It's barely into
Saturday afternoon, and Travis are getting ready to play one of the most
important gigs of their career. This time last year, they played at exactly the same time in the day,
but that was in a tent and now they're playing the main stage.
They open with "All I Wanna Do Is Rock," and the crowd applaud them almost like returning
heroes--not just because, somewhat improbably, they're the only Scottish band playing the main
stage today. "I think any band would want to open with that song," says lead guitarist
[sic]Douglas Payne later on. "I'm glad we wrote it and not somebody else."
At that moment, everything seems to fall into place, which is just as well because the omens have
not been terrific due to hours of travelling. And waiting. And then some more travelling. they
might take their name from Harry Dean Stanton's obsessively wandering character in the film
Paris, Texas, but aimless meandering is not really Travis's idea of a good time.
Their epic journey to T In The Park really began the night before. Having played a festival in
Venice, they found themselves stranded in the airport due to complications with the airline.
Eventually landing in London at 2 a.m. (they were originally scheduled to get in at 9:30), the band
went to bed and got up at 6 o'clock to fly to Edinburgh. On arrival, they got on their swanky
coach with blacked-out windows to drive to the site, where they spent several pointless hours
driving in circles being misdirected by an array of clueless stewards. Only a few games of table
football helped them regain a little sanity.
 |
Their performance makes up for their incessant journeying, however. "People in Scotland, more
than anything else, really adore music," says Fran. "They like to come here and sing the songs they
love with their mates. And there's no sense of people trying to be cooler-than-thou at this
festival--they just want to have a good time."
There are also a few more tangible benefits to playing this festival. "They have fantastic toilets
back there," says Fran. "Yesterday I went for a jobby in Venice, and it was just a hole full of shite.
You know, your whole life, every time you have a crap, you're expecting to hear that splash noise,
and yesterday, it went 'flumpf'--it was like dropping a sandwich on the floor. You don't know
when it's finished and when to stop pushing. But at T In The Park, your jobbies go 'plop'."
Travis spend a large part of their day backstage, doing interviews with the likes of Radio One and
STV. "You can never complain about people being interested in you," reasons Douglas. "No
publicity is bad publicity."
Another of the benefits of sitting backstage is being able to watch various celebrities making idiots
of themselves attempting to emulate Michael Owen.
Fran: "We want to nick Robbie's football."
Andy (bass) [sic again!]: "It would be better nicking his bird."
Fran: "He's engaged to her out of All Saints. I saw her earlier on and she was eyeing you up."
Andy: "What can I do? I fancy the other one. You know, the member of All Saints with the beard.
I think he's called Big Dave."
Another progression from last year is that Travis are one of the attractions at the signing tent,
provoking a fearsome queue of hopeless optimists. "I felt a bit guilty for the people at the back,
because we had to fuck off after half an hour," says Douglas. "It didn't matter," corrects Andy,
"they were only waiting for Ash."
"We could probably sign twice as many autographs as we do if we didn't talk to the fans so
much," says Fran, coming on all we-are-not-worthy. "You know, it's not so much about getting
your autograph--people want to say they've met you."
There are, apparently, a few credibility drawbacks to signing, however. "You've got people
queuing up to meet you, and next to them, our mates are there, all pissed up, shouting 'All right
there Franny!' That bit can be a wee bit embarrassing."
And after a moderate bit of boozing, it's back off to their mums' houses in Glasgow at around 9
o'clock. There are various Travis parents already on the site, which probably explains the absence
of the all-out alcohol gibbonry one might expect of these Scots youths.
"My mum and my Auntie Babs came last year, as well," says Fran. "They were at the front
clutching their handbags before we started playing, and they were thinking, 'This is magic, we've
got loads of room to see the band.' But then we played our first song and the crowd all surged
forward. They got big footprints all over their blouses."
Select
September 1998
by John Mullen
TRAVIS dodge relatives for an early-afternoon homecoming
triumph.
