Album of the Week: Hilary Woods – Night CRIÚ

Night CRIÚ is the fifth solo album from Hilary Woods, the Irish musician perhaps best known to most as the former bassist of one of Ireland’s most successful indie bands of the late ’90s and early 2000s, JJ72. Having once tasted fame as part of a charting indie-rock act in both Ireland and the UK, it is perhaps something of a shock to discover that Woods’ solo work bears almost no resemblance to the music of her former group.

Her solo discography, which includes Colt (2018), Birthmarks (2020), and Acts of Light (2023), all released via American independent label Sacred Bones Records, showcases a distinctive artistic transformation. Woods’ focus on atmosphere, ambience, and the murkier sides of human experience matches seamlessly with the Sacred Bones aesthetic, a label long associated with the eerie, the ethereal, and the emotionally unguarded.

With Night CRIÚ, her fourth release for the label, Woods paves a darkened path that returns toward something resembling traditional songwriting, following the largely instrumental and experimental soundscapes of Acts of Light. The result, which sees her emerging from the shadows and reawakening as a dream-folk singer, is nothing short of revelatory. The decision to enlist Dean Hurley (celebrated for his work with the late filmmaker David Lynch) as mixer and additional producer is inspired. Hurley’s textural sensibilities complement Woods’ otherworldly inclinations perfectly, and while Hurley may not have worked directly with her, it’s hard not to think of the haunting dream-pop of Julee Cruise’s songs in Twin Peaks.

Throughout Night CRIÚ, Woods conjures melodies as if from dreams, fragments of half-sleep and nocturnal reverie, songs to something, songs to no one, songs to nothing the waking mind can easily imagine. There’s a distinctly noirish, midnight quality to both her writing and performance, evoking strange, liminal moments when the body is tired but the mind remains wired.

Lead single Endgames unfurls from a funereal haze of drones and bass, with Woods’ choral-like, crystalline voice rising from the darkness like vapour. It’s evocative of Liz Harris (Grouper) at her most supernatural. Elsewhere, tracks such as Taper embrace a stripped-back palette, acoustic instrumentation paired with closely sung, layered, reverbed vocals that recall Broadcast’s folk-infused experiments at their most intimate.

Woods has also cited Czech cinema as an influence on the album, and given that parts of Night CRIÚ were recorded in Latvia, it’s no surprise that songs like the ritualistic opener Voce or the noir-folk of Brightly possess an occult, esoteric aura, evocative of the sort of mysticism often found in Eastern European folk traditions. Elsewhere, Faults makes use of funereal brass to stunning effect, and closing track Shelter swells with droning strings, together conjuring echoes of the stark, proto-gothic folk of Nico’s The Marble Index and Desertshore.

As with several standout releases of 2025, the glowing embers of two of the ’90s most distinctive genres, shoegaze-dream-pop and slowcore, flicker subtly throughout Night CRIÚ, lending it a gauzy, dreamlike foundation. The result is an album that feels both ancient and modern, a work of haunted beauty that exists entirely out of time, testament to the mesmeric allure of Woods’ chimerical, illusory songs.

Hilary Woods – Night CRIÚ is out now on vinyl & CD.