Travis
Ode To J.Smith

On the pop front, this 2008 was supposed to mark the return of at least three major British bands. The first two, Coldplay and Verve, have released perfectly average albums in recent months, with Martin's band relying on a producer—Brian Eno—capable of giving a baroque and sophisticated depth to compositions that on paper don't always live up to expectations, and Ashcroft's band putting out a well-made product that nevertheless cannot quite resurrect the glory of the past.

A year and a half after "The Boy With No Name" saw them return to the European scene after three years of silence (except for the best of), Travis led by Francis Healy join the aforementioned groups and release their sixth studio album. For reference, one less than Radiohead. Since their debut in 1996, the band has maintained a nearly unchanged simple and immediate sound founded on melodies that are sometimes catchy and sometimes truly impactful, consistently staying at more than good levels. Even the last album was no exception: Eno's production and the usual Neil Godrich served mainly to modernize a song form that was still derivative and canonical but always elevated by Healy's innate melodicism and his beautiful voice, as always an emotional catalyst in their albums.

Travis has always made pop, in a form perhaps less common today: their music didn't venture into the baroque territories of Coldplay and Verve, never truly hinted at turning toward the britpop of Oasis and Blur when it was still in vogue, and so far hadn't even dipped into the now fashionable indie-rock, good music but paradoxically often hiding a strong commercial tendency. But already in the spring, Healy had announced on the band's blog that the new songs would have a more rock edge. Those in the know spoke of a synthesis between "12 memories," their darkest and most underrated album, and "The Good Feeling," their carefree debut album. A sort of pop-rock with rather dark melodic veins, perhaps a descendant of that "Selfish Jean" which was one of the most acclaimed tracks of "The Boy With No Name."

Indeed, hearing the first track of the album, "Chinese Blues", right from the piano-guitar intro, you notice the clear shift towards rougher sounds. Healy's voice starts strong with an engaging verse and a chorus supported by the xylophone and heavy overlays, elevated in the finale; the feeling is that the sound has become richer and more measured, yet not at the expense of the intrinsic quality of the songs. This feeling, though illusory, persists with the following "J.Smith", the best of the batch if only it were the exception to the rule, which starts with a jaunty riff and unleashes Healy's timbre, dirtier than usual, in a suitably roughened chorus that flows from an Andy Dunlop solo into an extraordinarily beautiful bridge where the singer's falsetto is accompanied by muffled choirs akin to a religious chant. The sort of union between sacred and profane that the song proclaims seems to succeed, as long as one sees the attempt for what it is, a sort of playful endeavor rather than anything serious. Even the not particularly demanding lyrics suggest that at the core of their intent lies—perhaps—only a temporary diversion.

But by the third track, the band begins to show a flank. "Something Anything" starts strong with a riff indebted to Radiohead's "The Bends" but extrudes the intrinsic melodicism in a song structure that is too deliberately sharp to not sound ingratiating. Only Dunlop's Gibson solo truly surprises the listener, and even that more for finding it in a Travis album than for its actual value. Even with the subsequent "Long Way Down", the band shows faith in the new rock outfit of the pieces, but neither Healy's vocals, wasted in hoarse cries we hoped he left in the debut album, nor the guitar overlays offer anything more than pop-rock not far different from what Arctic Monkeys or The Kooks have been doing for a few years now. A positive shift comes with the first ballad of the album, the sweet "Last Words", which on one hand shows us that Healy has not completely lost his whisper-inclined timbre as opposed to the roar, yet on the other can't help but remind us of the more successful episodes of "The Invisible Band." Finally, one might say, the old Travis return without too many artifices and only with a good melody somewhere between melancholic and joyful that sticks after the first listen.

The following "Quite Free" requires more than one listen to be truly understood; it is, in fact, a potentially exceptional track that loses itself in a chorus that once again tries to sound alternative without being so. The sense of underlying annoyance, almost a sort of resentment for this indie shift that, authentic or not, just cannot be digested, grows with "Get up", which seems to revisit the more rhetorical and predictable themes of "12 memories" without carrying over a melody worthy of the name. The result, needless to say, resembles a song by Jet. Healy is skilled and technically inspired, but one wonders what happened to his more authentic timbre. Even the subsequent "Friends", a humble and immediate slow track, sweet and subdued yet certainly not particularly cathartic, merely makes us miss the better episodes of the previous album ("Battleships" and "Big Chair", to be clear).
It is in fact "Song To Self" that revisits the sounds of "The Boy With No Name"; a potential hit that bids to be the new "Closer", finally a well-crafted song with an inspired and fun melody, a lively text, and the guitar staying in its place, merely supporting the excellent singer's voice. The album closes with "Before You Were Young", a splendid acoustic ballad carried by a beautiful piano line, which finally recalls in its sad and ascending chorus the best of Travis, those of the second album, those of the pure melodies of "As you are" and "Luv", those that made us dream as teenagers. A tear of nostalgia almost emerges seeing them today throw away half an album chasing rock chimeras where they clearly aren't at home.

In conclusion, ultimately, we are faced with a CD that raises many questions. Dunlop's album, yes, Healy's angriest album, the first true "band" album, with even drums and bass taking the lead, but also the least coherent and homogeneous album of Travis's entire career. There is certainly no creative crisis hiding behind this rock shift (on the contrary, the songs were conceived a year after the previous album precisely because Healy always declared himself very inspired after the birth of his firstborn); rather, it's as much a conscious as unconsciously risky, not to say disastrous choice. Moreover, it seems the band assembled and arranged more precisely those tracks too fragile in themselves to be presented as true ballads. And while there's not much to say about the ballads, it's on that concentration of distorted chords that the criticism of the listener loyal to the "reactionary" and pure Travis more heavily hinges, the same type of listener who cannot help but declare themselves partially disappointed even by their worthy cousins, Coldplay. In the end, aside from the title track, only "Last Words", "Friends", and "Before You Were Young" are left to save, with "Song to Self" and "Chinese Blues" standing out.

I wonder: today, at the end of the first decade of the 21st century, is it still possible to produce a truly pop album? Quality pop, pop worthy heir to the Beatles, the early Radiohead, the very Travis. Perhaps Healy has given us the answer with this record.