Boston-based indie rock band Aloud’s latest studio release, Exile, builds on their oft-raucous rock sound and guitar heroics friendly catalogue to create a spare, intimate, and textured collection of songs. This tender, reflective propensity is suggested in spots on their previous two discs, though here a studied, measured grace is fully explored on tracks that hinge on exposed vocals and carefully crafted lyrics.

The album’s artwork is similarly artisan-worthy, done in the form of a turn of the 20th century-era postcard, typewritten letter, and accompanying envelope that include photographs and oval picture portraits of women, a coastal scene and a dog. Throughout the art, there are handwritten lines recalling the CD’s lyrics as well as x’d-, typewritten-out captions (like they’d been censored, perhaps) below the photos. Aloud’s two core members — Jen de la Osa and Henry Beguiristain — have family who fled Cuba (as they talked about in a recent Boston Globe article), so the notion of exile is not foreign to the duo. This element of harrowing emigration is present throughout the album, making its way into songs about journeys, both physical and spiritual, and the trials along their way, along with the hope necessary to sustain them, even though its sometimes difficult to come by.

Songs worth checking out include the opener, “Burning Bright,” on which Beguiristain lithely sings the title lyric/chorus and the hopeful wish of a line, “May the sparks illuminate in you/ what you claim has died.” De la Osa’s vocal chops are on display a few tunes later, singing the phrase “Exile in the Night” several time on melodies that differ in slight degrees from each other. “Counterfeit Star,” the one fairly upbeat song on a mostly mid-tempo and quiet record, features some honky-tonk piano and a narrative of at-first-unnoticed betrayal. The next selection, “A Light that Shines,” sees de la Osa demonstrating her acuity with material and tone that’s relatively soft and delicate, all while retaining her rock ‘n’ roll sensibility.

“A Line of Lights,” a kind of spoken-word piece, features a haunting piano intro and shiver-inducing violin-playing. The last (and particularly strong) track, “To Die at Sea,” is lyrical and affecting with violins bowed behind wistful lines like “Paradiso lays wait” and “Dive with me to the bottom of the sea.” All in all, the plunge into slightly new depths is a mostly successful one and proves that this northeastern duo deserved to be followed.