Like the spices and salsas that bring our senses to life and remind us who we are, music is a staple of our daily existence, as essential as bread, tortillas, plantains, potatoes, and beans and rice. In the plethora of sounds that advanced technological societies serve up to us, we choose what we hear, just as we choose what we eat. We remember where we come from by listening and savoring our roots, the rhythms and melodies that our families give us. We realize where we are by turning on the radio, by opening our ears and hearts to what surrounds us. As the Puerto Rican and Cuban musicians say in New York City, "La música es mi bandera," music is my flag.

My own corner of the Hispanic world is New Mexico, with its deserts and mountains and valleys. Here the oldest music is also the most cherished. The alabado hymns, from the 16th century, are sung on holy days by entire communities in solemn antiphony. The ancient stories unfold as the communal choruses answer.