To most people, Mexican music means mariachis. Or even, for the spectacularly ignorant, Andean Pan-pipes (this sadly came to me recently out of a highly respected London publishing-house).

Mariachis are hard to beat, their music is infectious and the full-on harmonies and volume perfectly match the high-colour and heat of long Mexican afternoons and tequila-fuelled evenings. Their homeland is Jalisco, and a Sunday afternoon in one of Guadalajara’s big family restaurants gives the best overview. Small groups of musicians (usually a couple of trumpets, a guitar and a violin or two) move from table to table to play pieces chosen and paid for by the diners, some of whom end up shedding a tear or two in sympathy with the more soulful songs. It’s heart-rending stuff.

Next best is Plaza Garibaldi in Mexico City where huddles of dazzlingly-besuited violinists, guitarists and trumpeters hang out waiting for commissions, rain or shine. night or day. I once witnessed an old couple in beaten-up anoraks waltzing to their favourite tunes on a grey and drizzly afternoon. They were oblivious to everything and the scene was amazingly touching. That’s the basis of it - it’s popular music in the true sense.

In 1992 the film El Mariachi, by Robert Rodriguez, gave the itinerant troubadour’s job an extra poignancy as the main protagonist wandered from bar to bar and hotel to hotel. The next step is to get Rodriguez’ fabulous CD, Mexico & Mariachis. Even if it’s much loved by Quentin Tarantino (not necessarily the best reference), it’s still good.

If there’s one problem with mariachi music it’s that it doesn’t always fit when you get back home. It’s loud, high on brass and pumps energy so you’ve got to be in buoyant mood or partying hard. If not then it’s time to shift gear to Lila Downs, the Mexican cult singer whose deep and mesmerising voice just seems to get better and better. With a name like Downs it’s not surprising that she’s actually half American and grew up partly in Minnesota, so there’s some outside influence. Nonetheless her voice touches deep deep chords. In particular I love one her earlier albums, Tree of Life, with its mix of prehispanic sounds and insistent drum from the Valley of Oaxaca. This is where her mother was born and where Lila Downs spent part of her childhood. It’s a more melancholic Downs compared with her more recent, upbeat stuff. La Linea  is another of my favourites thanks to its prehispanic and Mexican folk instruments. Even better, it’s dedicated to the extraordinary spirit of Mexican migrants seeking new lives over the border. Her international concert tour this year is looking serious, so worth checking out (see www.liladowns.com)

Oddly, Oaxaca’s other diva with an equally haunting voice, Susana Harp, also claims foreign blood, in her case a Lebanese father. Having had nothing like the international exposure of Lila Downs she’s kept a more ‘folky’ authentically Mexican sound as well as finding time to train as a psychologist. I still love listening to her first CD, Xquenda, which I bought nearly 10 years ago in Puerto Escondido. This has songs in Zapotec and really highlights her superbly modulated voice, full of harmony and again very moving. susanaharp.com

On to my latest find, tragically too late for a living musician, as 27-year old Valentin Elizade was gunned down late last year in a gangland killing in northern Mexico. His ‘banda’ sound comes straight out of the north and his lyrics romanticise the interlinked worlds of drugs and violence in the border territory. Lyrics aside, the music is fabulous, real big band stuff with a contemporary twist. Ironically, it is now the latest hip sound to be played at Mexican bourgeois parties. Too late for Valentin, however, who died in a dramatic spray of 30 or so bullets. A latter-day Clyde who’s left a strong legacy.