IT was like a haunting. The lilting songs of Travis, blessed by Fran Healey's angelic voice, maintained a ghostly presence in the singles charts for four long years.

A soft triumph of artistic introversion. Organic songs from a band with no image and no recognisable genre - just an ability to lock into the subconscious.

Such a dizzying success, carrying these four unlikely stars from a tiny world of hopeful sets in crumbling Glasgow rehearsal rooms to the frenzied maelstrom that swirls around one of the biggest acts on the planet.

Blessed with an easy band dynamic and a seemingly rich seam of evocative song-writing, Travis created the template for thoughtful, voice orientated post-Brit pop - an area soon to be enhanced by the related strains of Coldplay and Keane.

However, when the images of Travis started to flicker uneasily in the tabloids, alongside Paul McCartney, Elton John and Graham Nash, that natural ease started to noticeably fade.

Bizarre incidents such as the near death of drummer Neil Primrose, after diving into a half empty swimming pool, served only to increase the pressure.

Were Travis about to implode?

"It did spin totally out of controlit became scary for a while," said guitarist Andy Dunlop.

"We enjoyed each other's company and there really was very little tension between us. But the pressure still builds.

"We lost sight of the reason we started the band in the first place. It is just taken away from you."

Fran agreed: "It's the age old problem. When you are living in a swirl of hotels and back stages you are taken out of the experience of everyday lifeand there is nothing to write about. It just dried up.

"After Live8 and T in the Park in 2005, we just had to get away and do some living.

"We had existed in that bubble for so long and it was becoming both stale and insane. If we had made an album at that point, it would have sounded jaded."

Andy added: "Not that we are complaining. There is nothing worse than whingeing rock stars."

Travis are not really the whingeing kind. One hesitates to use the wordnice'. Can't have nice rock stars, can we.

"It's a big problem," said Fran.

"We are not blandly nice personalitiesbut we are reasonable people who experience the same problems as anybody else. We are not stars, anyway. It's not in our make-up. We are from Glasgow, after all."

Understanding this problem, Travis vanished. Unable to even fall out in time-honoured rock star fashion, they had no alternative other than to become lost to normality, go on holidays, have babies, build porches.

Anything that would distance them from the mounting pressures of stardom. Now they are back and refreshingly so.

Proudly boasting a new album, The Boy With No Name, it glistens with gentle nuggets and effortless rock-outs, chiselled from a solid mass of 40 odd songs.

It has already provided further chart haunting. It's far from easy, however, to return in such a fashion.

I wondered how they found the confidence to take these songs to the studio.

"Well, that's a strange one," Andy admitted.

"We didn't have a clue how to rekindle that flame. So we did something a little different - we went into the studio with the legendary producer/artist Brian Eno.

"We didn't take any songs in with us at all and we didn't come out with any. We just jammed and allowed him to search through our playing and encourage certain aspects.

"We just wanted him to help us find that freshness, which we achieved."

Fran said: "It helped us look at our songs from a new angle. From that point we felt able to demo a number of songs to take to our regular producer, Nigel Godrich."

"We took almost complete songs into the studio," Andy explained.

"Nigel was astonished. There wasn't any song-writing to be done. It was a question of finding the right feel."

It is always an anxious time for a band. Record companies prefer successful bands to remain firmly within a recognisable formula, endless recycling the initial success perhaps?

While this offers them a guaranteed return on their investment, it usually results in the slow strangulation of the creative talent.

"Well, that suits record companies," agreed Andy.

"They don't mind if an artist slowly fades away. What they are terrified of is a sudden jolt!

"A sudden change of direction that may alienate a large fan base. That said, I think things have improved in the past few years. Myspace has certainly helped swing the creative side of things back to the artist.

"Recent successes such as Arctic Monkeys have meant that record companies just have to take notice.

"The talent comes from the kids, really. We are lucky in the sense that we simply are what we are. It's a genuinely organic process, for better or worse and there is no point in a record company attempting to meddle with that, because it just wouldn't work."

The songs on The Boy With No Name (the album has been named after Fran Healy's son, Clay, after Fran and wife Nora were unable to decide on the baby's name until some week's after his birth. This is not necessarily a good sign - alarm bells ring when rock stars drag off-springs into the aesthetic mix but we will let that one pass) are genuinely disparate, with unexpected moments arriving in the form of Selfish Jean, Battleships and the pre-album single, Closer.

"I'm particularly found of Selfish Jean, which is the song I am most looking forward to playing live," said Andy.

"It has a Motown and Stooges feel to it, nothing particularly new, but I sense it will become a live favourite."

Selfish Jean, which would have made a more evocative name for the album, can be viewed on a number of levels. The marriage of a Motown backing and Iggy Pop attack is strongly reminiscent of Mitch Ryder and the Detroit Wheels, a white rock artist out of Detroit who completely infiltrated the Northern Soul market.

When soul devotees eventually realised this, their fondness for Ryder lessened considerably. Fran said: "Yes, I am aware of that and I'd glad the song reflects that era.

"In fact, I think people today are less snobbish in that way. They are able to accept different kinds of music and the obvious fact that white people can sing soul. That's a change for the good."

The fact that Selfish Jean fits neatly in place on the new album and yet would have been awkwardly conspicuous had it been on the more formulaic - and multi-platinum - The Man Who is indicative of a band who have discovered a healthy sense of direction. At a recent pre-tour try-out' gig at Warrington's Parr Hall, four of the new songs received unexpectedly rapturous ovations, which surely steadied the collective nerves.

Andy added: "If we can remain reasonably successful while keeping our musical options open, well, that would be a major victory for us. It would keep Travis alive."