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www.churchonthursday.com
Gina Malfatti
Into the Zodiac
Self-released
1999
Back in 1989, when I was still attending Yreka High
School, I was employed at a health food
store named Nature's Kitchen. Being the only business in the town of Yreka
not predisposed to all-natural foods and vegetarian cuisine, Nature's Kitchen
also carried a variety of wares for the accompanying "New Age" lifestyle
which had begun to center itself around the town of Mt. Shasta. On display
for these morons to purchase were books on a variety of weird topics, from
Atlantis to how to distinguish between hostile and benevolent extra-terrestrials,
trippy jewelry and herbal remedies, teas and tinctures. Rajiv, my boss, would
often suggest homeopathic methods to his friends and customers who frequented
to the store for treating everying from depression to headaches to sleep deprivation.
Back in 1989 the FDA hadn't quite gotten around to effectively regulating the influx of Chinese herbs on the market (which were just beginning to become very in-demand). Nature's Kitchen must have had a thousand different little brown bottles filled with tinctures made from Chinese herbs. Each one had an enclosed eyedropper and directions in English and Chinese printed on the side, advising how much of the tincture to consume per hour or day or whatever. Sometimes to kill time, I'd read the little brown bottles and sample their disturbing tastes.
Once I had been employed there long enough to earn Rajiv's trust, he allowed me to close the store by myself. Since I lacked all supervision, I became lackadaisical about perfoming my closing duties punctually (there was little else to do for entertainment in Yreka). Nature's Kitchen had a stereo with, like, eight little speakers hung all over the store. While this had the potential to create an awesome aural ambience with the right music (such as Meddle by Pink Floyd or Another Green World by Eno), this effect was never utilized. Rajiv usually played some New Age Muzak, or recordings of Himalayan waterfalls (if there are such a thing).
Nature's Kitchen also sold cassettes (this was 1989, pre-CD accessibility for most consumers), mostly Windham Hill crap, Enya, and supposed recordings of whale songs and rainforests. A lot of tacky independent stuff, too, done by some Yanni-wannabe with a glorified mullet. They all had stupid names like Rainmajick or Yoga Flight or some shit. So as not to disturb the peaceful vibrations of Nature's Kitchen, I never brought in anything cool to play while I was closing. I usually just listened to Tangerine Dream while I swept lethargically and ate peace sign cookies and drank spritizers.
From the several times I'd examined the content labels of the multitude of little brown tincture bottles, I had noticed that they possessed a really high alcohol content (like 45%, 90 proof). I never really thought about it, though. One evening, however--in a moment of clarity--I realized that if I were to drink the contents of one of the little brown bottles it would probably get me fucked up. I didn't feel right about taking a whole little brown tincture bottle, though--they cost like $16.95 and up, plus they tasted awful, even in small doses. But then again, I thought, if I were to deposit only a dropper full of each into my spritzer, I wouldn't really be depriving anyone of anything and it wouldn't taste so bad. So that's what I did.
I grabbed random little brown bottles and put a dropperful of each into my spritzer and chugged it like a wine cooler. An almost immediate narcotic effect took hold of me and I had to sit on the floor of Nature's Kitchen for who knows how long until I was in a condition that would allow me to finish my closing duties. While I was on the floor in a temporary tincture-induced paralysis, I listened to whatever trippy New Age shit Rajiv had been playing before he went home for the night. I finally saw how people could listen to it. Each little chime resounded for what seemed like minutes, the flutes emulated liquid form and the droning cymbals seemed to evacuate my mind of all negative thoughts. As I came down from my tincture high, however, it just started giving me an awful fucking headache and I had to turn it off, never to deliberately focus on it again.
Anyway, years later some Christians bought Nature's Kitchen and made it all lame and started selling Jesus Christ coloring books. But Rajiv bout it back from them and expanded. What does all this have to do with Gina Malfatti's Into the Zodiac? I've heard of people having acid flashbacks before, but never of someone having a Chinese herb flashback.
From the opening chords of "Reflections", I felt my soul astrally project itself out of my body and the present to the non-FDA-regulated Chinese herb-induced narcotic bliss that I experienced as a teenager on the floor of Nature's Kitchen. There was the familiar "if the Celts had keyboards..." sound, like a lower-end but overpriced floor model from the Yamaha shop at the mall. There was the requisite "student of Kenny G" sax solo. And, perhaps the most disturbing of sonic accompaniments, the sparingly-put-to-use overdriven guitar (which was probably purchased from the Yamaha store in the mall, too).
But then, amidst the quasi-ancient/futuristic din, there was the voice of Gina Malfatti--a beautiful hybrid of Loreena McKennit and Kate Bush--floating up, descending, performing spirals and easing my bad trip. I'd like to hear her voice accompanied by violin or cello and without the 80's synthesizer-laden aromatherapy candle ambience exhibited on Into the Zodiac though. Oh well.
--Felix "The Siskiyou Arts Council Are A Bunch of Fucking Posers" Thursday