Writing
To Reach You: Even
while opening for Oasis, the Scottish hitmakers in Travis
adopt a novel approach: Humility.
Oasis,
Travis
Arlene
Schnitzer Concert Hall
1037 SW Broadway,
224-8499
8 pm Thursday,
April 6
$31.50-$35.50
Noel Gallagher
handles almost all of Oasis' songwriting. Liam makes his
first contribution on Standing on the Shoulder of Giants.
His song "Little James" is a touching, albeit egregiously
bad, ode to his son.
To defend Oasis is, in many ways, to defend the indefensible.
They are, after all, a complete outrage.
Two misbehaving brothers from Manchester rip off the Beatles
when they're not busy stealing from the Stones. Tales of
cocaine, pummeled photographers and freshly shagged groupettes
litter the wake of Liam and Noel Gallagher. At their hedonistic
zenith five or six years ago, the bad Brits could stir up
controversy just by glancing at the bridge of a journalist's
nose.
After years of inertia, the brothers Gallagher booted the
last remains of Oasis' original lineup and hit the sonic
psychedelics for Standing on the Shoulder of Giants,
a bid for renewed supremacy. Standing lacks much
of the lip-curling élan that built Oasis, and Noel's
songwriting is in a soggy state. But when they hit stride,
as they do on a couple of songs, it's clear that some of
the old vinegar remains on tap.
I've always harbored a guilty love for Oasis, in large
part because I'm certain that most of the snobs who dis
them would be confirmed fans if they were grad students
from Chapel Hill with a Matador Records contract. It takes
courage to be such wankers, and brains to be such thieves.
So when I had the chance to bother Liam for some, uh, insight
on the band's North American tour, I was on the phone in
a trice.
It was a fantastic interview, as you'll see below.
Willamette Week: Liam! How are you doing?
Liam Gallagher: Godlike.
I see. So how is the famous British press treating this
new album?
I think they're saying it's really terrible. If that's
the case, I'd hate to be in another band that was tryin'
to make that album.
Er, right. So now that you're over here, what's your
agenda for the U.S.?
The agenda? It's just to do the gigs and do what we were
always gonna do, knowhatuhmean? And that's it. Basically,
I'm about to kill myself and I wish I'd never joined the
band.
[Nervous laughter.] Really. [Nervous pause.]
So on this album, you've got a song about your son. Can
you manage to be an outrageous act and a family man?
For one, I'm not an act. For two, I've got feelings like
everyone else. You have your days or whatever. You've got
your cousins or your stepkids or whatever. And you have
your days when you're either feelin' it or you're not. I've
got plenty of feelings in me. So I can be a good dad and
I can be a bad dad and a pisser and a rock-and-roll star.
And I can be fuckin' Guns N' Roses if you want me to be.
[Contemplative pause.] This new album is a little bit
more, uh, psychedelic, for lack of a better word--
I don't think it's psychedelic. It's just a good album
by a band who's on their fourth album. People go on about
Morning Glory, and all that shit, and about Be
Here Now. Be Here Now is a great album. This
is a good album. It's not the best album we're gonna to
do, and it's not the best album we've done. If you do the
best album you're gonna do, then you should pack it.
Do you think at some point you'll say, "This is it?"
No, because we'll never make that best album. But
I think the next album we do will be great. It will be even
greater than what we've done. In fact, I know it will be.
Are you going to try to do some more songwriting for
the next one?
I'm not goin' to try anything! I don't need to try anything!
It comes to me piece o' piss [Note: This apparently means
"easily"]. I've wrote eight songs already. Either they make
it on the album or they don't. Doesn't matter.
Do you have any favorite American bands at present?
Nirvan're'gud.
[Long pause.] What's that?
Nirvana. Are. Good. And Hole. The Liars are good. Elvis
is good.
[Daffy laughter.] You know, some people would
argue that rock and roll has had its day.
Reggae music's been going on for years. People like reggae
music, but they don't do anything different. Seems to go
on forever, like. People write this fuckin' horrible dance
music. That seems to go on forever. People write, like,
fuckin' heavy metal, and that seems to go on forever. But
rock and roll always seems to be dyin' on the next band's
album, right? Well, rock and roll will go on forever whether
people like it or not. Whether it's Oasis or whatever. Rock
and roll will never die. As long as I'm here, I'll make
sure it doesn't die.
It does seem like every five or 10 years, it's incumbent
on someone to declare it dead.
Rock and roll will never die. It will never fuckin' die,
and that's the end of it. People should, like, get off rock
and roll's case and let people develop as a rock and roll
band.
Yeah. You never hear that jazz is dead, for example--
Yeah, well, jazz should be dead. Reggae music seems to
go on forever. All these fuckin' black guys from Jamaica
turn out the same ol' shite and get called the new Bob Marley.
It goes on forever. Who's the new John Lennon? Who's the
new Sid Vicious? Let It Be, knowhutuhmean? So rock
and roll fuckin' lives.
[Nervous pause.] Uh, right. [Another nervous pause.]
So...I've always read that you're soccer fans.
Like football, yeah.
So once and for all: Manchester City or Manchester United?
Man City.
Why?
'Cause I'm Blue, that's all.
So what do you think of the Manchester United media
hysteria?
That's like fuckin' McDonald's, mate. That's all it is.
What are you playing on this tour?
I'm playing my cock, partially.
[Concerned pause.] More songs off the new album, or...
All the singles off the first album, all the singles off
the second album, all the singles off the third, and then
we'll just play the new stuff, y'know? It's a good set,
man.
Are you tired of being in Oasis?
Me?
Yeah.
I'm not tired of fuck-all, mate. Why would I be tired of
being in the band?
Seems like kind of a grind.
How could I be tired of being in Oasis? It's fuckin' great.
How could I be tired of it?
Well, I guess...When you're here, you're going to be
playing in a very--
Nah, we're not doing it.
Uh...right.
No, I mean it, we've pulled the fucking lot. Me and Noel
are in a big fight and we're going home. I'll see
ya next year.
PREVIEW
Writing To Reach You
Even
while opening for Oasis, the Scottish hitmakers in Travis
adopt a novel approach: Humility.
BY JAMIE S. RICH
243-2122
The title of
Travis' sophomore album, The Man Who, is a truncated
reference to Oliver Sacks' book on schizophrenia, The
Man Who Mistook His Wife For A Hat.
Travis was the
opener for Oasis' UK Be Here Now tour two years ago.
Oasis songwriter Noel Gallagher also played with Travis
on a B-side for the band's 1998 single, "More Than Us."
The annual Glastonbury Festival in England is legendary
for its bad weather--three days of great music amidst one
of the nastiest mudholes in the U.K.'s rainy season. In
1999, for once, the weekend was surprisingly dry. Until
Scottish four-piece Travis took the stage.
Mid-set, the group played its radio hit, the desperately
sweet "Why Does It Always Rain On Me?," and on the last
chord, the heavens opened. A band that had been riding a
wave of success suddenly found itself with the seminal,
defining moment that would be sure to rear its head in every
press clipping from here to its demise.
"It was just a thing that happened, but it wasn't as joyous
as it might appear," Travis frontman Fran Healy says from
his hotel room in Birkin, Norway. "It was all these people
in T-shirts and vests enjoying the sunshine for the first
time at Glastonbury in four years, and we come onstage and
play this mad song. The rain wasn't just spitting, either,
it was pouring. When I got home that night, the TV came
on, and the press were all talking about it. People were
suddenly going 'Travis this,' and 'Fran Healy that.' I had
been unknown, but suddenly I was a name, and I was like,
'Oh, shit.'"
The humility isn't surprising, coming from an artist who
is more concerned with knowing about the time difference
between us than the actual interview. "It's amazing," he
says. "You're in daylight and it's not even midday yet,
and we're about to go to bed. The future's okay, though
I'm looking out the window and it's quite dark."
Despite the pall of the Norwegian sky, most of Travis'
career has seen the band walking firmly on the bright side.
The generally cynical UK press stumbled all over itself
to praise the band when the band's first single, "All I
Wanna Do Is Rock," landed in 1996. Similarly, the band's
first album, Good Feeling, showed an amazing range
of songs, full of melodic guitars, heartfelt lyrics and
the promise of even greater tunes to come.
No one was prepared for the success of The Man Who,
however; over the course of four Top 20 singles, the album
slowly climbed the UK charts, hitting No. 1 thirteen weeks
after its debut and going quintuple platinum.
Healy hopes the good buzz will generate activity here in
the Colonies, and he relishes the opportunity to show off
the band's musical muscle to fans looking to hear the odd
Oasis hit. In fact, Travis looks forward to once again taking
the opening slot after headlining so many gigs back home.
"We went eight years without anyone knowing who we were,
so we're more used it," Healy says, noting that a concert
is the ideal place for converting new followers. "Playing
live is like the difference between fresh vegetables and
processed vegetables in a can, vegetables you would rip
out of the ground straightaway versus vegetables you would
buy at the supermarket. It's almost chewable.
"I just want to play proper little songs with a little
something in them," he concludes. "The world generally is
full of junk music, processed piss that big giant corporations
are churning out to create more revenue. It's not about
songs anymore, but junk that's just going to pass straight
through you. It's like if you've eaten a McDonald's hamburger
and you've gone to the toilet and shat out the full burger.
Even if you eat it again, you still won't get anything out
of it. Same with junk music. It's colorful and bright, but
it's meaningless."
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Willamette Week | originally
published April 5,
2000
|
