Volahn is a hard band to quantify into words and it’s even more difficult to articulate just how special of an album
Aq’ Ab’ Al’ is in the realm of black metal. Volahn is one of the most prominent bands of the elusive Crepúsculo Negro (Black Twilight Circle) label. BTC channels the spirit and essence of a myriad of indigenous Mexican, South American, and other Spanish cultures within their catalog.
Aq’ Ab’ Al’s’ area of specificity in theme and lyrics is particular to ancient Mayan and Aztec culture. Volahn is helmed by the one-man-savant and founder of said label, Eduardo Ramirez. This album is arguably the most prolific and realized
singular release from the label. No amount of superficial descriptors can justifiably paint the canvas that is Eduardo’s most personal outlet, Volahn.
Listening to
Aq’ Ab’ Al feels like being placed on a sacrificial altar on top of a sunlit Aztec structure in the middle of a tropical jungle. The music quality is abrasive and has the usual lo-fi aesthetic that’s inherent to raw black metal. Though, surprisingly, there are a healthy amount of radiant and melodic guitar-lead breaks that soar and take the listener on a journey to ancient Mesoamérica. Volahn’s most defining and distinct aspect by far, is the guitar work. Volahn is able to incorporate a slightly psychedelic-tinge into the guitar-leads, all whilst sporting a love-or-hate-it guitar tone (
I love it) and utilizing the whammy bar to the fullest. The guitars achieve a feeling of triumph, anguish, and vengeance all at once. At times the leads sound kind of like classic folk-rock songs from the late 60’s and early 70’s with an old school flair— but not quite like hearkening back to the retro first-wave black metal style from the late 80’s. It’s like an idiosyncratic cross between western inspired rock and spiritual-folk all filtered through black metal riffing with punk-rock undertones. While I think it’s equally fair and unfair to compare this to first wave black metal at all, it just goes to show how there are simultaneously subtle sources of influence and unique identity forged from their sound that makes them a challenge to properly pin down.
Bear with me here, but the overlap with a band like Peste Noire isn’t too far removed from this on an auditory level if you really think about it. The guitars occupy a similar melancholic, almost hopeful tortured tone, with the vocals and guitars way up front in the mix. Thin correlation aside, the eclecticism and riff-centric beauty found in the guitars is their most common ground. I digress. In addition, the bass is unusually present in the mix, which is always a delightful surprise in a genre where audio mixing and fidelity are intentionally mismanaged and/or largely unpolished. The heavily reverb-drenched vocals sound like an icy echo cursing you from an unearthed tomb hidden deep within the jungle, complimenting the hypnotic and primitive nature of the album well. The percussion is also really tastefully done, keeping the momentum consistently urgent and knowing when to take a breather and pull it back at times.
To further flesh out the unique character of the album there are flutes, synths, and acoustic guitars that pop their head in every once in a while. The former two rarely take center stage, they’re incorporated quite organically into the rest of the compositions. The song ‘Quetzalcoatl’ is a personal highlight, the sorrowful chorus exemplifies the dichotomy of the tones the guitars radiate. This section in particular sounds so full of contemplative agony, yet it still retains its bite, sounding beaten but not yet
defeated. The fact that this was all composed and performed by a single person is seriously impressive, as the album sounds like it was cultivated through the kind of dynamic that comes from a full band playing off of each other. In a way, there aren’t many comparisons in this specific style or niché of black metal that you can make, besides to other bands in the label itself. In my opinion, some more modern day acts that followed in Eduardo’s footsteps directly or indirectly are: Caio Lemos of Kaatayra and Vauruva and Damián Ojeda of Sadness and Trhä. Obviously the former artist more than the latter, as Volahn’s music is intrinsically tied to nature and Spanish culture.
Aq’ Ab’ Al’ remains endearing and engrossing through its entire, nearly hour-long duration. Eduardo’s passionate intentions in theme and execution create something greater than the sum of it’s parts. BTC, a little less than a decade ago, began to slowly scrub their online presence away. In the recent year or so, they have been making a slow comeback with the reactivation of social media accounts and a new release from one of their most distinguished acts, Arizmenda, late last year. Will the enigmatic Volahn soon make a return as well?
