Top of the sops

Travis’ new album, The Boy With No Name, is their first of four years but, in a sense, these sensitive Glasgow strummers have never been away.

For the past half decade, the glumly earnest Travis sound has planted a flag at the heart of the charts. Drenched in weepy guitars and heart-on-sleeve wordplay, The Man Who, the band’s 1999 break-out LP, was the record that gave grown men permission to crumble in public. Keane, Snow Patrol, Coldplay, arguably even Bell X1, owe Travis a vast debt.
“When we were preparing to release The Man Who, a journalist from the NME told us we were making the biggest mistake of careers,” recalls Neil Primrose, Travis’s drummer, over breakfast in London. “I remember it clearly. He said: ‘You’ll end up playing to two men and a dog if you do this.’ I think it’s fair to say we’ve proven him wrong.”
As to Travis’s much touted standing as the elder statesmen of sob-pop – well, the band are happy to claim credit for all the soundalikes that came in their wake.
“Without question, many of the bands that are doing very well today took their cues from us,” says Primrose. “You don’t have to be a genius to work that out. You can hear it in their music.”
It’s a muggy afternoon in London and Travis, who long ago swapped gritty Glasgow for the bright(ish) lights of the capital, are courting the assembled media. Following the longest hiatus of their career, the quartet are looking forward to stepping back into the fray, though, as Primrose confesses, life as a touring rock band can be fraught. He should know: in 2002, while on the road on the continent, he snapped his neck in a swimming pool accident and nearly died.
“I’ve always likened being in a band to being in a washing machine. You get spun round and round. Eventually you can’t take it any more. You know that’s when it’s time to stop,” he says. “Eventually, you start to miss it however. Normal life becomes sort of dull – you want to get back in for another spin.”
The title of the new album is inspired by singer Fran Healy’s experience of fatherhood. After his partner, Nell, gave birth to their first son, Healy sent a picture of the infant, as yet unnamed, to a friend, accompanied by the caption “The Boy With No Name”. As a matter of fact, the entire album may be read as a commentary on growing older: on ‘Battleships’ Healy ponders mid-life relationship woes; ‘My Eyes’ is a reflection on the awesome responsibilities of parenthood. Does this mean Travis are ready for the pipe and slippers?
“Ah no, mate,” chuckles Primrose. “We still love being in a band. It’s the best feeling in the world.”

The Boy With No Name is out now on Independiente