Phil Holtby, the man behind the mysterious DoT, invites us to demystify. DoT thinks differently about folk music. It is a lonely forest through all seasons that we are invited to traverse, soundscaped by Holtby’s stoic melodics and hermit croak. The album grows progressively more wintry and destitute as it tromps on up the self-same coniferous hills Demystify Your Shape sculpts for us. At last we arrive at the capstone “Hellmouth,” a song about swallowing, the shape devoured. There is much to be confused about in this complicated low fidelity glimpse into DoT’s creative phantasms. One starts the album yet again, trying to discern the mystical shapes Holtby implores us to demystify. It is a fractal pattern of inquiry, a shape with an encloseable space, yes, but with an infinite parameter.