The men who made it
big. Travis are (l-r)
Andy Dunlop, Fran
Healy, Dougie Payne and Neil Primrose. Image: Steve Gullick
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In the 25 years since Why Does It Always Rain On Me? was released by Travis, precipitation in Glasgow has increased by 10-20%. The song is more relatable than ever to those in the west of Scotland, as thousands belting it back at Travis on stage at the OVO Hydro prove.
It’s become an “unofficial anthem of this city,” Fran Healy tells the crowd, “because it’s aye pishin’”.
Travis (Healy with bandmates Andy Dunlop, Dougie Payne and Neil Primrose) are back home supporting The Killers on an epic arena tour. It was at a Travis gig in Las Vegas in 2001 that Killers frontman Brandon Flowers decided to re-dedicate himself to forming a band. Travis were touring with Oasis at the time, so they can share credit for him becoming a rock ’n’ roll star.
At the turn of the millennium Travis’s second album, The Man Who, made them one of the most listened to bands in the world. Smoothing down the brasher side of Britpop, they replaced sneering swagger with a delicate introspection that remains hugely influential.
Healy with Chris Martin recording the 20th anniversary version of Band Aid’s Do They Know It’s Christmas? in 2004. Image: Dave Hogan / Getty
Travis paved the way for Glastonbury saviours Coldplay. Healy and Chris Martin are friends. “Chris’s mission – he’s a force for good,” Healy says. “His thing is going out and making people forget for a second that they’re stuck on this plane. It might involve putting wristbands on [but] he’s created this realm for people to enter into.
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“I remember Chris and I were chatting when The Killers were coming through in around 2005. He’s like, ‘That Brandon guy has got it. You can tell it in his eyes.’
“Every single person that I know in our business – what they all have in common is not musical talent. That’s a given. You need to be able to do keepie-uppies to play football, right? You need to want it, that’s the thing. And if you want it, you can have it.”
It sounds simple, but Travis have never had it easy.
The Man Who emerged in 1999 after “tectonic plates had shifted in my life” and, still on songwriting duties, Healy says that similar shifts have led to Travis’s new album, L.A. Times, released today (12 July).
On tour with Travis in Cardiff in 1999. Image: Rob Watkins / Alamy
Healy reflects on the early days of the band. “Back then my granda passed away. He was a tectonic plate in my life – gone. That loosened me up. There’s no such thing as permanence. Let’s move the furniture around, it’s not screwed to the floor.
“I changed the band. We got rid of [original members] Chris and Geoff [Martyn], which was really hard because it was their band. Their mum and dad had let us rehearse in their house forever. But it just wasn’t right. So we got Dougie [Payne, bassist] in. He looked great and he was a mate. Suddenly the band became four mates.
“Moving to London, getting a record deal, managers. Your snow globe is well shaken. Eventually the snow settles, and a new landscape appears. This time around it feels the same. It’s been a fucking storm. My mate Ringan [Ledwidge], who did the Turn and Coming Around videos died. Ringan was the most amazing human, one of my best mates. Nora [Healy’s wife] and I separated.
“Covid happened. We sacked our manager of 25 years. You go whoa, hold on a second. You don’t love us… I knew there was something missing in this relationship. Right, fuck off. It’s like a football manager that doesn’t love his team. Imagine. But it took a while for us to pick up on that.
“Ironically, the father of the two boys that we had to lose years and years ago, gave me one of the best bits of advice. At dinner before rehearsal one day he’s like, ‘You’re a very instinctive young man’. I was maybe 18 at the time. He said, ‘You need to listen to that voice 100%. Don’t ever, ever question it.’ So I did. In the end his sons get ejected from the band but he understood why I had to do that.
“I stopped trusting that voice for a very long time,” Healy continues. “Now my laser is focused firmly back on the band. I’ve got this pure clarity about what I want.”
Big Issue meets Healy in an exclusive West End hotel, fizzing with energy despite fighting off a throat infection. He’s currently responding to a thinning pate by dying the remaining tufts flame orange. Last night during their set, he directs the spotlight towards a section where his family is sitting, each in their own orange clown wig. “Strong genes,” he said, quite self-deprecating about how he stands out in a crowd.
Healy grew up in Possilpark, only a couple of miles or so away from the plush hotel, but distant in other ways. Being working class “never leaves you”, he says.
“The music business is predominantly middle class. And I don’t hold it against anyone for being middle class, but I think being working class is a superpower.
“I know how hard it is to get a record deal. But the struggle for kids to get to that point – Brandon is working class, Noel and Liam [Gallagher] are working class – the struggle happens a lot earlier because you don’t have these options on the menu. I remember hearing about art school and going, what’s that? I didn’t know. You’re not given the menu because it’s not meant for you.”
On the new album, the title track is inspired by the contrast between rich and poor that Healy sees in the city he moved to a few years ago. “The homeless situation is unlike anything I’ve ever seen,” he explains.
“The whole place feels like it could explode at any minute.”
It’s one of several tracks that signal a resounding return to form. Bus is a beautifully melodic opener, Gaslight already a sing-along fan favourite. On Raze The Bar Chris Martin and Brandon Flowers join the chorus. Travis are well connected, respected and after a bumpy ride – that included drummer Primrose breaking his back – are set to return to previous highs. This time better prepared.
“I think Travis are like a Cessna. A beautifully built lovely little single-prop aircraft, good enough for four people to fly in at 5,000 feet,” Healy says. “We flew that at about 60,000 feet and shit was flying off. We managed to pull it down and repair it. We’ve had an amazing career. But I really feel like giving it another go. I feel as competitive if not more than I did when I was 23. Unfinished business, there’s no other way to explain it.
“I really have to stress that we’re really special,” he adds emphatically. “I love my band so much. Four people, we’ve been together for 32 years. And if a band stayed together that long, and they’ve done no bad, written some pretty decent songs, you can never write them off.”
L.A. Times is out now. Travis tour the UK in December.Get more details here.
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