By Jim Sullivan
Boston Globe
Thursday, February 11, 1999
Section Arts and Film, Page E5
A person has to have goals, and Chandler Travis — Cape Cod-based solo artist, singer-guitarist in the Incredible Casuals, and frontman/ namesake of the big band that is the Chandler Travis Philharmonic — mentions these two for 1999: to drink less beer and to smoke less pot. But, he adds, when he does do these things he plans “to do them more intensely.”
The bearded, scraggly-haired Travis is, by nature, a funny, self-deprecating chap. He brings a sense of humor to his performance — in which he might appear barefoot and in pajamas and strut down the length of the bar — and he brings it to the table at the Globe cafeteria during a recent early evening chat.
Near the end of the interview, during which more than a few laughs have been had, Travis, 48, turns semi-serious and says, “If you could write a whole article without using the words `zany’ or `wacky’ I would be ever so grateful.”
Sorry, can’t do. But we can, at least, leave wacky-zany where he’s left it. The problem is, as Travis sees it, is that over the years his humor has been overplayed and his music has been shorted. Yes, he admits, “there is a certain thread of silliness, but there’s a lot of serious work, too.” Silliness? Well, consider a self-mocking song the CTP does called “Chandler Travis, King of the World,” in which Travis himself wonders where Travis might be right now and conjectures, “Probably in his private jet in France / Or maybe backstage right now having sex with one of the waitresses.”
Desiring to interject a semblance of balance into his career, Travis has just released a solo album, “Ivan in Paris,” a contemplative folk-pop disc that recalls the introspective side of Elvis Costello. There’s an old-timey feel, a cozy ambience, an unhurried pace. It’s not without wit and it’s not without its skewed moments, but for Travis it’s a relative straight-shooter of a disc.
“The idea came from my sister,” says Travis. “She said, ‘Why don’t you make a record that’s a little more, you know, mature? That doesn’t put people who are over 40 off somehow? Make an album for your own [expletive] age group for a change.’ ”
Travis says, “I have always written stuff like that, but in the Casuals I get a chance to pretend I’m 18 as much as I want to. The Casuals are kind of an age-retarded band. I don’t mean that in a bad way.”
“I wanted to make a ballad record,” Travis says. “And the record I had in mind was ‘Interiors’ by Rosanne Cash. I love that album. I wanted to get something that had that kind of moodiness, that was reflective. My goal was to have something that you could play all the way through late at night and not have to jump up and take anything off. I couldn’t quite do that. I put together 50 minutes and it was a little bit dull, so I put in a couple that were a little more up-tempo, just to make it so you could not get bored.”
“What I am proudest of, of what I do, is the songwriting and arranging. I love making a mess onstage too, but that’s been adequately covered.”
The Chandler Travis Philharmonic, Travis’s main performing vehicle, at present, is a more freewheeling, wild-eyed affair. The band is two years old, usually has eight or nine players, and is “pretty close to my heart,” says Travis. The horn section swings; there’s an accordionist/mandolinist adding color. A CD, “Her Spanish Suitcase,” is coming out shortly. (It’s been ready for a year, but financial trouble at the record label, Popllama, has delayed it.) Chandler calls the CTP’s music “alternative Dixieland.” They’ll play lounge songs, Pat Boone’s “Wang Dang Taffy Apple Tango Mambo Cha-Cha-Cha,” Duke Ellington’s “Transblucency.” In concert, affecting the persona of a madman, Travis will sing Glenn Styler’s “You Killed My Love” with particular ferocity and choose a lucky gal to sing the song to. They also play originals.
“I never would have started a horn band on purpose,” Travis says. “It’s always so non-rock ‘n’ roll. But this is leading me into all sorts of things I would never dreamed of. It’s getting me closer to the idea of playing jazz, which I always felt inhibited about. I’m not really a player, but I can write and arrange in that direction.”
“What I’m trying to be is a professional anachronism — my stuff is steadily, completely out of step with what’s going on. But I think it’s a good post — I think you need these guys.”
The Incredible Casuals are Travis’s longtime mainstay. They began in 1978, after Travis and his partner in the Travis-Shook band split.
The Casuals were originally going to be called the Susan Anton People. Better minds prevailed. They are the Sunday afternoon house band during the summer at the Beachcomber in Wellfleet. To describe their sound, Travis likes to use the word “omnipop,” the word coined by pal Terry Adams of NRBQ to describe eclectic all-encompassing pop music. “Noisy, fairly up-tempo,” continues Travis, of the Casuals.
Travis says he’s balanced the joy he gets from writing and performing with the frustration of not having greater commercial success. “The thing I really learned in the Philharmonic, more than ever, is that [the music] is its own reward. I’m very proud of what we do and I’d love to see it have a little more effect. I don’t know how to say it in a way that’s not really, really, dead pretentious, but you know, I feel like I can help.”