Travis

Chris Martin, the singer of Coldplay, once introduced Travis as "the band that invented my band and lots of others." Whether you see this as a contribution to the overall musical landscape or a detriment, it's still pretty much accurate. In fact, in the four years since Travis' last studio album (12 Memories), dozens of mopey Englishmen (Keane, Aqualung, Athlete, Embrace, etc.) have come forth to replicate the band's unabashed sensitivity. Travis' fifth album is intent on reclaiming the territory. Sadly, it doesn't succeed.

The Boy with No Name is largely comprised of unmemorable soft rock. The first single, "Closer," is sweet and heartfelt but the verse, which promises great things, is followed by a chorus that never delivers on the soaring potential. Overall, that's exactly why Boy suffers. Singer Fran Healy's fragile, tiptoeing vocals hardly rise above the range of softness and, doubled with the band's consistently timid instrumentation, the songs start to meld one into the other with few discernable differences.

Commendably, "Selfish Jean" and "Eyes Wide Open" do, in fact, attempt to rock as if the group had suddenly discovered amps, and "Big Chair" could even be mistaken for a Radiohead outtake from Kid A. And yet, Travis still somehow finds a way to make them sound like the musings of a milquetoast.

- Arye Dworken
05.08.07

Early in their career, Travis sounded like Oasis crossed with U2, and as the years rolled steadily on, they gradually replaced Oasis with Radiohead, without ditching that devotion U2. Travis may have cut out any of their overt rock influences, yet they retained the everyday, boys-next-door image that was so common in all the post-Britpop guitar bands, and that humility served them well on their 1999 sophomore effort, The Man Who, a commercial breakthrough that also established the soft, shimmering sound that was their signature. Unfortunately for them, not long after that album, they were eclipsed by Coldplay, another Radiohead-U2 fusion that managed to keep some sense of majesty to their music, something that Travis, sensible lads that they are, seemed to studiously avoid. In the wake of that simultaneous success and eclipse, the group survived some professional and personal struggles, taking four years to record their fifth album, 2007's The Boy with No Name. Far from being a long-gestating leap forward, The Boy with No Name offers a comfortable, familiar Travis, but there is a slight, subtle difference: the band has truly embraced their modesty, settling into their gentleness. There's a mild, untroubling weariness to their performances here that suits them quite well; it deepens the music, makes their deliberate tempos resonate, it makes the quietness feel contemplative, it even makes the cleanliness of the production feel right, a reflection of their maturity. If the melodies don't really dig in, they nevertheless float sweetly, meshing into the overall fabric and feel of the album. If the music never quite soars, it never seems as if the band is struggling in vain to achieve take-off, either. For the first time since The Man Who, Travis doesn't seem to strive to achieve something, they just exist, and their music is better for it. They're still ordinary, almost painfully so, but they don't seem pedestrian, they seem to have weathered some ups and downs, channeling that experience into an album that has a slight, yet palpable, emotional resonance that their predecessors often lacked. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide