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12.07.13 Music Week 17
Did you have much input into the Kobalt decision or was that an Ian thing? Oh, no - we were heavily involved. We were speaking with a few different people like BMG and Kobalt. I had a relationship with BMG through Berlin [where Healy lives], through Hartwig [Masuch, BMG CEO]. They’re a good company but I felt that Kobalt, logistically speaking, were in better shape at the moment. I think [the masters business] at BMG will be in great shape six months from now, we just couldn’t wait. The thing that attracted me to them both was their publishing background - they are song-orientated companies. They’re branching into something that’s unknown.
It seems like the perfect setup for someone who understands rights and has perhaps been through the record business mill.. Right. The deal with Kobalt is really fair. You give away your rights but it’s not in perpetuity, which I think is heinous. Don’t get me started on that - it will just make bad copy.
I bet it won’t.
and others [laughs]. Those two would take a bullet for you. Again, we met them in a bar, in the World’s End. There’s a theme running through our career... I’m sad Colin and Ian had to part, but sometimes mum and dad have to go their separate ways. Ian’s a very cool customer.
It seems like quite a brave step to just say, ‘Let’s do this on our own label now.’ On Ode To J Smith, I’d come off Independiente. The thing I didn’t like about that [major-affiliated] experience is that sometimes you had someone else’s choice of staff. It’s your baby, and you’d think of [label staff ]: ‘Do they get what we’re trying to do? I’m not sure they get it.’ Every band Andy [MacDonald] ever signed ran in his blood. Sadly, you can’t always hire people who have the same blood type as you - and Andy’s a rare breed. I found it hard sometimes, especially towards the end, when you’d inherit people. We were signed worldwide to Sony. It’s a gamble - you don’t know who you’ll get. Every year, you’d come in and there’d be new people. It’d be like, ‘Who the fuck are you?’ ‘I’m from this or that company - I worked at BMG before.’ Everyone worked hard and was cool, but I said to Ian on Ode To J Smith that I’d prefer it if we could avoid any record company contact and try and assemble a team of people around us who are great. We wanted to hire Emma Greengrass off the bat. We’ve been wanting to hire Emma since 2003. But our contract with Andy didn’t permit that and he had marketing in place with Anthony McGee [in 2004], who was brilliant - but when Anthony went he was replaced. On Ode To J Smith we couldn’t get Emma, so we sort of did it ourselves. That was fine. The record came and went, it wasn’t a singles record, it was more like an art project. So then I did my solo thing, and again, for better or for worse we A&R’d it ourselves - and here we are now.
How are the band feeling about the new campaign? We’re in really good shape: personally, professionally, artistically, it’s all covered. We wanted
to do it ourselves, but this time [to McAndrew], it was like: ‘Pleeeease can we try and get Emma.’ And luckily, she was free. That’s been the big game- changer for us. I’ve known Emma since I moved to London. She is for me the best in the business. She’s assembled this insanely good team around us with all these great people. It was her choice to do a two-single album release, to which I was like: ‘Excellent.’ I hate talking about our band like this, but she’s aware that as a brand, there’s a trust and a fondness for us out there, which has had the shutter pulled down on it for a few years. Emma wants to reintroduce us, and we’ve never been in better shape. Not even with Andy Mac were we so organised. The big problem with having huge massive hits is that people can’t keep their eyes off them. It’s hard - you’re living in the shadow of these things. But I think we’ve been away long enough. This record is the strongest, most cohesive album we’ve done in ages. I still feel that thing that all bands should feel - because when you don’t it’s time to give up. You’ll just be an old, grey fucker, joylessly churning out the hits.
Why does Ode To J Smith sound grittier and less pure-pop Travis than any of your other records? We didn’t write any singles for it. We’ll do a record like that every couple of albums now I think. We just went into a room and rocked out - it reminded me of our first album in that way. It’s like making an album with your backs to the world, not listening to what they think or expect.
Have you noticed a big difference in the way you’ve written for this album, collaboratively, rather than it all coming down to you? Of course. Dougie’s written a few songs on the album, Andy’s done two, I’ve done three but had my fingers in every one else’s as usual. Dougie’s songs have pushed my voice to places I don’t want it to go anymore, but it should go. I’m glad he’s pushing me. And Andy’s songwriting style is great - it’s funny, his are my favourites on the album.
ABOVE
The way we were: Starting with their second LP, The Man Who (1999) and ending with their fifth, 12 Memories (2003), Travis enjoyed a run of three consecutive UK platinum albums
I do think of my songs as my kids. And you would never sell or give your kids away knowing that they’d never come back to you. But you have to do that sometimes in the music business in order to get good terms for your deal. It’s what managers have to do more and more. And there’s now another option. What we’re doing isn’t the new model, it’s just another model. I still believe that we [as artists] need record companies. But we as Travis don’t. We’ve been there and done it.
Need them as in ‘need them to build an audience when you’re young’? Look, record companies are important. They take on the fight. But - and I don’t mean this in a gloaty way - it would be nice if they didn’t do that ‘let’s keep the rights forever’ thing, if they just made that a rule. That to me really harks back to the early days of the music business in the ‘50s and ‘60s. It’s wrong. I feel strongly about it. I’m a parent of songs, and you shouldn’t fuck with those things. Sure, take them for 10, 15 years and do what you like - have them, squeeze the pips out of them. But for God’s sake, give us them back when they’re just a big, saggy bag of skin. Business is so hard and impenetrable, it sometimes isn’t sensitive to the more artistic side of things.
We spoke to Squeeze last year who re-recorded their classic tracks so they could own some masters… I understand, but I hate it when bands do that. You’re 30 years older and as a fan I’m not going to buy that record. Maybe thinking as a publisher, if it’s about getting on an advert, it can be about your royalties. I don’t know. I’m not furious about all this - I've been fortunate enough to do well in this business. But as a parent, I feel there should be a trifle more respect for parents of songs. As Colin Lester once wisely told me when we first signed with him: ‘Songs are the currency of this business.’ If it wasn’t for those little three-minute things, we wouldn’t have a business - we’d be selling biscuits. And if [labels] were selling biscuits or sugared water, as Steve Jobs said, they could keep the fucking rights forever. But songs are different. It’s an emotional connection you’re messing with.
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