If there's one band who will be forever plagued with requests for their biggest hit - no matter how good the rest of their material is - it's Travis. At this stage, they must be resigned to the fact that no matter where they go, or how old they get, their 1999 hit 'Why Does It Always Rain On Me?' will get the biggest cheer and the maximum crowd participation of the night. It was the album that spawned said single - The Man Who - that transformed Travis from scruffy Glaswegian rockers to the bona fide indie charmers that they are today, and following a four year hiatus (sparked by an accident that broke drummer Neil Primrose's back), the quartet are back with their fifth studio album. Healy has previously said that if it hadn't been for their imposed intermission, the band would probably not have continued together; but The Boy With No Name sees them return to their jangly, upbeat-indie sound after the largely dark, tense and oft-disjointed 12 Memories. With production duties undertaken by Travis knob-twiddler of choice Nigel Godrich (as well as handiwork by Brian Eno and Mike Hedges), their line of accessible, anthemic indie doesn't break any new musical ground or see the band shuffle, hands-in-pockets, where they haven't shuffled already. The problem, however, lies with their 'nice Scottish boys' image that makes them so bloody hard to dislike. Many songs here are predictably similar in tone and sound; 3 Times And You Lose, Battleships and One Night are unremarkable and pedestrian affairs - but for every beige number there's a Big Chair, with its dark, gurgling bassline, a crashing cascade of drums and Doves/Elbow-style expansive indie sound as heard on Colder, or a bouncy, upbeat pop frolic like that of Selfish Jean's. Even lead single Closer's bridge and chorus are undeniably catchy once you've gotten over the initial saccharine rush. This particular Travis will probably always be more Merle than Bickle - but as far as lush indie-pop goes, these nice Scottish boys are as reliable as you can get.
