What can I say, I LOVE a good Mariachi band. They are lively, passionate, soulful and you can't help but want to tap your toe.
I recently went to the Maya Exhibit at the Royal Ontario Museum in Toronto, and one of the luring enticements, was that during the holiday period, they had a Mariachi band performing. I heard the last show of their stay here. It was fun, it was moving, it made me tap my feet, made me smile, made me misty and made me want to hear more. I love their flying hands on all the strings, the yodeling and hooting in the songs, the melodic sounds of a specific region, the look of the big round base, their black uniforms with the silver embellishments running down their legs with their perfect posture and the memories it brings back for me.
Mariachi music is the sound of my childhood Christmases. My parents would put on their Mariachi records on the turntable during the Christmas season, when I still believed in Santa. It was a special time. An innocent time. A time when our pink flocked pine tree was the most gorgeous thing I ever saw, and I had it in my basement rec room to enjoy and remember fondly to this day.
Well of course I had to buy the CD, for my next Christmas.