Dagonite

Dagonite begins by dunking the listener in a mud bath of molten, hairy guitars. The cover image is apt; this record is about guitars, guitars, and more guitars. Occasionally, vocals sail overhead in windswept, whispered growls. Otherwise, Dagonite is a six-string workout: black metal guitars at doom metal speeds. Cross Godflesh with Burzum and Voivod, and voilà, Brown Jenkins. Named for an H.P. Lovecraft character, this one-man outfit's original concept was music about Lovecraft. The project quickly and wisely discarded this concept as too limiting. By focusing primarily on sound, Dagonite bursts with possibilities, some of which its successor, Angel Eyes, realized (e.g., more varied, dynamic songwriting). Brown Jenkins' forte is suspending chords in fuzzed-out cocoons, then raking eerie jangles over the top. At no time do riffs telegraph how to react to them. The mood is dark, but it doesn't say so; it simply envelops listeners, who then have to find their own way. Such absence of markers can be nerve-wracking, and the excessively hot mastering doesn't help. But though it's mostly devoid of vocals, Brown Jenkins has a startlingly unique voice. Few artists, established or not, are immediately distinguishable within a few notes; on only its debut, Brown Jenkins has earned that distinction.