The thrilling debut album from this intense New York City trio makes their city feel alive once again
Hood : Home Is Where It Hurts
The defining brilliance of 'Home Is Where It Hurts' is that Hood haven't actually invented anything
There are nods across the Atlantic to Chicago post-rock boffins Tortoise and even flashes of Dirty Three's mournful violin screeches on 'The World Touches Too Hard', but this remains an unmistakably English record with echoes of Robert Wyatt and Eno's 'Another Green World'. But disappear for a moment through the gaps in the music and you notice that Hood's defining influences are the hum of streetlights over suburban pavements and the faint whir of late night taxis to suburbia.
Perhaps the defining brilliance of 'Home Is Where It Hurts' is that Hood haven't actually invented anything - they've just sat at home and accurately recreated the world that they have been cowering behind their front doors avoiding for the last few years.
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