Travis - Volume 17

Scotland--the land of Begbie, shitty U-bends, Teen-C Power pop, Teenage Fanclub, Glasgow Rangers FC, and the evil brainrot that is Buckfast. A place of loud guitars, furious creativity, and deep-fried Mars bars.

Volume 17

It is also home to a bunch called Travis, three former art students and an ex-barman who are currently causing grown men, hardened cynics, and the man who runs their local off-licence to weep openly into their beer amid cries of "best new band in Britain."
"Oh fuck! Oh fuck, that's US!"
If you happened to be in an offy in North London recently while two gangly Glaswegians ran around the shop in a state of delirium, you would have been witness not to another case of care in the community gone wrong, but rather a touching and soon-to-be legendary moment in pop history. It was the first time Travis got played on national radio. And two of the band heard it. By accident.
"It was brilliant!" beams Travis bass player Douglas. "Me and Andy (guitarist) just walked in to buy some beers, and there it was. Our song. Coming out of the radio. We thought the guy had his radio tuned in to some indie station, and we said, 'What's that?' and he said, 'Radio One!' We started jumping up and down and got him to turn it up and were just dancing in the shop."

Andy Dunlop, Doug Payne, and Travis's singer Fran Healy have been friends since school. They did fine arts degrees together. Andy studied sculpture and Doug learnt to make jewellery. Fran abandoned his painting classes after meeting drummer Neil Primrose in a local pub and deciding it was time to form his own band. The first incarnation was as raggedy pub rockers Glass Onion. But as soon as Doug and Andy had got their degrees and were free to devote all their time to the band, Glass Onion mutated into the slick, sexy, super-pop of Travis, named after the central character in Paris, Texas.
So what are Travis like? Think baby Bluetones and then immediately disregard that as far too simplistic. Think Radiohead, Led Zeppelin, Joni Mitchell, and Iggy Pop--hard riffs; delicate, dreamlike melodies; and brash, swaggering songs about underage sex--and you'd be getting closer. They have a confidence far beyond their (average) 23 years and an experience that only comes with playing "millions of gigs" in every beer-stinking bar that would have them.
"Scotland's a great place to practise," grins the waiflike Fran. "'Cos nobody ever goes there, so you've got time to get good."

Knowing that they would never be discovered in Glasgow, Fran talked his mum into financing some studio time so they could record a demo tape. Armed with one phone number, that of a bigwig at Sony Music Publishing, he got on a train and delivered the tape in person, insisting it was listened to there and then. The man was intrigued enough to agree to come up to Scotland and see Travis play. It was a night the band still remember with both horror and amusement.
"It was a disaster!" they chorus. "The PA blew up after the first song. Then a fight broke out, glasses flying, blood everywhere. Paramedics arrived, there was police all over the place...total disaster!"
Not entirely a disaster, though, because, possibly under the illusion he was signing the sons of Irvine Welsh, the man from Sony offered them a publishing deal. Thus encouraged, Travis decided it was time to abandon Glasgow and, a few months ago, moved en masse to London. They immediately rented a draughty terraced house in North London, released a three-track EP featuring the sublime Evening Session favourite "All I Wanna Do Is Rock" on their own Red Telephone Box Records imprint, and have become the first band signed to ex-Go! Discs MD Andy Macdonald's new label Independiente.
Currently they are sitting on a their nylon-covered sofa discussing teenage temptresses, the inspiration behind the brash, bouncing irresistible pop of "U16 Girls."
"It's true," Fran is shouting. "Women do look older than they are."
"We were in Chelmsford a few weeks ago for a gig, and there were all these wee girls in skirts like belts," adds Andy. "It were great."
But is the song based on first-hand experience of jailbait babes unwittingly tempting the into underage shenanigans?
"No, definitely not," Fran says quickly. "My Mum might be reading this. The inspiration for that song came from getting chucked by a girl really..."
"A wee young girl," interrupts Douglas with a chuckle.
Perhaps they should get used to it, for Travis are about to become poster pin-ups in "wee girl" bedrooms across the land, although they modestly refuse to make Gallagheresque, grandiose predictions about their future.
"We don't want to say we're going to be the biggest band in the world," Fran shudders. "We don't want to tempt fate."
But if they don't, their local liquor seller is less superstitious.
After Doug and Andy had finished dancing round his shop, he predicted: "You guys are gonna be the next millionaires!"
And, with the unerring ability to write songs that bounce round your brain and stir your soul, Travis look set to prove him right.
Volume 17
by Sam Steele
photos by Scarlet Page

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