LISANDRO MEZA - MI CARRITO 12" Vinyl LP Album

- ORIGINAL Colombian Pressing

"Mi Carrito" (1985) Album Description:

Introduction

Lisandro Meza y su Conjunto didn’t make "Mi Carrito" to be “background music” - this one is built to move bodies and reset moods. It’s a 1985 Colombian cumbia LP that feels like sunlight hitting a dusty street, right when the party finally starts. Put it on and the room immediately develops hips.

Historical and cultural context

Mid-’80s Colombia is where dance music wasn’t a luxury - it was survival, community, and a little bit of rebellion without needing a manifesto. In Medellin, Colombia, labels like Sonolux were documenting the everyday heartbeat: regional styles, bandstand energy, and songs meant to live outside the studio. This record belongs to that real-world tradition - the kind that gets worn down by love, not by collectors wearing gloves.

How the band came to record this album

Meza had already earned his stripes as a key voice in cumbia’s evolution, with roots in accordion-driven styles and the kind of band experience you don’t get from sitting politely in a rehearsal room. The page notes his early profile as a founding member of Los Corraleros de Majagual, that legendary breeding ground that also connects to names like Fruko. By the time "Mi Carrito" rolls in, you’re hearing an artist who knows exactly how to aim joy like a dart.

The production side keeps it grounded: Julio Segundo Villa as producer, and Gabriel Alzate C. handling mezcla y corte - mixing and cutting that turns a band’s sweat into something a needle can translate. It’s the classic “get in, capture the spark, don’t overthink it” energy, the opposite of modern music’s obsession with polishing the life out of everything.

The sound, songs, and musical direction

The album description calls Meza’s style a cross between rural Dominican merengue, Louisiana zydeco, and Tex-Mex norteño - and yeah, that’s weirdly accurate, like a passport full of stamps that still somehow matches your face. The accordion leads, but it doesn’t hog the spotlight; it steers the groove like a confident driver who doesn’t need to slam the horn. Everything feels designed for motion: dance-floor momentum, smiles you can hear, and melodies that stick like warm humidity.

The title track "Mi Carrito" is the obvious flag planted in the ground - catchy, proud, and built for repeat plays until your neighbors start accidentally learning the chorus. Tracks like "La Kakunanga" and "El Pasado Ya Paso" (even the title screams “keep moving”) sell the album’s emotional range: playful on the surface, quietly lived-in underneath. Flip to Side Two and you get that sweet ache in "Esperando Una Llamada" and "Corazon Herido" - proof this isn’t just party fuel, it’s real life wearing dancing shoes.

Comparison to other albums in the same genre/year

In the mid-’80s cumbia world, plenty of records chased polish or leaned hard into formula - clean, safe, instantly forgettable. "Mi Carrito" lands closer to the lived-in side: human timing, band chemistry, and that accordion tone that feels like it’s grinning at you. The page doesn’t list peer albums from 1985, so I’m not going to name-drop “comparisons” like I’m bluffing my way through a record fair.

Band dynamics and creative tensions

No dramatic soap-opera notes are spelled out on the page, but the record itself sounds like a unit that understands the job: lock the rhythm, let the melody flirt, never lose the dance-floor thread. This is ensemble thinking - the kind where everyone leaves space, because the groove is the boss. If there were tensions, they got converted into forward motion, which is honestly the healthiest possible outcome for musicians.

Critical reception and legacy

The page frames Lisandro Meza as a major figure in cumbia’s evolution, and "Mi Carrito" reads like evidence rather than a claim. It’s the sort of LP that survives because it works: on a good system, on a cheap system, at a family party, or alone at night when you want the room to feel less quiet. As an original Colombian pressing, it also has that collector magic - not because it’s “rare” for internet points, but because it’s a real artifact of place and time.

Reflective closing paragraph

The cover says it all: Meza leaning on that classic car, key in hand, accordion ready - like he’s about to drive the whole neighborhood straight into a better mood. With photography credited to Camilo Moreno and even the “classic car” shout-out to Herman Gutierrez Maya, this sleeve feels proudly everyday, not manufactured mystique. Decades later, these grooves still smell faintly of warm pavement, crowded rooms, and the kind of optimism you only get when the rhythm refuses to let you sit still.