Papa Manzano - "Ritualism"
(Bad Cake Records)
Life is out of balance. There is no rhythm. Everything is car horns, crying babies, and barking dogs. Chaos is everywhere. The news is a divine comedy. You wish there was a magical tape you could listen to that would just reset your mind and let you figure things out. NOT a meditation tape. No. Something real, something gritty and undeniable.
Papa Manzano, the musical voodoo priest, steps from the shadows and beckons with his hand for you to follow. He leads you down to the docks. It's the dead of night. He wordlessly leads you into a dilapidated shop covered in foreclosure signs. He points to a gilded box that sits upon an old wooden counter-top. Its ornate designs make it seem out of place with the dingy surroundings. It seems timeless. Without moving a muscle, Papa Manzano commands you to open the box. Inside is a tape of his ritual.
You don't need a player. Just holding the tape in your hand begins the ritual. You hear strange walls of noise playing inside your mind, pushing out the car horns. You can hear babies stop crying and begin to chanting in otherworldy voices. The barking dogs become doves with golden wings who fly up into the sunlight. Suddenly, you are surrounded by a strange forest.
Papa Manzano begins to speak his magic. You hold out your hand, as if to halt what is happening, but the ritual is already changing you, and you raise your other hand as well and soak in the mystical energies of the earth. Why were you worried so much about the things around you? Why do you concern yourself with things that do not really matter at all? Papa Manzano is furiously beating a drum and humming a mantra in his old, wrinkled throat. You have no idea what you are hearing, but it is an intense, fierce thunderstorm of powerful magic that washes over you like a warm wave of ocean water on a hot day.
Love is what matters. Caring for your fellow man. Go out into the world and be a force of peace. Change the world with love. That is the ritual. Papa Manzano smiles, because he knows you understand at last. He transforms into another golden winged dove and springs into the air, and is gone.
You awaken in an abandoned shop, in the desolate reaches. All that remains of your spiritual journey is the tape. Ritualism.