Obscure (but should not have been) album of the week...

HOOD - Cold House (2001)

Apologies, keen readers, for the absence of last week's blog. As Lennon once sang, life is what happens when you're making other plans. Seeing winter is now upon us (at least in the southern hemisphere), I am focusing on one of the most wintry albums released post-millennium. If you want a reference point for how icy this album sounds, imagine the members of Sigur Ros getting cryogenically frozen and left in vats 12 feet under tundra. A veritable cold house, indeed.

Hood are an enigmatic, yet prolific, British outfit that have a considerable back catalogue (and one that's not easy to track down) that dates back to their first single "Sirens" in 1992. Plenty of gushing critical praise, articles and fan sites have been devoted to them. So why aren't they up there with the Radioheads or Bjorks of the music world? Perhaps it's because they lack a defined personality within the group. Perhaps they lack the lofty ambitions of their globe-conquering peers. Perhaps, more to the point, there is not a chorus in sight. In Hood's case, however, this works to their advantage. This is an austere piece of work, so don't go looking for cheerful melodies or lyrics. The irony of Cold House containing a song titled 'This is What We Do To Sell Out(s)', which happens to be the most experimental track on the album, would not be lost on the casual listener.

A beguiling mix of glitch beats, arctic synths, haunting vocals and hypnotic drums, Cold House is Hood's fifth album and most adventurous work. Superficially, the key ingredient that sets it aside from the rest of their output is the remarkable synthesis of hip hop elements into their sound, incorporating exceptional contributions from San Francisco-based hip hop artists Doseone and Why? In the wrong hands, such a combination could spell disaster but here, Hood have achieved just the right balance; using it sparingly. Two tracks that feature these artists, 'Branches Bare' and the chilling opener, 'The Removed All Trace of Anything That Happened Here' are a testament to this (the garbled rapping almost indecipherable in the latter, which only adds to the song's power).

Hood vocalist Chris Adamson's may not have an especially distinctive or dramatic voice, but the detached feel of his singing suits the feel of the songs. The interplay between the musicians is subtle and shifting, recalling Talk Talk at their most unconstrained. Hood also have a masterful drummer in Stephen Royle, who I sometimes wish would feature more in the mix. But that's just a quibble. If you ever need confirmation that isolation from the cogs of the music industry is good for the creative blood, the proof is in the Hood in this frost-bitten minor masterpiece.

-AMCS