Mood is not decoration. It is not the aesthetic layer applied on top of the real content. In music — in the kind of music that actually does something to you — mood is the content.
This is a distinction worth making carefully. A lot of music uses mood as a signal: this is sad, this is triumphant, this is aggressive. The mood tells you how to feel about the music. It is instructional. It is, in a sense, redundant — the feeling is named before you have a chance to have it.
The other kind of music creates a mood that doesn't have a name. It puts you somewhere specific without telling you where you are. You recognize the feeling without being able to describe it. That recognition is the experience. The mood is not pointing at something else; it is the thing itself.
Sndigø works in this second register. The productions on Sleepless Nights are not trying to communicate a named emotion. They are trying to create a specific atmospheric condition — the particular quality of being awake when you shouldn't be, of thinking thoughts that only arrive in that hour, of existing in a space between exhaustion and clarity.
That condition is the medium. The music is what it feels like to be inside it.
Mood as medium means the work doesn't explain itself. It doesn't need to. If you've been in that place, you'll recognize it immediately. If you haven't, the music might take you there for the first time.
Either way, that's the point.