Formed in 1990 by brothers Chris and Richard Adams and a rotating list of collaborators, the Leeds-based Hood started out as a lo-fi indie-rock outfit inspired by Pavement and Sonic Youth. By the time they released 1998’s Rustic Houses, Forlorn Valleys, however, they’d adopted a more pastoral sound that, while still plenty lo-fi and DIY, revealed the influence of Bark Psychosis and Talk Talk’s meandering and meditative soundscapes.

A year later, they released The Cycle of Days and Seasons, arguably their finest work. Dialing back a bit from the longer songs that typified Rustic Houses, Forlorn Valleys, the new album found a comfortable mid-point between autumnal compositions and lo-fi collage-work.

To listen to The Cycle of Days and Seasons is to listen to the sounds of the seasons passing, or more specifically, summer fading into autumn, and autumn landing in winter’s chilly grasp. It captures the doldrums of small town life through snatches of barely-heard conversations and echoing church bells, while its jolting beats and cut-up vocals suggest urban and industrial decay. It is, to put it simply, a dreary album, all grey skies, rain-slicked streets, bare trees, and faded grass.

But Hood inhabits that mood so fully that they find beauty in the bleakness via sparse string arrangements, piano strains, dub rhythms, intricate guitar patterns, mournful drones, and haunting field recordings. Songs like “Western Housing Concerns,” “September Brings the Autumn Dawn,” and “Houses Tilting Towards the Sea” are gorgeous precisely because of their subdued and restrained nature.

On a personal note, I have a dream of someday making it to the UK, and spending a day wandering about some rustic heath or footpath with The Cycle of Days and Seasons on repeat, and just losing myself in the space.