“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.