Crunchy ‘Nanas

Ozomatli’s “Don’t Mess with the Dragon” is brilliant. It makes you shake it and want to take action toward a better world in true Ozo fashion. It does not disappoint. Except in the moments when you wonder if they have stayed true to themselves, or if they could have sacrificed a bit of their inner fire in attempt to (finally!) break into the mainstream. If they have done, I can’t blame them. I don’t understand the mechanics of the airwaves. Lily Allen and James Blunt get played so many times you want to rip out your car radio and toss it out the window while crossing the Thames. Yet, a group that makes awesome, innovative sound and has inspiring things to say rarely gets airplay. Though, I wonder if this could have more to do with their politics than their music. Which is another sad commentary on the world.

The hype around this album seems to be its cohesiveness, its flow. I agree, it’s smooth. But better? No. I’m with the 372 people on the website poll so far who say they love it, but don’t choose it as the best album they’ve ever done. Call me crazy, but part of Ozo’s charm is hip-hop one minute, cumbia the next. Ah hell, let’s slip in some string orchestration. Mix in your middle Eastern tones with your salsa groove to rock out. For me, this works. I like their diversity. I LIKE that you can’t assign them neatly to a musical genre. They are bigger than that proverbial box.

But, I guess in the real world, that doesn’t make for radio play. (Which is a shame, what’s wrong with people?) I hope this album gets them the recognition they’ve worked so hard the last twelve years to earn. But, even if it doesn’t, they’ll still have their loyal fans. We know it just ain’t a party with no O-Z-Os!

27 days, 1 hour, 45 minutes, and 20 seconds. WORD!!

Until I can get my paws on “Don’t Mess with the Dragon”, I may have to revert to the old days of the cassette Walkman (yes I still have and use mine), so that I can dance, um I mean train, out on the route to some rockin’, booty shaking new stuff from the boys.

Shake, shake, shake…you can’t stop this love, can’t stop now, got to keep moving,
we’ve got faith in what love can do, don’t look back, we’re gonna make it through

This is definitely one for the “please get me up this one last hill” mix. If this doesn’t make you dance, better check your pulse.

I married a man unfamiliar with Digital Underground’s ‘Humpty Dance’. After writing of dance moves you won’t see me attempt out on the open trail, my husband confessed he didn’t know the song that might stir one to breakdance. As far as he knew, it didn’t really cross ‘the pond’. And, of course, being of slightly different ages, he was too mature, too cool even, to have taken any notice anyway. (As opposed to she who enjoys doing ‘Funky Cold Medina’ at karoake night. Trust me, it’s better than hearing me try to actually sing!)

But my husband is lucky to have me. This cultural deficiency has been rectified. Thanks to YouTube, I was able to blast my adolescent middle school past straight into our living room. It’s not PC. It’s a little bit rude n’ crude, as these things go. But, if you don’t take it seriously, it cracks you up. The glasses! The nose! I don’t understand!

After a brief lesson, he’s now hip with the kids. (Or, at least the kids of 1989. You know, the ones who thought Hammer pants were cool.) Tonight, I plan to teach him everything he needs to know about cutting a mean running man and roger rabbit . Then he’ll really be ready to tear up the floor this weekend. Look out Pinner, here we come!

Today’s run

Distance: 4.0 miles

Time: 39:55

Pace: 9:58 min/mile

My husband was quite chipper, trying to compose a Crunchy ‘Nanas theme song. He tried Crunchy ‘Nanas in pajamas are coming down the stairs. I shook my head and reminded him that wasn’t very original. His next try was a chorus of Smelly ‘nanas, smelly ‘nanas—please stop me if you’ve heard this one before.

Me, I can’t get old school Digital Underground out of my head. My name is Crunchy…I like my oatmeal lumpy. Which is an important reason why the ipod comes with me on my runs. (Safely, of course. Only one ear phone in so I can listen to my surroundings with the other ear.) I can’t have this one line looping itself incessantly in my mind while I beat down the trail! It would drive me nuts. Or worse, it could stir me to breakdance. Which, in itself, wouldn’t be a problem. If I could breakdance. But, I can’t. Which is really a shame. The only caterpillars on the path will be those that turn into butterflies and moths.

[Note: After reviewing my 1980s dance moves, I've learned that what I always think of as the Caterpillar is properly known as the Centipede. But, centipedes don't turn into butterflies. I am a biologist. I know these things. And I like the image and alliteration of breakdancing butterflies. So, I am exercising my creative license and leaving it as is!]