The Ruby Suns’ Sub Pop debut, Sea Lion, unfolds pretty much how one would imagine a soundtrack for a Californian dude taken up living in the exotic land of Kiwis (New Zealand) would. Ryan McPhun is the protagonist here, an eccentric Southern Californian who befriends and fronts a group of New Zealand musicians. Sea Lion, the band’s second album, is the end result of McPhun’s intercontinental union, and, befittingly enough, sounds like a mélange of the Beach Boys’ harmonic psychedelia and a Polynesian luau. Listening to the sweeping, saccharine-drenched melodies on “Remember” leaves no doubt that McPhun is not shy about wearing his Brian Wilson roots on his sleeve. His use of layered, multi-tracked vocals on the bending “This Adventure Tour” seconds that notion.
Sea Lion is very much a global affair, though. “Tane Mahuta” is sung in New Zealand’s native tongue, Maori, and is driven by a conga and vibraphone timbre that resonates like a Harry Belafonte movie viewed in full Technicolor marvel. It will leave listeners with an uncontrollable urge to jump on an exotic Carnival Cruise, or perhaps, for those less adventurous, sip on a rum concoction served in a coconut in their backyard. Likewise for “Oh, Mojave,” whose twinkling ukulele strums will conjure up visions of tanned hula dancers gyrating their cute little grass skirts away. This globally folkie groove will remind some of indie troubadour M.Ward’s latest, while others might point out that there are latitudes of similarities with prepster-upstarts, Vampire Weekend. Basically, the common denominators in all are their affinities for world music and a willingness to explore. Although, those that listen to Sunday morning public radio would mention that all these aforementioned bands yield world music watered-down for the indie kids. That sentiment would not be far-fetched on Sea Lion.
It is the indie kids that will lend a kind ear to this album, after all. And they will be rewarded tenfold. On the swirling “There are Birds,” McPhun steps aside from his vocals duties and allows Amee Robinson to take a shot. Robinson turns out to have an eerily satisfying delivery reminiscent of Kim Deal, sounding so aloof that it lures you in. The steady downkick and glockenspiel flourishes surrounding Robinson’s chilled out vocals come across as a blending of Jesus and Mary Chain and Animal Collective. And, although “Morning Sun” and its repetitive verse of “I wake up, I get the morning sun,” will set listeners into a deep, meditative trance like a pendulum swinging to-and-fro, the polished, Britpop / New Order-sounding harmony and the Madchester beat that arises four minutes in will beguile briefly, but gratify convincingly.
The spending bells and lilting woodwinds on “Kenya Dig It” remind listeners that Sea Lion is really about fairytales. We are entering Ryan McPhun’s realm here, a spiraling Polynesian, British, African, and Californian-sounding hodgepodge of “Blue Penguins” and Mwangi encounters (“It’s Mwangi in Front of Me”). It’s a complex and whimsical world McPhun’s spun, one that will have listeners daydreaming at times, reflecting on others, but mostly just wanting to sip on their favorite fruity potion with their feet up. |