It's not hard to see the sex appeal of mariachi. The tight slacks embroidered with monedas stamped with Aztec sun calendars and nuevo peso emblems are totally fucking chingon. The deep roaring vocals of the singers, along with the high-pitched gritos that make them seem even more like cocky roosters.
They hold sway over your emotions, making you salt Tecates with your tears by playing songs your deceased grandparents sang to you as a baby, and send chills up your spine with folk songs that make you want to belt out right along with them. They are the archetype of the Mexican masculine balladeer. And when the sun comes up, your voice is sore, la cervesa is poured, you want one of this macho musicians to serenade you in bed.
