It’s been decades since Travis first charmed their way into the hearts of post-Britpop listeners, but at the Liverpool Olympia, the Scottish rock veterans discovered we’re just as fond of them as ever. Formed in Glasgow in the early ’90s, the band went on to release era-defining albums like The Man Who and The Invisible Band, cementing their place in British music history. On this particular evening, the Olympia had the middle aged out in their masses (we think we saw one hand go up in answer to the question “who was born after 1995? Because this song is older than you”), eager to revisit those days and celebrate the band’s enduring legacy.
From the start, lead singer Fran Healy was effusive in his gratitude, thanking the audience repeatedly for showing up. “Music is so accessible today,” he noted, “but you’ve chosen to buy a ticket and be here. This is where music actually exists—right here, live.” Healy’s musings on the nature of music in the digital age felt particularly poignant from a band whose early success coincided with the rise of the CD era, long before streaming became king. Healy even joked about the future of music consumption: “One day, we’ll all just have a chip in our heads, and as soon as you think of Travis *chord strum*” The crowd humorously scoffed, but the underlying message was clear—there’s still nothing quite like the experience of live music. Doubly so on a drizzly Sunday night.
Travis opened with “Bus,” a track from their latest album, L.A. Times, a testament to their continued creativity three decades into their career. While the newer material showed the band’s evolution, the real magic happened when they delved into their back catalogue. Early in the set, the familiar chords of “Driftwood” and “Love Will Come Through” transported the audience back to the late ’90s and early 2000s (or season three of Greys Anatomy if you’re like us), when the band was at the height of their powers. These songs, once staples of radio playlists and festival stages, felt timeless in this intimate venue.
But the night wasn’t all nostalgia. Healy’s sense of humour shone through, especially when he pointed out the Olympia’s middle tier, comparing its protruding circle booths to the set of The Muppet Show and honestly we’ll never not see it now. We fully expect to see Statler and Waldorf up there making snarky comments next time we visit. The image was only made funnier by Healy himself, whose bright red hair gave him a passing resemblance to Beaker. Moments like this reminded the audience of the band’s charm—not just as musicians, but as performers who don’t take themselves too seriously.
Not taking themselves to seriously means that balancing the new with the nostalgic is a piece of cake. Tracks like “Closer” and “Turn” showcased the rich melodies that helped define Travis’s sound during their mainstream breakthrough. By the time they performed “Side,” from The Invisible Band, it was clear that their ability to craft emotionally resonant yet approachable songs hasn’t faded. Healy reflected on their history with a mix of warmth and self-deprecation, admitting that their commercial success was a total fluke. He shared the story of a music journalist who once lavished praise on one of their records but followed it up with the backhanded comment, “You’ll never sell a copy.”
Healy also took time between songs to emphasize his belief in writing about something real, introducing many of the night’s tracks with rambling, heartfelt explanations of what they meant at the time. This included a hat trick of what he jokingly described as “fuck-you” songs, proving that even Travis’s gentler exterior has its moments of edge.
One of the night’s more memorable moments came during the encore, when the band delivered a jubilant cover of Britney Spears’s “…Baby One More Time.” It was unexpected, fun, and entirely in line with the light-hearted spirit of the evening. This was followed by “Flowers in the Window,” a song that has become a signature of the band’s live sets. Its simple, heartfelt charm had the entire venue swaying together, arms swung over shoulders like the good old days.
The show closed, fittingly, with “Why Does It Always Rain on Me?”—the band’s most iconic anthem and a song that catapulted them into the mainstream in the late ’90s. As the final notes rang out and the audience sang along with every word, it was a reminder of how far the band has come and how much of a mark they left on the shared British music psyche.
From their early days in Glasgow to their position as one of Britain’s most beloved bands, to reminding us some 30 years later of the ever increasing value of live music. In a venue where their biggest hits mingled with laughter and cheers, it was clear that here, live, is exactly where music still thrives.
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