Woove staff writer Stephen Diesel reviews Land of Talk's latest release, and yes, the review is just as badass as Stephen's last name.

Known for their eclectic mix of grit and gleam, Land of Talk continues to broaden their sound on their sophomore record, Cloak and Cipher (2010).  These Canadian indie rockers open their album with a song of the same title that starts with acoustic guitar and Elizabeth Powell’s sharp vocals. Typically, this would lead into the rugged, distorted sound that fans of Land of Talk have grown to love, but an unexpected transformation takes place when the Montreal trio breaks to the chorus. Land of Talk takes the time to step away from their firmly planted roots in rock to issue a dreamier, pop-infused sound showcased on a number of tracks in response to debut album, Some Are Lakes (2008).

With their new style, Land of Talk demonstrates their versatility as talented musicians where so many emergent indie artists fail to stack up.  All the while, Powell’s voice flourishes in each setting, captivating listeners whether pulling on their heartstrings or rocking their faces off. “Hamburg, Noon” and “Blangee Blee” support the album’s softer side with catchy hooks and sweet melodies, dabbling in synth-y percussion, and producing memorable choruses. However, no track is a more powerful example of this earnest new sound than “Quarry Hymns.” Part Stevie Nicks reincarnate gone rogue, part former Broken Social Scene-ster, Elizabeth Powell’s captivating voice and soft guitar completely own this standout track.  Do not miss “Quarry Hymns,” backed by Arcade Fire’s Jeremy Gara on the set with one of the saddest choruses I have heard in a while.

Although the new dimension to Land of Talk’s musical production is a major highlight in the release, the band still has some fight in them.  Tracks like first single, “Swift Coin,” give teeth to the record with a steady rhythm of distorted guitar, a pretty raunchy solo, and the subsequent driving feel that Land of Talk successfully repeats time and time again.  “Color Me Badd” and “The Hate I Won’t Commit” speak for themselves on title alone.  Both tracks pack a punch, ranging from symphonic swells to exultant vocals and pure cacophony with a guest appearance of Patrick Watson smashing some keys.

“Better and Closer,” broken into two parts, wraps up the album. The trio starts slowly, oozing an all too familiar sense of longing that burns slowly in the back of your mind.  Mid-track, the break comes to life with a fuzzy reverb-soaked lullaby: presumably only Powell, her guitar, and some extra layers of her own vocals to fade out the album.  Cloak and Cipher closes with a feeling of completeness.

Land of Talk’s sound has obviously grown, but the true revolutions come from Powell.  Much of the album’s suitably mysterious lyrics were crafted during her recovery from surgery of a hemorrhaging polyp in her vocal chord, leaving her unable to speak. After this surgery, she isolated herself and sought refuge in music and literature. The only remaining original member of Land of Talk, Powell has had to come to grips with the her backing band’s shifting membership, and even though further changes don’t seem out of the question, she continues to push her group forward.

These life changes have finally led her to take the sole identity of Land of Talk, and no greater evidence for this exists than Cloak and Cipher’s production.  Despite the various guest appearances and changing line-up from track to track, her voice remains a true and powerful force to be reckoned with.  There are few dry spots found in “Goaltime Exposure” and “Playita,” along with a few choruses revisited too often, but Cloak and Cipher is a step forward for Land of Talk as they continue to cement their reputation amongst all the talented indie rock that comes from Canada.

4/5 Wooves