The Ruby Suns, Sea Lion

Though I can’t quite put my finger on it, there’s something about Sea Lion‘s packaging and artwork that perfectly fits the album’s sound. Kudos to artist Amee Kathryn for accomplishing (let alone even attempting) this feat in an age where the MP3 is sadly making album art irrelevant.

What is it, though, that makes the artwork adorning the Ruby Suns’ second full-length record so appropriate? Is it that the vivid colors used on the album’s case seem to mirror the colorful Pacific and African sounds that paint Sea Lion‘s forty-plus minutes? Maybe it’s that the collage of images adorning the outside of the album’s booklet remind me of the collage of sounds and Dictaphone tape recordings that string together Sea Lion‘s ten tracks. Or it could be that the psychedelic lettering used in the artwork reflects the band’s psych-pop leanings.

Really, it’s a combination of all of these things that make Sea Lion‘s artwork so fitting, just as it’s the combination of inspiration from psychedelic and pop acts past and present that make the New Zealand-based Ruby Suns such a fun and intriguing listen. The joyfulness and symphonic grandeur of the Polyphonic Spree, the sporadic energy of Animal Collective, the experimental attitude of Os Mutantes, the harmonies of the Beach Boys, and the world music dabbling of Paul Simon are all present in the Ruby Suns’ music on Sea Lion. Chief songwriter Ryan Mcphun infuses these influences with his own style, however, obscuring them from the listener and celebrating the result.

The festivities begin with “Blue Penguin,” a track whose distant reverberated vocals and easy sway sound like a sleepy morning that finds the suns rays slowly peeking over the horizon. The following track, “Oh, Mojave,” shakes the grogginess away with sunny Hawaiian melodies, cheerful handclaps, and dancing percussion. “Tane Mahuta,” the most distinctly New Zealand-sounding song (it’s sung in the Maori language) begins with clanking, tribal-sounding percussion that leads to flamenco guitar riffs and mariachi horns. “There Are Birds,” written and sung by Ruby Sun Amee Robinson, continues to show the band’s fascination with ’80s synth-pop, featuring the same drum machine sound and airy synthesizers as “Give Advice,” which appears both on 2007’s Lichen Ears EP and (oddly) in abridged form tacked onto the end of Sea Lion‘s finale “Morning Sun.”

“Adventure Tour” is pure solar energy, with bright 12-string guitar strums and thumping toms in the distance that sound like a timer ticking away the seconds until the song will explode, only rather than an explosion the listener is treated to the space launch of “Kenya Dig It.” “Kenya’s” otherworldly synth notes and climbing flangers make it feel as if the song is heading toward outer space, and eventually you’re looking back down at the Earth with the band as thunderous drums and sunny reverb-drenched vocal lines are traded between singers in one of the album’s most satisfying moments.

The Ruby Suns’ music borrows greatly from like-minded contemporaries and predecessors, of course — all songwriters have influences, and these influences will always show up in the music. The line between being derivative and innovative is a thin one, and what keeps bands on the right side is what Ryan Mcphun has done with Sea Lion: drawing selectively and conservatively from a broad spectrum. In doing so, The Ruby Suns are developing a sound that in another album or so will be distinctly their own. For now, the band has a great sophomore album under its belt that shines as brightly as the sun.