not like all the other boys

After the hullabaloo of Hardly Strictly Bluegrass, the cloistered, controlled Swedish American Hall couldn't have been more welcoming. Leading the services, Fran Healy and Andy Dunlop of Travis brought to mind the band's own words of wisdom from many years ago: back to that good feeling.

An Evening with Fran Healy and Andy Dunlop from Travis, Swedish American Hall, October 8, 2009: If there's one discernible thread running through my musical preferences, I think it would go back to an interest in singer/songwriters and, arguably, folk(ish) music, even before I knew what they were. In that regard, my longtime fondness for Travis fits right in.



I know that not everyone will agree with me on the above point, and I understand that one installment of Storytellers does not a troubadour make. Heck, I don't really adhere to my own rules, and I suspect many of the artists whose records comprise my music collection would flinch at such a label. I certainly wouldn't have guessed that Travis would fill this niche all those years ago when I picked up Good Feeling (in 1997, to be exact).

But in this setting, Fran and Andy--working with a skeleton crew and a minimal amount of gear--were the very picture of wandering balladeers, albeit for the electronic age. Fran, ever garrulous, discoursed freely and widely through the promised chronological examination of the band's output, and Andy chipped in some punchlines and his essential guitar notes. In addition, Fran's slide show (oddly, however, they didn't play "Slide Show") included some hilarious images--even if they were doctored for our enjoyment--as well as more heartfelt pictures, such as one of his son. And though Fran apologized over and over for playing so long, no objections arose from the crowd.

Once upon a time, I read every Travis interview I could get a hold of and repurposed them for public display. Thus, I probably know more than I need to about the band, but even for this former nutcase, Fran revealed some surprising and specific details, down to where some songs were written (Millport, Isle of Cumbrae, brace yourself), when they came about, and the very events that set them off.

For example, I had no idea that "As You Are" was written long before it showed up on The Man Who. Considering it remains one of my favorite of the band's songs, maybe that folk angle would've played out earlier had it been included on their debut. Also, Fran introduced a new wrinkle into the provenance of "Writing to Reach You." Joining the ranks of the better-known nods to Noel Gallagher and Franz Kafka were the musical stylings of American indie rockers the Connells. Who will he cite next? The Loud Family?

For those keeping score at home, the commercial breakthrough The Man Who garnered the lion's share of Fran and Andy's attention and efforts; they even played the album's hidden track "Flashing Blue Light." Every other album merited a couple of tracks each, except for the often forgotten 12 Memories, which got only one airing, with "Love Will Come Through."

What I appreciated most was Fran's take on the nitty-gritty of writing music: finding inspiration, working through the throwaway ideas, and dealing with deadlines. Not that it was all muso talk--alcohol factored into several tales, as did Fran's repeated citation of Dougie as the coolest member of the band. And I'll never be able to hear the band's "Sing" the same way ever again.

When Travis played San Francisco twice in 2007, I was as perplexed--and delighted--as anyone. This date took me by surprise as well, but Fran and Andy admitted their ulterior motive: Their goal was to write a song for every show--and thus, the band's next album--while on the road. (They also explained why the other two members of the band were not with them. Dougie was being a new dad, and Neil was racing cars.) At the end of the gig, they tried out that new tune, a song called "Holiday"--an original, not a Madonna cover. Fran warned us it could be shit, but it was quite lovely.

Capping off an amiable and engaging gig, Fran and Andy worked up one final hook: They invited everyone who wanted an autograph or a photo or just a word with them to stay. They didn't even leave the stage--they simply met with the line of attending fans. I believe they took more than an hour to greet the masses, and I can guarantee you that every single one of them left with a smile. Also, I suspect with their generous gesture, Fran and Andy solidified the kind of loyalty that's supposedly so difficult to find among contemporary music fans. Come back any time, guys.

See also:
» what's a wonderwall anyway
» give in, into that good feeling

what's a wonderwall anyway

There are certain shows, I realize, I've imbued with much more significance than nearly anyone else would deem reasonable, and one such gig is the Ben Folds Five/Travis double bill back in 1997, which I happened to catch at the Fillmore almost exactly 10 years ago (give or take a week). OK, there are likely numerous Ben Folds fans who consider the band a major stepping stone in that particular singer/songwriter's development. But Travis? Weren't they just Oasis wannabes or, just as bad, forerunners to Coldplay? Didn't they, like, cover Britney Spears once? Has the NME ever considered them cool? And which one is Travis? Regardless, I stand by my proclamations.

Travis, The Fillmore, November 20, 2007: This show had originally been slated for the Warfield, which surprised me on two levels: That the promoters would schedule a Travis show at a venue of that size when the band hadn't exactly rescaled the heights of popularity they enjoyed back in 2001, which remains the only time they've played the room; and that Travis was coming back to San Francisco at all! When they were last here in May, they didn't sell out the Fillmore, despite the buzz around their long-awaited (by some) return.



As a fan, it didn't bother me one bit, and by all appearances, it didn't affect the band either. Their enormous lighting scheme was clearly meant for a larger room, but that may have been the only vestige of greater expectations. In fact, the band proceeded with what I gather to be their original plans for a grand opening: They dimmed all lights in the room, save for the massive spotlights onstage; cranked up the intro music (the 20th Century Fox theme, followed by the Rocky anthem); traveled the perimeter of the dance floor; and emerged at the opposite end of the stage in bright boxing robes. They had no plans to back down.



From there, they launched into a similar set to the one they did last May, though with maybe a slight emphasis on material from The Boy With No Name. I can't recall the exact differences, though I remember being struck by the inclusion of two tracks from the often overlooked 12 Memories ("Re-Offender" and "Beautiful Occupation"), and Fran said they were trying out "3 Times and You Lose" for only the second time or so that night. He did, in fact, mess up one line, but he took it with a self-effacing grin. We managed to get in a hearty singalong to "My Eyes," but apparently, the old favorite "Why Does It Always Rain on Me" was less familiar to the audience, which probably says something about Travis's changing fan base.

Another welcome title revisited was "20" unplugged, but the audience had an odd reception to it tonight. In May, we listened raptly to pick up Fran's every word and note, but this evening, a few voices in the audience were less willing to go along with the premise, loudly (and drunkenly) posting their protests. Fran took it in stride, though, and simply sang. In the process, he attained the desired effect: the room's full attention.

Early in the show, when it looked like not too many surprises were in store for the night, I thought to myself that I don't mind not traveling to see them anymore. Then they had to work their magic and pull out a few asides that gave me some pangs and made me sort of want to hit the road again.

Top of that list would have to be the busker-style "Flowers in the Window." After "20," the other band members rejoined Fran onstage and gathered around a single mic. While Neil kept time on the tambourine, Fran sang the verses, and Dougie, Andy, and Klaus (the keyboardist) joined in on the chorus; of course, we in the audience helped out when we could. This unvarnished performance not only revealed the song's melodic lilt, but also highlighted the chemistry and--I'm gonna say it--love among the band members. Hands down, it was my favorite part of the show.



The other element, which permeates every second of nearly every Travis show I've seen, is the band's exuberance. Actually, it goes beyond exuberance; it's their bonhomie, as well as the evidence of their ties to each other, and in my experience, no other band comes close to matching their levels of joy and delight in simply sharing the stage with one another.



I suppose you could make an argument about, say, musicianship trumping these warm 'n' fuzzies, and I'd understand where you're coming from. But at this point in my concert-going life, I know that what moves me to catch repeat performances from specific artists is the spirit they bring to the stage. When it comes together, it's as real as any instrument the band is playing or any note they might hit.

OK, enough of my sputtering and back to the music. I would've loved to hear "Battleships" again, and I missed "Happy" too--not so much for the song itself, but for the Mexican jumping bean impersonations it brings out in Fran, Andy, and Dougie. Alas, there was no "U16 Girls" tonight, but they wisely kept "Good Feeling," complete with mid-song spotlight on Klaus. Of course, "All I Want to Do Is Rock" made the list as well, but I don't think they'll ever stop doing that one--nor would I want them to.

Before, during, and after the show, we heard lots of people talking about how many times they've seen Travis and how far they've traveled to make the gigs. We allowed each other snarky asides, but I hardly blame those fans, and this is a band I can't feel jaded about. I'm unlikely to join these fans in their long-distance endeavors, but I'll certainly be back to see the band again.



Maximo Park opened the show, and though I wanted to like them, they did little for me. I couldn't even remember their one song that caught my attention a couple of summers ago, though I think it might have been the penultimate song on their setlist. To their credit, though, they grew on me as their show proceeded. What I originally interpreted to be preening and grandstanding on the singer's part came across as less of an ego exercise and more of an attempt to bring the audience into the show by the end of their performance. Mainly, though, their show drove home the point that an entire generation of British music has pretty much passed me by--and I don't regret it one bit.

See also:
» give in, into that good feeling

give in, into that good feeling

Here's a question I've been grappling with for a while now: If your ardor for a band has waned, when do you walk away? You can try to be logical, weighing such questions as ticket price, your opinion of their latest releases, your (OK, my) venue snobbery. Then there are those cases where emotion rules, which is where Travis stands with me. When their Fillmore date was announced, I didn't hesitate to pick up a ticket.

Travis, the Fillmore, May 2, 2007: Or, "How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Gig."

At the peak of Britpop, a week that brought both Jarvis Cocker and Travis to town would've been my equivalent of the high holidays. Even now that my attention has shifted, it remains a big deal. Not that Jarvis and the Travis crew share many characteristics, other than their ability to make me swoon--if Jarvis, in his references and mannerisms, inhabits one end of the spectrum as the quintessentially British performer, Travis occupies the other end, as unabashed populists who happen to be Scottish but whose music is meant to be heard worldwide.

Full disclosure: I loved Travis, though I always knew they would never change my life (a ridiculous measure, I know). They would, however, prove a fun distraction for a stretch. My history with them isn't worth repeating, aside from three salient points: (1) I was a rock tourist long before I was a blogger; (2) 2000 was a great year for shows; and (3) in 1997, I saw Ben Folds Five at the Fillmore, just because Travis opened the gig.

A lot has changed since 2000 (not to mention over the last decade), and I'd be lying if I said Travis's music held the same appeal to me--or that it even matters what I think. They aren't playing Bottom of the Hill anymore, that's for sure. This was apparent from the outset, when I overheard the people around me exchanging band gossip and info that I may have once known (or cared about), or as they sang along at the top of their lungs to nearly every song, even titles from the album officially coming out next week.

But almost as immediately, the much more rewarding emotion known as concert euphoria surfaced when the band unearthed "U16 Girls" from their repertoire. The setlist turned out to be the biggest surprise of the night; while Travis played up the new album, they chose some of my favorite songs from the past, including "As You Are," "Good Feeling," and "Pipe Dreams." Of course, we also got the hits, such as "All I Want to Do Is Rock," "Sing," and the crowd-pleasers from The Man Who, but that much was expected.

As with any Travis show, their music is an important facet of the night, but it's not the only one. The band also traffics in charm, an always elusive quality and one that hasn't diminished over the years. Fran Healy, ever effusive, wasn't as chatty as he used to be, but by any other measure, his warmth and engagement with the audience is second to none. And when he took his place right in front of me for two acoustic songs, I was pretty much in heaven (I love that PA-less shit).

Per usual, Fran and Dougie Payne worked the front of house, if you will, trading quips and other asides. From time to time, Andy Dunlop would charge in from stage left to join in the festivities, while Neil Primrose held steady on the drums. All the while, the band showed off their commitment to each other. Though it could be intense, such as when Fran set his steely attention on Neil, it was never heavy-handed, and it remained playful. Fran even talked Andy into climbing atop the speaker to touch the chandelier!



In the end, their sheer force of personality won me over (again) and silenced the music snob in my head. I was reminded of something Maudie said after the Jarvis Cocker show, about how the man is pure charisma. Travis, too, lays claim to that X factor, a viable and considerable component to any band's success. I don't know if it'll bring them the commercial rewards in the United States that they've always wanted, but from the looks of it, they've captured--and will continue to attract--a faithful fanbase.

Before I end this post, I want to add that it's been a great week for me, not just because of the string of shows I've just seen. I also had a chance to catch up with old friends, as well as hang out with more recent pals. We may not be united in terms of musical tastes these days, but I was very pleased to find that we can still have tons of fun with each other.

Goldspot from Los Angeles opened the show, and I could hear the similarities between their sound and Travis's music. They penned catchy, upbeat tunes. Though they weren't my cup of tea, the audience responded kindly to them.

See also:
» let him read your palm and guess your sign