This may simply be a room, four walls that traffic grinds past. This may just be another party, a buffet table and some balloons. And this may just be notes, flung up one after the other as fingers pull on strings and the violin's bow trembles.

Or it could be more.

Mariachi transforms this place. The six members of Mariachis El Sol de America stand in a semi-circle, black shoes polished and gleaming, rows of silver buttons marking the line of a pant leg. They echo against these walls with the trumpet's golden strut, the dance of guitar and guitarron. As they play, the room fills with lovers and heroes, with adventure and heartache, with soft songs sung into a warm and dusty wind. It fills with Mexico, with the past, vibrant colors and well-known stories.

With the music, the woman in the red dress leans toward the man in the white cowboy hat. The little girls, sitting sprawled on the floor in white dresses, look up. The guest of honor, surrounded by friends and family, tilts her head as she listens.

This is magic spun from the wink of the silver button, the flash of the red scarf and the rise and sway of song. This is mariachi.