggie...'"
"It's because I went horse riding in Texas," says Fran. "I
was given a cowboy hat, and I'm becoming the Marlboro Man. I didn't gallop
because I haven't ridden before, but I trotted. And the farm gave me a taste of
what's good about that life, the quietness. It would be a good place to write. I
loved Austin, it felt really familiar. Coming back from the ranch, it felt like
being nine again. I kept expecting to see my mates running around the corner. It
was great."
"Neil got into trouble in Texas," says Dougie. "A guy
starting walking round him and trying to psych him out. You don't do that to big
Neil. He kept walking. That area was really dodgy. They were selling crack
outside the laundrette."
"They were selling crack in the laundrette by the hotel?" asks
Fran, amazed. "Why didn't you tell me? Travis on crack. Now there's a
concept."
As the lads carry on talking and supping margaritas, it dawns on you that
they're all touched by the magical Stupid Factor in their own way. Dougie's the knockabout joker, always late and always forgiven. Andy's kind and thoughtful,
too humane to be a snide intellectual; Neil's the strong, silent type; and Fran's just the wee charmer who's having a ball growing
up in fantasyland.
"The biggest event of this tour has been my mum coming over," Fran
smiles. "My mum deserves strictly good stuff from now on, and I don't care
how un-rock'n'roll that seems, but she's done a lot for me and the band."
"When we toured with Oasis, it's something you see in the Gallaghers," nods Andy, "because they
look after their mum really well. They don't give a shit what people think."
"It was funny seeing the two mums together," laughs Fran. "Peggy
and my mum chatting away, two wee women with their wee handbags. And when I
introduced Liam and Noel to my mum, they went, 'Fucking hell, you look just
like your mam.' And I think there is a similar quality."
Were you worried about meeting Oasis?
"No. I'm never intimated by stars," says Fran. "The Exeter
show was weird because they all watched while we soundchecked, and I thought
'Fucking hell, there's those guys I've seen in 2D for years on TV and in mags.'
But it was cool. I have this thing with my mates in Glasgow. When I'm not there,
they've got 2D Fran, and when I'm there it's 3D Fran. But the thing about Oasis
is they love music. They watched us play every night of the tour. And the only
bit of advice was from Liam. He said 'Don't let fame get in front of you, keep
it behind you.' Not in the media, but with your family. They've got a lot of
humility. And so do we.
"I think it's an Irish thing," Fran continues, "because last
Christmas my family deliberately embarrassed the shit out of me. They gave me a
lucky bag of stuff. And in it was this 48DD bra and my mum was like, 'That's one
of the bras that get thrown at you and you've got to find the women it fits'.
And a pair of knickers with 'I love Frannie' written on them and a tartan hat so
I would never forget where I came from. And they made me put on this hat and
these knickers and bra and stand humiliated and have my photo taken. And they
did that just to keep me down to earth. It's a sign of affection."
"The best thing is you've had knickers thrown at you since then," grins Andy.
"Yeah, on the Longpigs tour," blushes Fran. "And I've become
a gay icon. I did a thing for Attitude magazine, and there was a letter
afterwards saying, 'That Fran Healy can strum my guitar any time. Lots of love,
Gordon from Chester'. And I was like 'Arrrghh!' So I'm a gay pin-up. It's great."
So what do you think your family will do you you this Christmas?
"God knows," says Fran, turning white. "I think they're just going to shoot me."
The show that night is another life-affirming triumph, despite the fact that
the venue, Club Caprice in Redondo Beach, is the kind of redneck hangout you'd
expect to be decked with chicken wire, Blues Brothers-stylee. There's noticeably
more ladies hanging on Fran's every word, and when he shouts, "We're in LA,"
after singing, "I met a girl in LA" during "U16 Girls," you feel that a chapter in Travis's life has
just drawn to a close.
"When I wrote 'U16 Girls' and said, 'I met a girl in LA', I'd
never been there in my life and now here we are," beams Fran after. "So
let's do an experiment. I'll write a song about being a millionaire and mention
all these things I want and you should tell me some things you want and I'll
make them come true. Free of charge."
That's Travis. As stupid as love itself.
Melody Maker
December 13, 1997
All Ears: Ian Watson
All Beers: Pat Pope
And talk he does...about TRAVIS, of course, but also bullying, art,
Oasis, drinking, death and going grey! Fran Healy is ready for a good old natter so we travel to
San Francisco and Los Angeles to listen.
