“And we don’t give a fuck if it rains!” bawls Dan Glendinning over the billowing and actually-really-sodding-anthemic chorus of ‘100% Proof’. And face it, when there’s bound to be the odd Travis comparison it’s worthwhile having your defence sorted from the off. However, it’s not always been strummed serenity for Dan, who was last seen impersonating Eddie Veddar in the thinking man’s grungers Headswim, snapped up by Sony in the mid-90s during the scramble for a Brit response to Seattle’s then-bottomless revenue stream. As the century limped to a close, the ‘Swim made some more vaguely worthwhile murmurs before being predictably dropped and disbanding. In an ultimate act of self-reference he then regrouped alone, renamed himself after one of his own b-sides, roped in his brother and a couple of others and set about recording the songs he always could have been capable of, but often avoided capturing due to time and circumstance.
So these days it’s less ‘Black Hole Sun’ and more Bob Dylan in the driving rain. There’s a strong heart and poetic poise (spiritually if not quite literary) keeping these songs’ heads afloat. Although you feel if he did drown now it’d be with a quiet grace and a rich helping of memorable drama, rather than kicking around aimlessly in his DMs and being dragged down by the steel-toe-caps. And it’s mid-phase Travis that numerous tracks evoke – especially ‘Shadows’, ‘She Makes Me Smile’ and ‘Come Home’ – a time when Fran had woken up to the strength of his songwriting and the potential power of holding back, but hadn’t yet shaken off the need to open up, really let rip and sail off on the momentum he’d created.
There’s a wonderful flow to most of the tracks on here, an amble will often build to a loose swagger, then a brisk stride, a bounding run and finally a muscular sprint in the case of striking first single ‘Asleep At the Wheel’, a soaring ‘Count Them On One Hand’ and the aforementioned ‘100% Proof’. The same examples also prove he’s refined his US alt-rock tastes and now draws on the tasteful and thick influence of Dinosaur Jr’s fringe-flinging indie pop. His voice from start to finish has undergone a real Ugly Duckling transformation, where before he seemed almost frightened as to what he might find given a bit of tenderness. The piano led ‘Roadtrip’ closes the album with a syrupy maturity, as if to offer one last confirmation that he’s really got it right this time.