“...And La Loba sings more and the wolf creature begins to breathe.
And still La Loba sings so deeply that the floor of the desert shakes, and as she sings, the wolf opens its eyes, leaps up, and runs away down the canyon.
Somewhere in its running, whether by the speed of its running, or by splashing its way into a river, or by way of a ray of sunlight or moonlight hitting it right in the side, the wolf is suddenly transformed into a laughing woman who runs free toward the horizon.”
This is a passage from Women Who Run With the Wolves: Myths and Stories of the Wild Woman Archetype by Clarissa Pinkola Estés, Ph.D. La Loba is a fat, hairy woman who dwells somewhere in the sands of the midwest, spending her days collecting the bones of wolves, the relics of the past. When the skeleton is complete, she brings the wolf back to life with her song, resurrecting the feral female who has lain dormant in the ground.
Estés’ book is a collection of folktales following this female spirit, each harvested from a myriad of cultures. This spirit is as old as the earth and as wild as the wolf. She hunts, she howls. She is intuitive, powerful, vicious and passionate. She can be hard to find in our midst nowadays; she is as endangered as the wolf.
Chloe Lum howls. She groans and growls and roars. She is the singer of AIDS Wolf, a Montreal noise band who held a handful of curious people in their lupine rapture last month at the Heirloom Arts Theatre.
Lum squawked a few times to check the vocals as she stalked in circles on the floor; then the band promptly exploded. Guitars screamed, drums thrashed and Lum lamented, pulling her shirt over her mouth, depositing the microphone in her jaws and binding herself with the cord. She writhed, she fell, and she crept around on tiptoes in her pink and black striped socks. With her grandmother sweater and a neatly shaven headband-like strip cutting through her long hair, Lum is far from the traditional definition of “ladylike”, yet her expression, her manic crazed demoniacal cries and movements, were indisputably and powerfully female. Had Estés been in attendance, she would have nodded, thinking of La Loba serenading the wolf bones.
AIDS Wolf formed in 2003, taking their name from blood red graffiti on the side of a house in Columbus, Ohio. The band ranks at the top of their genre with short, super-concentrated and precise songs. The Lovvers LP, their debut album, is 25 minutes long, with only the last track reaching over three minutes--”Some Sexual Drawings”, with a long haul of almost 12 minutes.
Shying away from the word “music”, AIDS Wolf focuses more on creating an experience, hence one could likely shun the band on listening to the CD and grovel at their feet upon seeing them perform live. It is near miraculous to see drummer Yannick Desranleau’s kit survive the set. Lum’s shrieks are incomprehensible, yet understandable. The dual guitars of André Guérette and Myles Broscoe tear at the eardrums. Without a word to the audience, they turn off their amps and start packing up promptly after playing their last song. Their performance speaks for itself.
AIDS Wolf are a disciplined bunch; they take their work seriously, they don’t get wasted after shows, they keep themselves healthy, they have a doctrine. The Nine Principles of AIDS Wolf are posted on their label’s web site, SKiN GRAFT records. Numbers one and five:
“1: Maintain a Daily Ritual. Music is like breathing, eating, walking, sleeping, drinking, pissing, and, with any luck, fucking. One must have something to play, create, and examine everyday; there are simply no vacations. Music must be a physical need and a mental compulsion in each moment of existence.

5. Seek Strength Through Strength. Gear’s gotta be carried, sleep must be forsaken, and long tours have to be survived, knowing all the while that ideas flow best when one has the stamina to let them out. Through proper consumption of wholesome fresh foods, daily strength training and sports, and copious amounts of fresh air, one can foster personal fortitude and allow room for creativity to flower.”
AIDS Wolf’s sound is born from inside the body; it could be the emissions of a brain in the midst of a nervous breakdown or the churning pound of blood in a rampaging killer’s ears. They are doing something very different and something very remarkable. They are channeling something carnal and raw and animalistic. They are polished, bringing the shine of prestige to a genre often held in contempt. If ever you have a chance to run with the Wolves, take it.

For more information, visit Aidswolf.net and Heirloomarts.org. For Estés’ blog, visit Ncrcafe.org/blog/6987.