Travis, The Man Who

Are ye feelin' a bit twee?

Life, love and taxes got ya down? Worried because the girlfriend says she wants to "talk about the relationship"? Bummed because your dad won't let you play your Limp Bizkit records at top volume (he'd be sooo much cooler if he wasn't such an ass)? Do you walk beneath a constant cloud and hear Morrissey in your head all the live long day?

If any of the above is true, then Travis is here to carefully sink you slightly lower into the doldrums. Their American debut record, The Man Who, has just hit the shelves and is the perfect remedy for the workaday blues. They're Radiohead mixed with the Backstreet Boys. And that's a complement. Unlike some of their Britpop peers, they're not too concerned with constructing dense, complex progrock cuts that go nowhere slowly.

Nope, all they want is an acoustic guitar, a damp field in Camden and a prettily pouty melody like "Why Does it Always Rain on Me?" That's the kind of song that will put you in an exquisite funk even if you think you're in a good mood. There's a reason why it's the first single; its light bomping rhythm and catchy acoustic guitar riffs sulk their way right up into the bedroom of your brain, curl up on the bed and flip idly through the latest Q. It's brilliant pout-rock.

Those Radiohead comparisons will definitely leap out at you when you give The Man Who its debut spin in your player. That should come as no big shock, since Nigel Godrich, the producer who helmed Radiohead's OK Computer, sits behind the boards on most of the Travis CD as well. Lead singer Fran Healy also happens to do a fantastic Thom Yorke impersonation that will occasionally keep you guessing; did Healy get sick one day and call Yorke in to sub on "As You Are"? Are we sure? It's eerie sometimes.

The Man Who benefits hugely from Godrich's production; he keeps things light when they're supposed to be light, and heavy when the music's emotion amps up. When the guitarwork gets dense, you can really feel the chords punch you in the gut. The band does some fantastic work with arrangements, too; the way the piano glides in and out of the melody line on "The Last Laugh of the Laughter" is exquisite, for example. The band also has a huge asset in Healy's voice, which slides in and out of its whimpering moans with uncommon grace.

Unfortunately, there's not much in the way of substance to go with the pretty melodies, lovely singing and able production, which is one might invoke the Boys of Backstreet. After all, the lyrical content rarely rises above this choice couplet, from "As You Are": "Everyday I wake up alone/I'm not like all the other boys." Poor pouty rock star, fronting an internationally-recognized combo and OH so lonely. One might imagine that if some Brit promoter got it in their mind to create an alternateen boy band that would eschew pop convention for a glazed Britpop sound, this record would be the result.

Once again, that's not a bad thing. At the end of the day, Travis is twee as yer mum's knickers, and The Man Who is a sweet slice of melancholy ear candy, ultra-pretty but a bit too easy on the mind. If you can stomach some occasionally overwrought lyrics and a general lack of depth in the wordsmith department, let the lilting melodies carry your heart away. And if you haven't just broken up with someone but want to feel like you have, this is the must-buy album of the year.