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The Tireless Ones | |
Travis follows a year-and-a-half of road work with a new album--and more touring.
On a plane trip home from Australia last August, Fran Healy was struck by a peculiar impulse. "I had this crazy idea of going into the studio straight after we finished touring, which I didn't even like the idea of," says the lead singer of tenderhearted Scottish quartet Travis. The band had just finished 18 months of exultant touring in support of their album The Man Who (Independiente/Epic). They performed more than 250 shows and watched as their album became a sensation throughout Europe, selling millions of copies and earning Brit awards for Best Album and Best Group. While rest appeared to be the next logical step, the band agreed it should immediately begin work on its next record. "We all thought it would be a good thing because having even a month off would break the continuity," Healy says. "I think to make a record, you've got to have ample distractions from the job so you don't become too self-conscious about what you're doing. I believe that if you write something unconsciously, it will have its biggest impact and biggest resonance on someone else's unconsciousness."
Largely written by Healy between the ages of 19 and 21, the songs on The Man Who swirled with an upbeat pathos best described as a healing wound set to music. In contrast, The Invisible Band is filled with a winsome harmony, which Healy agrees is due partly to the comfort from shedding the pathos of youth. "A lot of these songs were written around 25, 26," notes Healy, now 27. "I think it's almost that feeling of 'Ahhh, I've made it! I got through that bit. Onto the next bit now.'" The album's optimistic timbre is best showcased on he first single, "Sing," a banjo-laden opus to song. "There's something really healing about singing," explains Payne. "It's a catharsis, it's a release. So often in life you're taught not to let go, not to drop your guard, and that's the most fundamental thing...to let yourself be open to bad and good, to happy and sad, and singing is a part of that."
According to Healy, the title of the record comes from the "invisible force" that dominates the world. "All bands, when heard on the radio, are invisible. You can't see them, but god, you can hear them and you can sing along as well." Payne states the album's title is an indication that the band is unworthy of the mystique or mythologization that comes with stardom. "It's not really about the band, it's about all of it together as one thing, the human race. Music is kind of a magical invisible part of that."
The members of Travis, including drummer Neil Primrose and guitarist Andy Dunlop, have a rare sense of combined musical and artistic sensibilities, which they credit to their tenure at art school. The four were taught to view everything with an open mind. "You're open basically to everything," says Payne. They have an unconventional bond that might come across as peculiar. They often finish each other's sentences and frequently know exactly what the other one is thinking. "We're like a freakish collect," Payne muses. "Like some kind of cult." An endearing quality of the band is this tight bond, which is apparent by the way they speak of each other. "We have the kind of understanding you have with family," Payne says. "You don't have to say anything. You just understand each other."
This symbiotic relationship was evident on The Man Who, an album that came out in the United States in spring 2000 after nearly a year of life in the U.K. While stateside critical response was overwhelmingly positive, record sales were not comparably fevered. Healy isn't dismayed. "I thought it did brilliantly in the U.S., actually. I thought it did exactly what I wanted it to do, which was to create an awareness on a ground level." U.S. concert promoters compared the ground reacton to that of an early U2 as Travis went from playing small clubs to selling out 5,000-seat venues after five months gigging. "Travis has never been about being the quick big flash that goes off and that's it," says Payne. "It was always about slowly and steadily building things up." The members view live performing as an extension of their "invisible awareness," which helped them impress audiences. "The dead easy way to win over a crowd," adds Healy, "is to fucking play your ass off. So many bands play to themselves on the stage that it's like 'Come on! It's not about you. Play for the people.'"
Naturally, there is pressure to top the success of The Man Who, but Payne and Healy claim the greatest importance was to make the best record they possibly could, an ambition they felt they have fulfilled. "The record company says they want to sell millions of records and make loads of money, but personally, the best feedback, more than any amount of money you could ever make, is when someone smiles or busts out singing or crying," says Healy. "You realize that we're all bound together by something that we can't quite put a finger on, but it's as tangible as the fucking air we breathe."
Pulse
Without much rest, the band began work on the album last fall in London before moving to a sunnier locale: Los Angeles's Ocean Way Studios. Producer Nigel Godrich, who helmed much of the band's previous album, returned to produce The Invisible Band (Independiente/ Epic) between overseeing the last two Radiohead opuses. Bassist Dougie Payne fondly describes Godrich as the fifth member of the band. "I don't think Nigel gets enough credit because I think he's a fantastic person to work with. He's really an incredibly creative and artistic man." Both Healy and Payne credit Godrich for the album's cohesiveness, resulting in what they call a "far more realized" effort than their previous album, The Man Who.
Healy speaks with a childlike wonder when discussing the "magic" behind the music he and his bandmates create. "Music and art help people punch a hole in this fucking consciousness that we all have," he says. "I think as we get older, consciousness descends upon you like dust on an ornament or mantle piece, and music and art are like an amazing duster that dusts off this consciousness that makes you forget about what's important." Which, according to Healy, includes "birth, death, art and humanity. That's pretty much it."
July 2001
Text: Chris Chandar
Photography: Steve Read
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