Listening to songs without understanding their lyrics is like eating in the dark. If you can&rsquo;t see your food, you focus more on other traits, like its aromas and textures. </p><p>When you can&rsquo;t focus on a song&rsquo;s lyrics, you pay deeper attention to its other qualities, like the discreet lines in vocal harmonies or the interplay between soloists and the rhythm section or the band&rsquo;s lavish wardrobe.</p><p>Linda Ronstadt performed Thursday night at the Midland theater with Los Camperos de Nati Cano, the world&rsquo;s premier mariachi band (they&rsquo;re like the Chieftains of their world). Except for some between-song banter, the entire show was performed in Spanish. Much of the crowd of about 1,000 seemed to be fluent in that language, but even those of us who weren&rsquo;t had plenty to admire and enjoy, no translation needed. </p><p>Los Camperos is a mariachi ensemble of violins, trumpets, several folk guitars, a folk harp, a guitarron (a large, portly bass guitar) and a vihuela (a five-string rhythm guitar). The 10-man band wore the traditional <em>traje de charro </em>&mdash; the horseman&rsquo;s uniform. As they played, their enormous sombreros lay at the bases of their microphone stands.</p><p>For about 45 minutes, they entertained the crowd with several flavors of traditional Mexican music. Some of it was familiar even to the untrained ear, like &ldquo;El Jarabe Tapatio,&rdquo; known in English as &ldquo;The Mexican Hat Dance,&rdquo; and &ldquo;Cielito Lindo&rdquo; &mdash; the &ldquo;ay, ay, ay, ay&rdquo; song. </p><p>Traditional folk dancers joined the band for several numbers. They were dressed in dazzling traditional costumes that radiated with vibrant colors and exquisite embroidery.</p><p>Ronstadt joined them for much of the second half of the show. She wore black, from head to toe, her way, it seemed, of deferring to all the pageantry going on behind and around her. She still has plenty of &ldquo;Blue Bayou&rdquo; left in her voice, which is a luxurious combination of power, agility and beauty. It filled the theater, all the way to the top at the Chandelier Bar, even during her quietest moments. She sang solo and as part of a duet; she was also serenaded by one of the band&rsquo;s lead vocalists.</p><p>The combination of instrumentals, vocals and dance illustrated many things about traditional music, but especially its connectedness. As the dancers stomped gracefully through a song, it was easy to compare them with traditional Irish step dancers. When the band members stepped out and traded solos &mdash; vocals or instrumental &mdash; they resembled a traditional bluegrass band, like the McCourys. </p><p>And when they coaxed the crowd into delivering the mariachi yell &mdash; a cousin to the Arkansas Razorback &ldquo;Wooo, Pig, Sooie&rdquo; and a Southern &ldquo;yeee-haw&rdquo; &mdash; the august theater felt a little like a roadhouse honky-tonk bar.</p><p>The entire show had a vintage and nostalgic feel to it, like the mood you can escape into while watching a classic movie. This music is timeless, true, but the show felt of another period &mdash; a much simpler one.</p><p>The easy cliche here is that music is a universal language, so the lyrics don&rsquo;t have to matter. But the message conveyed at the Midland was deeper than that. Music is also innate to us humans &mdash; as naturally elemental as the need to breathe. And when it is performed the way it was Thursday night &mdash; with a mixture of pride, respect and joy in front of an appreciative audience &mdash; it can nourish the spirit like nothing else.