CLICHÉS are those annoying little truths that cover certain bases when nothing else quite does the trick.

Things like: It does exactly what it says on the tin.

If this review were to feature on a postage stamp, that's what I'd turn to.

Because ever since Travis found their blueprint with the melancholic, wintry The Man Who, they've pretty much plodded the same path.

Each subsequent release bore all the hallmarks of that album - acoustic, melodic and a little bit quirky (only ever such a little bit, mind) thanks to Nigel Godrich's production techniques.

And so we come to The Boy With No Name. The writing on the front is the Travis' font (the one where the A and the V lie on each other), first used on The Man Who - and we quickly realise that it's going to do exactly what you expect a Travis album to do.

Fran Healy's lovely vocals are as gentle and pining as ever (forget the era of throat shredding yelps of U16s Girls or All I Wanna Do Is Rock from their debut... that Fran is well and truly gone) and the music is the same old fare.

Which will mean one of two things: you will either love this album as you have all the other The Man Who's, or you will turn off and swear blind never to trouble yourself with another Travis release ever again.

Personally, I think there are a handful of hits to be had here, not least the dramatic Eyes Wide Open and poppy Battleships. But then, I still like The Man Who.

And I'd hazard a guess that the hundreds of thousands of people who sang along to Why Does It Always Rain On Me when they headlined Glastonbury do too.

So here's another cliché: If it ain't broke, don't fix it.