L.A.Times, the title track of Travis' tenth album, opens with the sounds of wailing police sirens and whirring helicopter blades, frontman Fran Healy talking aloud as he walks the streets of his adopted hometown ("I look around and all I see is pain and suffering, reflected on the 50 facets of a diamond ring") and swiftly declaring, "Get me off this fucking rock before I fucking fry."
The song is a striking, somewhat surreal vision of the stark inequalities that exist in the City of Angels, with Healy, 50, sounding like a man at the end of his tether, his frustration and fury all the more palpable for being delivered in calm, measured tones. For those more used to hearing the singer's warm, welcoming voice on huge, stadium-friendly radio hits such as Sing, Driftwood, or Why Does It Always Rain On Me? it's quite disconcerting.
Healy has described L.A. Times as his band's most personal album since The Man Who, Travis' hugely successful second album, released back in 1999, which made the Glasgow band superstars in Britain, and paved the way for the likes of Coldplay and a generation of introspective, thoughtful singer/songwriters. It's an album which seeks to make sense of the modern world, and of the journey Healy has taken to reach this point: it's also an album that might remind people that Fran Healy is one of Britain's most gifted and often under-rated songwriters.
Today, on the morning after lengthy celebrations for his son's high school graduation, the flame-haired musician is a little tired, but he's charming, funny, engaging and extremely honest as he looks back over his career, recent turmoil in his professional and personal life, and his hopes for what may lie ahead in his second half-century on this "fucking rock".
