Fran Healy proudly announced he had "a good feeling" on the band's debut album six years ago. Pretty much all his motley 'nice' gang wanted to do back then was rock; they couldn't wait to tell us how happy they were. How times change.
If the arrival of 2001's 'The Invisible Band' was a jarring shock to worshippers at the altar of the timeless 'The Man Who' and confirmation that Travis were never destined for greatness, then '12 Memories' will make you wonder why you even bothered thinking as much in the first place.
Clearly, Fran Healy's mental state fuels Travis' zest, in sickness and in health. It's easy to imagine that he once lived on a pre-Atkins diet consisting of nothing more than frayed nerves and futile romantic posturing, such was the raw emotion invested in his music.
But since he entered wedlock he's understandably been less troubled in the love-loss department. Consequently, as '12 Memories' demonstrates, his songwriting has become toothless and settled, never a good thing. There's no sign of the spice or substance that got the band where they are today. No explanation is needed when you're confronted with track titles like 'Quicksand', 'Happy to Hang Around' and 'Mid-life Krysis'.
But it's not all bad. The refreshing cello/piano partnership in 'Quicksand', directly followed by the invention of 'The Beautiful Occupation', is an encouraging, if ultimately false, dawn. 'Love Will Come Through' is worthy of championing and 'Re-Offender' just about stakes a claim to be one of the band's better singles.
Then things start going horribly wrong. 'Peace The F*ck Out' is about as politically motivating as the Tory leadership and how 'Paperclips' made the LP defies belief. Both tracks are symptomatic of the pace that rarely exceeds a pitter-patter. It's akin to running up the escalator the wrong way, fighting the rush hour tide, sand slipping through your fingers... you get the picture. Tellingly, not once does '12 Memories' demand anything from the listener and it's all too easy to become distracted and switch off.
Travis have strived tirelessly for some kind of recognition ever since they were branded tame Oasis wannabes. They deservedly found it but are now in danger of losing it just as quickly. There's certainly an empty space - you can almost see the indents left by 'passion' and 'purpose' - and it needs to be filled if they're to rescue the situation in time.
Until then what we're left with is a bitterly disappointing, lacklustre album that is sadly short of distinct memories of any kind.
