Travis, Ode to J. Smith

Twelve years and six albums into a career which — to the band's own dismay — peaked too soon, Travis have re-energized themselves. Inspired by working with George Martin on a Sgt. Pepper tribute and compelled to hurry by the imminent birth of bassist Dougie Payne's son (so civilized are modern-day soft-rock groups that paternity leave had been agreed), they wrote this record in a month and recorded it in two weeks on 16-track analogue. Released on their own label, it's busy with ideas and surprisingly muscular. It reminds us that the Scots first appeared in '96 hollering “All I Wanna Do Is Rock,” and only later morphed into purveyors of sing-along stadium sops indistinguishable, for the most part, from the vanilla flavorings of Keane and Snow Patrol. While peers Coldplay somehow went supernova, Travis drew back.

The three-minute pop songs here are clearly Beatles-fuelled, blending the band's own knack for lilting melody with inventive sonic quirks. Andy Dunlop hurls in more wailing guitar solos than he's previously been allowed, while on the centerpiece “J. Smith” his squalls bookend the Crouch End Festival Choir singing in Latin. Their eerie, engrossing chants bring a touch of The Exorcist to what might otherwise be generic and unremarkable Healy observations about Everyman. “Something Anything” begins as predictably inoffensive Travis fare before going up a gear into a more abrasive, string-stretching rock-out that wouldn't have seemed out of place on a Dinosaur Jr. album. Producer Emery Dobyns (Antony & the Johnsons, Battles, Patti Smith) encourages the band's eagerness to embrace spontaneity and urgency: the angst of second-guessing has been eschewed and they sound liberated. It's not all great — tracks like “Last Words” and “Song to Self” are too obviously McCartney-derived and see Travis being too pleasant and smooth for their own good again — but generally this is a case of a somewhat spent outfit rediscovering their cool, passion and candor.