If you had told me that I would name drop Chumbawamba twice in less than 6 months I would have laughed in your face. Actually, if you had told me I would name drop them ONCE, I would have laughed..."I get knocked down, but I get up again"? That band?
But apparently, Chumbawamba were a well-known and respected anarchist punk outfit in the 1980s (I need to listen to "Pictures of Starving Children Sell Records") and the few reviews I've read of Karma Sutra's "The Daydreams of a Production Line Worker" always mention Chumbawamba. One reviewer also mentioned Killing Joke crossed with Chumbawamba.
I would also say Karma Sutra (Luton, England) reminds me of what a more ferocious Chameleons UK might have sounded like. The Bandcamp write up also mentions Thatcher on Acid (listen to TOA's "cover" of The Wedding Present on "My Favourite Mess"). And not all of this Karma Sutra release is punk - listen to "When the Music Stops".
This was originally released on Paradoxical Records in 1987. Sealed Records reissued the LP in 2025.
The Enchanting History of Love Magic Across Cultures
February has arrived with its whisper of roses, chocolates, and declarations of affection, the air is charged with the promises of love. Valentine's Day (Feb. 14th), though modern in its commercial veneer, is steeped in traditions that reach deep into human history. Among these, the practice of love magic—rituals, spells, and charms to attract, secure, or mend love—has traversed cultures, continents, and centuries. Let us embark on a journey to uncover how African, the African diaspora, Indigenous American, Asian, and European traditions have woven love magic into the tapestry of their spiritual and cultural practices.
Africa: Love and Spiritual Power Intertwined
In many African cultures, love magic reflects the profound connection between the spiritual and the mundane. Among the Yoruba people of Nigeria, practitioners of Ifá divination often called upon the Orisha Osun (Oshun) for love, beauty, and fertility. Offerings of honey, cowrie shells, and fresh water were made to Osun to invoke her blessings for harmonious relationships or to rekindle fading passion.
Meanwhile, across the continent, the use of botanicals for love magic was also widespread. In South Africa, for example, Sangomas (traditional healers) used herbs like "Umavumbuka" to foster reconciliation, harmony and emotional healing. These rituals often reflected the belief that love and harmony within relationships were essential for community balance, weaving personal desire into collective well-being.
African Diaspora: Love Magic in Survival and Resistance
As the African diaspora spread through the transatlantic middle passage, love magic was adapted and evolved within the crucible of multiple new environments. In the Americas, Hoodoo—an African American spiritual tradition—emerged, integrating African, Indigenous, Jewish and European influences. Practitioners used "mojo bags" filled with herbs, roots like John the Conqueror or Queen Elizabeth root and other personal items, powders or oils to draw love or fidelity. Honey jars, a sweetening spell to encourage affection and harmony, remain popular in contemporary Hoodoo practices.
In the Caribbean, Vodou and Obeah intertwined African cosmologies with local and European influences. In Haitian Vodou, for instance, Erzulie Freda, the lwa (spirit) of love and beauty, was and is still often petitioned for matters of the heart. Her rituals often included perfumes, pink and white candles, and luxurious offerings symbolizing sensual pleasure and emotional depth.
Global Indigenous Cultures: Love Magic in Harmony with Nature
For many Indigenous American cultures, love magic was less about control and more about alignment with natural energies. Among the Navajo, for instance, "beautyway" ceremonies invoked harmony and balance, which also extended to relationships. Love charms crafted from turquoise, or shells were believed to attract a compatible partner, resonating with the spiritual properties of these materials.
The Cherokee practiced rituals to strengthen bonds between lovers or to resolve conflicts. Songs, dances, and natural elements—such as cedar or sage—were integral to these ceremonies, symbolizing purification and renewal.
Indigenous peoples outside the Americas also have their own rich traditions of love magic. Among the Sami people of Scandinavia, noaidi (shamans) practiced rituals that included the use of drums and joik (a traditional form of song) to invoke spiritual assistance in matters of love and relationships. These practices were deeply tied to the natural cycles and spirits of the Nordic landscape.
In South America, the Quechua and Aymara peoples of the Andes incorporated love magic into their spiritual practices. Coca leaves, a sacred plant, were often used in divination to seek guidance about romantic relationships or to attract a desired partner. Rituals performed at sacred sites, such as mountains or lakes, were believed to align the participants with Pachamama (Mother Earth) to ensure harmony in love.
Indigenous Australian cultures often intertwined love magic with Dreamtime stories, the spiritual and temporal framework of their worldview. Rituals might have included sand drawings, chants, and symbolic offerings to attract or strengthen love, aligning the participants with the ancestral energies of the land.
Asia: The Alchemy of Love
Asian cultures have also long embraced love magic, often blending it with spiritual and philosophical traditions. In China, Taoist love spells focused on harmonizing yin and yang energies within partnerships. Charms inscribed with auspicious characters or infused with essential oils were used to attract romantic opportunities or sustain marital bliss.
In India, the Kama Sutra, more than a manual of intimacy, delved into rituals and practices for fostering love and attraction. Ayurveda, India’s ancient medicinal system, recommended aphrodisiac herbs like ashwagandha and shatavari to enhance passion and deepen emotional connection.
Japanese folklore, on the other hand, speaks of "omamori" love talismans blessed at Shinto shrines. These were carried to invoke the protection and favor of kami (deities) for romantic endeavors.
Europe: Spells of Romance and Obsession
Europe’s history of love magic is a blend of folklore, mysticism, and religious undertones. In ancient Greece and Rome, love potions—often made from herbs like myrtle or rose—were crafted to awaken desire. Aphrodite (or Venus), the goddess of love, was frequently invoked in rituals, with offerings of doves or apples symbolizing beauty and fertility.
During the medieval and Renaissance periods, love magic often walked a fine line between fascination and persecution. The use of "philters" (love potions) and "poppets" (dolls) to influence romantic outcomes could lead to accusations of witchcraft. Yet, folk practices persisted. For instance, English cunning folk recommended carrying rose quartz to attract love, while French peasants relied on charms sewn into clothing to inspire fidelity.
Love Magic Today: A Universal Language
Despite its varied expressions, love magic is a universal thread linking humanity’s longing for connection. In modern times, these ancient traditions continue to inspire spiritual practices. From lighting candles on Valentine’s Day to crafting intention spells, the essence of love magic endures—reminding us that love is as much a spiritual endeavor as it is an emotional one.
This Valentine’s Day, whether you light a candle, gift a rose, or simply reflect on the magic of love, remember: across every culture and era, love has been a force worth invoking, celebrating, and cherishing.
Bibliography :
Yoruba Religion and African Spiritual Practices: Drewal, H. J. (2009). Yoruba: Nine Centuries of African Art and Thought.
Hoodoo and Vodou Traditions: Anderson, J. L. (2008). Conjure in African American Society.
Indigenous American Rituals: Johnston, B. (1976). Ojibway Ceremonies.
Asian Love Magic: Needham, J. (1956). Science and Civilisation in China.
European Folk Practices: Kieckhefer, R. (1997). Magic in the Middle Ages.
Indigenous Traditions in Australia and Scandinavia: Pentikäinen, J. (1996). Shamanism and Culture.
Andean Spiritual Practices: Bastien, J. W. (1985). Mountain of the Condor: Metaphor and Ritual in an Andean Ayllu.
Warnings: 18+ readers/interaction ONLY. slut-shaming, female objectification, frat boy Sam, crude language, alcohol consumption, mention of drug usage, mention of graphic injury. Fluff. :)
Word Count: 2.3K
A/N: I've brought Karma Sutra back from the dead and have reworked much of the story in a way that better suits the way I have always wanted the story line to go. Hope you enjoy! Here's the first of many parts of Karma Sutra.
Listen while you read!
Karma Sutra Playlist
You felt eyes on you as you walked across the quad between classes. For what reason, you couldn’t place, but you knew that you were being watched. Peering across the quad, eyes flitting in all directions, you attempted to find the source of your insecurity. Nothing. You bundled yourself tighter within the thickness of your peacoat, shielding yourself from the evening cold. Making your way under an awning, you smelled the familiar odor of cigarette smoke. It wafted in your direction, beckoning for you to turn your gaze upward. Ugh. Of-fucking-course. Sam douche-bag-extraordinaire Kiszka. “Cold as fuck out here,” he said to you casually, puffing out O-rings of smoke from the side of his mouth.
“Mm, so you decide to step out in forty degree weather to smoke a ciggy?” You spat sarcastically.
“It’s a bad habit, sweetheart. You know what they say…they die hard.” You rolled your eyes and marched away from him. “There’s a party on the row tonight–you coming?” your eyebrows furrowed instantly, turning over your shoulder to meet his gaze.
“I haven’t been to a frat party in over a year, Sam. Why would I?” He threw his hands in the air, shrugging. His cigarette remained burning between two fingers, dropping ashes every few seconds to the ground.
“Just thought it might be nice to see a refreshing face for once.”
What the fuck? Why was Sam taking sudden interest in me? “I gotta make it to class. See you around.” You waved him off and continued walking to class.
“Hey, Y/N, for old-time’s-sake, it really would be nice to see you there.” His eyes were the color of chocolate, which was ironic. His beauty could melt any girl on campus just like the confection–except for you. You would always be the exception. “Bye, Samuel.”
Samuel. He liked the way his name sounded on your lips. He bit at the corner of his lip, his eyes trailing you as you disappeared within the halls. Mm, I’ll save her for later, he thought. Blowing out the last puff of smoke, he stubbed out his cigarette against the brick wall, dropping it carelessly to the ground before strolling away to the next entertaining encounter.
***
Philosophy class soon turned into Philo-so-fucking-boring class extremely fast. Your mind wandered from the lecture, unable to focus. Why the fuck was he watching me? The truth that you wouldn’t even admit to yourself was that you had feelings for Sam, and had since freshman year. They’ve remained in the recesses of your mind ever since. For one, he was an asshole. You and almost every girl on campus knew it; however, some part of you would always have a soft spot for him, no matter how cocky he was. He just didn’t know it, and you sure as hell wouldn’t show it either. Fuck that red turtleneck sweater. Why did he have to look so good in it? You caught yourself doodling random hearts and sparkles in the margins of your notes as you thought about him.
“Pssst, hey.” Your best friend, Paige, jabbed you from behind with the top of her pen. “Pay attention, there’s going to be an exam tomorrow.” Your hands flew to cover your notebook from her view. “What are you hiding?” She whispered, curious as to why you were being so secretive.
“It’s nothing, just drawings.” You realized a little bit too late that mere drawings wouldn’t have elicited such a reaction.
“Doesn’t seem like it’s just a few drawings.”
“Ladies, would you like to share your conversation with the class? Is it more important than the material that will be on tomorrow’s exam? Would you like to take it today after class since you don’t seem invested in the review?” You fell silent and averted eye contact, heat creeping up your neck to your face. The remainder of class passed excruciatingly slow. When three o’clock finally arrived, you filtered out of the classroom to meet up with Paige.
“So I was thinking…how would you feel about going to the Row tonight.” Meeting your expectations, she recoiled instantly.
“Uh, who are you and where is Y/N? You never go to parties.” You turned away from her and began to walk down the hallway.
“I just thought it might be nice to do something different for a change.” Your cheeks were flaming again.
“You’re such a liar. Who is it?” You bit your lip.
“What do you mean?” you stalled. Paige stopped you mid-gait, grabbing at your arm.
“Who is it, Y/N?” You had no choice but to look at her.
“Ryan McClean.” Another Lie. It was a good replacement though. He was sweet, good looking and respectful. At least as much as could be expected for a frat boy. Paige stepped back with a hand on her hip.
“You’ve never mentioned him, let alone told me you have a crush on him.” You continued to walk, ushering her forward.
“Well, it kinda happened fast. I don’t know–I was hoping to see him tonight. I wanted to look cute.” You saved face by putting on an extra air of confidence.
“Okay, okay I see you!” Paige grinned, snapping her fingers left and right as she walked.
“Unfortunately, I have a date with Mark tonight–so I won’t be able to go.” You nodded, secretly relieved that she wouldn’t have to see you lose what little humility you had left.
“Stay connected to the phone, don’t drink too much, play safe, get home safe,” she counted off on her fingers.
“Thank you, Mom. Would you like to dress me, too?” you asked, grinning. Paige rolled her eyes playfully.
“Actually, now that you ask, let’s go pick out an outfit that doesn’t scream ‘pilgrim lost in the twenty-first century.’” You eyed her for a silent moment, challenging each other not to laugh, but you were the first one to lose, throwing your head back and cackling at her.
“You are such a bitch!” You said, elbowing her. “Let’s go. Paige wouldn’t let you go to that party without looking your best.
***
“Lacy Monroe.” “Total babe, thirteen out of ten, would fuck her any day,” Wyatt Sellars interjected, a massive grin pasted on his face.
“Okay, how about Holly?” Matthew asked the question from the ping-pong table, tapping balls back to Wyatt. Christian Hearst entered the room next, a towel wrapped around his waist, applying deodorant to his armpits.
“Wilson? She’s a bit of a bitch, but I'd chase her for a little while until I got bored.” He chuckled, walking to the fridge for a beer.
“How about Y/N?” The room falls silent, save for the fast bounce of the forfeited ping pong ball that was previously in play. Samuel Francis Kiszka. He sits cross-legged on a lounge chair in the corner, knocking back the rest of his IPA.
“You mean the sexiest girl at school?” Wyatt offered. “Is she Mormon or something? She could have easily made her way through the entire football team by now.”
“Jesus, you dumb fuck, she’s not Mormon.” Christian came behind Wyatt, thumping him on the back of his head.
“Well-I didn’t know, I–”
“I think she’s stunning,” Sam says, leaning forward to place his elbows on his knees. His grin was obvious, and his cunning expression cut through the room.
“Okay, asshole. What’s with the look?” Christian moved to the couch, taking a seat across from sam.
“I saw her today. Walking to class.” He licked his lips as he talked. Christian rubbed his hands together, prepared to hear about some salacious romp.
“And?”
Sam’s eyes grow wider. “Oh, n-nothing happened, I just saw her.” A chorus of disappointed scoffs filled the room.
“You fucking suck, man. You literally had us going, just for nothing,” Wyatt whined.
“It’s not like anything would happen– I’m pretty sure she’s a virgin anyway,” Sam continued with a casual shrug.
“Oh, so she’s the pick of the litter. Nice!” Matthew interjected. Sam looked at him with a minor look of disgust, shaking his head.
“So why are you being a pussy, Sam? I Bet–” Christian pointed his finger at Sam in a telling gesture. “I bet you…I bet you that she won’t let you take her virginity before the month is over.” Rising from his seat, Sam padded to the kitchen tossing his beer bottle across the room, where it clattered into the trash can.
“I bet you I can make it happen. Six hundred dollars and open supply of weed for one month–split evenly.” His grin emanated throughout the room.
“Aha, bet!” Matthew said, coming around Sam to slap him on the back in approval. “Paying up like a man.” Sam took a long gulp of his beer before retreating to his bedroom, shutting the door behind him.
***
Just as you finished your makeup, your hand slipped and your eyeliner streaked messily through the eyeshadow that you had just applied so effortlessly. “Fuck!” An exasperated sigh escaped your parted lips as you wiped at your eyelid to salvage the look. After several minutes, you emerged from the bathroom, fully dressed except for your top–you didn’t want to ruin it with makeup stains. Just as you pulled your head through the sparkly black crop top, your phone chimes. Paige.
Show Ryan what he’s missing, bitch! Shake that ass in my absence, too. Stay safe, I love you. Call me if you need me.
Right. Ryan. My little secret. You sent her a quick text wishing her well on her date. Pulling a pair of gold hoops through your ears, you got a notification that Carlos, your Uber driver, was waiting outside of your apartment. Grabbing a few last minute items, you made your way downstairs. Pulling up to campus, you noticed one thing first. It was loud. So loud in fact, that your head was pounding by the time you made it to the Row. The identical houses were arranged in a perfect square with a patch of green lawn in the middle. Adirondack chairs littered the grass, loosely thrown around a glowing brick fire-pit. Girls looped themselves around boys, chattering aimlessly with beverages that sloppily poured over the sides of their cups and onto their laps and into the grass. They giggled and slurred–their heels dug into the earth, causing several unfortunate partygoers to trip and lurch, earning themselves yet another spilled drink or bitchy laugh from gaggles of jealous and judgemental girls.
You rolled your eyes, debating on going after all, but your feet were already moving underneath you, carrying you along the sidewalk that led to each house. Who were you to think that it was smart to come here alone, especially when it was the first party you had attended in God-knows-how long?
“Y/n!” Your eyes darted upward, trying to place the voice that was calling your name. You found him. Your eyes met his and you instantly felt like you were drowning. A vignette seemed to filter out the unnecessary material around you; the blaring music muted, the giggles and shouts subsided into soft static. He was impeccably dressed in navy silk. A tailored blazer skimmed his bare chest, provided as a mere accessory rather than a true piece of clothing. His bottoms hugged at his frame, falling just above a perfectly shined pair of leather loafers. His hands were casually tucked into his pockets as he looked directly at you–with that fucking smile.
He strode towards you, knocking you out of the trance. Your breath hitched, sending bolts of panic through your system as he approached. Oh shit, what do I do? You thought, averting eye contact as you made every attempt to not look as awkward and helpless as you really were.
“You’re not a figment of my imagination, right? If I remember correctly, you acted like you would rather be caught dead than come to the Row.” His feet landed in front of you as he arrived. You met his eyes, crossing your arms defensively.
“Well, I wanted to see what I was missing–by the looks of it, it just looks like it’ll lead to meaningless sex and a bitch of a hangover.”
He readjusted in his spot, cocking an eyebrow upward. He likes your sass. He likes it a lot. “Well, it is a party, Y/n, what better to do than get drunk and fuck, hmm?” You scoffed at him, stepping off to the side, making your way to the first house. You heard his shoes tapping the pavement as he walked. Good. You wanted him to follow you.
“What's your drink of choice?” He asked, trying to change the subject to something more playful. “I usually stick with tequila–the citrus notes are just–” You heard him kiss the tips of his fingers in a ‘chef’s kiss’ gesture from behind you. You couldn’t help but grin, careful to maintain your guarded disposition.
“Got any Pappy?” You asked, turning over your shoulder with a grin. “I’m an expensive lay.”
Sammy snorted. “Two thousand dollar bourbon? You know the fucking answer, sweetheart.” That earned him a smile. You turned to face him and were immediately tossed upside down at the sight of his dimples.
“Well, we do have some lovely white claw reserve that was bought at this very upscale store. Maybe you know it–Target?” You couldn’t help but chuckle at him.
“Shut up, Sam!” He smiled warmly, coming beside you, pulling an arm around your shoulder.
“Let’s go find something worth drinking, hmm?” You hadn’t processed what was happening, but you didn’t want to, either. You let it happen, weighing risk versus reward. You stepped forward into the party with him at your side, forgetting the lie you had told Paige. So much for finding Ryan. You had found Sam.
