I was walking down Grace St. in Richmond on my way to the First Fridays art walk last week when I heard the Love Language’s lush music wafting from Strange Matter’s dank, musky door like the first hints of a change of season. I was struck by how full it sounded, and I checked the poster outside so I could take down their name. I’m glad I did. The Raleigh band’s latest record, Ruby Red, is a true indie gem. On the surface, they’re a composite of tried-and-true genre tropes, with ecstatic vocals a la Win Butler or the younger, more excitable National, and a cinematic sense of production, scope, and purpose. But every time you think they’ll turn left, though, they turn right. This sense of comfort and unpredictability at once is confusing as it is wonderful.North Carolina’s been calling my name recently. It feels older and brighter, even though there’s absolutely nothing empirical about my assumptions. Still, the Love Language’s style gives the impression of age - retro without actually being retro. It’s oak forest music, and it succeeded in brightening up my day substantially. I love a band that likes to be pretty but isn’t afraid to make noise, and they aren’t, occasionally breaking out the fuzz pedals with a great degree of success. The album flew by and then I had to start it again. Don’t overlook these guys.