Brooklyn sextet Sea Ray write the kind of songs that threaten to save your life, while at the same time prompting your heartstrings to concede defeat. Superficially, they throw out cathartic, arms-open-wide indie rock in a vaguely shoegazey, Broken Social Scene/My Bloody Valentine style. However, in lacing their fleet of shimmering, aqueous guitar lines with an instinctive knack for bare-bones orchestration and some of the headiest pop melodies in recent memory, the band have etched something truly hypnotic.
Stars At Noon is a rollercoaster ride of the emotional spectrum, but by no means subservient to handy "emo" stickering. In the way that Death Cab For Cutie's We Have The Facts And We're Voting Yes, or Dismemberment Plan's Emergency & I were riotous, emotionally-charged affairs imbued with no small measure of punk-schooled sophistication, Stars At Noon stretches itself a wonderfully broad emotional canvas. Veering from the joyous to the broody with intuitive ease (via all points in between), it's the richest tapestry of epic indie-rock sedation I've heard in quite some time -- which, given my whey-faced demeanor, friendless grace and penchant for spunk-splattered corduroy, is a most awesome feat.
Proceedings are inaugurated by the terrific "Sister Gone", whose yearning, expansive sophisto-pop elegance is brought to life by shimmering guitars, liquid-flowing bass and the subdued, ever-expressive presence of cello. So expansive is the song's chorus, and so impassioned its delivery, that it's tempting to recall the transcendent, mantra-like zeal of "us against the world"-era U2, free of the pomp and politics. Indeed, when "Revelry"'s delay-treated guitar kicks into play, it grows increasingly easy to believe that the aching beauty of this wonderful music could earn them a fleet of sobbing, slavering fans by the domeful. Once the song veers into its tearful orchestral breakdown, undercut by an almost-funky stop-start jig of bass and drums, it's as stirring and startling an indie-rock moment as you're likely to hear for quite some time.
"Stray Dog's Got It Made" ups its amps to 11 and its pathos to 99, its beautifully cluttered, overflowing conclusion recalling the panorama-pop work of Flaming Lips or Mercury Rev at their most orchestral, or a warm-throated Modest Mouse at the peak of their reflective, insightful powers. Certainly, as with almost all bands these days, Sea Ray recall more than a few of their contemporaries, but the ethereal ambience of their songwriting places them in a league of their own. On "Nicholas Ray" or "Hall Of Fame", for example, the sextet infuse wondrous songcraft with the kind of aeriform atmosphere favored by artists for whom sound is worthier than song.
Stars At Noon is an extraordinarily cinematic, ingeniously arranged album of wrought emotion, teary-eyed moments, orchestral maelstroms, long goodbyes, heart-slaying songcraft, rippling guitars and long-forgotten memories, curiously compressed into a nine-strong bout of song-centric wonderment that you won't ever want to end.
