“Music belongs to those who make it,” quips vocalist Mark Hamilton of Woodpigeon, and he makes it with eerie reveries and suddenly we all feel like it belongs to us. His dusty vocals and grassy hills of tenuous sound laid out sleepily in the background trot lackadaisically through folked-up brain space and conjure a wistful pensiveness that’s as tangible as the pillowy dreams Woodpigeon sends listeners to. The Calgary eight-piece band weaves in flute, accordion, piano, violin and has gotten thrown into backwoods beauty comparisons to scary-fairy Sufjan Stevens and broken poetic masters Simon and Garfunkel.

Maybe the eloquently-worded bio on the Balconies myspace page does them justice. Apparently we can look forward to “…Jacquie, with her batting eyelashes and wide eyes smirking and Jaeger soaked in his own sweat from playing so hard, and brother Stephen unassumingly spewing out tales of messy late nights and relationship faux-pas.” Having just played a show at the Phoenix in Toronto, the Balconies are rolling into town to open for Cold War Kids…