In a field where entropy reigns supreme, Travis has managed to transcend the undying trend of musical deterioration. While bands like Weezer – whose repertoire has festered over time – progressively defecate sub-par albums, Travis stay true to their inoffensively twee charm by sticking to what they know best (all things whimsical) and by keeping it simple as a group of unassuming chaps that doesn’t depend on bombast to rouse intrigue and the like (ahem, Oasis’ Liam Gallagher).

While it lacks any considerable innovation as far as sound and execution go, The Boy With No Name is a hearty departure from 2003’s angular and melancholy 12 Memories. The warm and upbeat “”Selfish Jean”” kicks off a Motown reminiscence that showcases the band’s keen ability to craft catchy pop songs, and a loaded proclamation of the album’s sentiment spills from first single “”Closer”” with lines like “”Just need to get closer/ Lean on me now.”” Genuine earnesty is kept up along heartfelt numbers regarding real-world humdrum, including relationship woes on “”Battleships”” and fatherhood on “”My Eyes.””

Given the combination of Fran Healy’s charming lilt, irresistibly singable melodies and tenderhearted themes, it’s not difficult to see how the foursome has effortlessly managed to pitch a quaint little tent in so many people’s soft spots. Never ones to reinvent the wheel, Travis provide a very nonspecific climate that allows for a light, thirst-quenching listen – at worst, the album has found them in a spot of inconsistence, but with such a soothing aura in tow, it can hardly be considered a blemish on their reputation.