Stand With the Stillness of Day

is the debut of Montreal's memorably-named . Don't be bamboozled by its seven-song track listing, as is no EP. It could never be -- there's too much emotional weight here. Songs linger and stretch into the five-, six-, and seven-minute mark as wails over brooding cello (courtesy of 's ), stark guitar, stabs of piano, and subtly effective percussion. Unlike the searching yet opaque confessionals of , is startlingly forward, like an angry widow berating God's decision-making process. "Smashed your head/And you killed yourself," she utters over 's velvety dirge. "We all went to bed with the scene in our heads." The song gradually deconstructs itself, the percussion and guitars ambling through an improvisational section before roaring back in the throes of thick-handed pounding and scraggly, frayed solos. This territory of the soul has been traversed before, inside or the smoky tendrils of 's work. But acknowledges this and then dismisses it, relying on her powerfully brazen vocals to cordon off her own couch in the psychosis absinthe bar. She cracks the whip and her band follows. It rises and falls with her on ; it senses her comparatively lighter mood for and lets a lone guitar trace the skeleton of a . Of course, this is just a feint. "I had a dream of you," whispers, and suddenly the shadows have come to life as six-string torturers, peeling off scrawls of feedback and equally evocative acoustic stutters. ends with tear stains and "dried up hearts," a mournful nylon-string guitar 's only accompaniment; her only friend. might be the best moment on the album, since it's a masterful blend of slow-burn balladry, dramatic ache, and faintly European defeatism, the last of which most of 's work suggests. Is she a heroine fated to die, or a coolly confident femme fatale with a knife inside her cloak? ~ Johnny Loftus