The spaceman smiled as he looked out of the little porthole in the side of the spaceship, at the fast approaching planet. The ships radar had announced three days ago that planet 6219 of the pinwheel galaxy was within reach, and he had immediately set their course for the small dot of hope in the vastness of space; the one planet left that could have the answer the human race needed so terribly. 
As the ship touched down, and the spaceman stepped out onto the soft green grass that covered the valley floor, he gasped; before him lay the most beautiful planet he'd ever encountered. Trees of gold, and rivers of the clearest water. Birds of paradise were strutting around the valley with feathers the colour of the rainbow. Beauty abounded, but nevertheless, he had a job to do.
Six days and nights he travelled. Through the fine spring days, and the cold winter nights, such is the climate of Planet 6219. Though he faced countless dangers, he never once slowed. Through the field of a thousand wishes, past the cave of the Kings, and finally, to the foot of the Mountain. Legend told of a wise Master who dwelt at the top in a permanent state of meditation. 
He gritted himself against the pain he knew was ahead, and set off up the mountainside. He battled on through the howling wind, past random sheep chilling on the rock face, past a school of llamas learning the ways of the hermit, and finally reached the summit. There, in a clearing, sat the Master, in a haze of wisdom. Spaceman summoned all of his courage, and called out, "Master, I require your presence!" Instantly the old one's eyes snapped upon, and a great whooshing sound could be heard as he was enshrouded in a cloud. When the clouds parted, before the Spaceman stood Sensei Ching, ruler of Planet 6219. "Ask what you will of me," he croaked. "Master, the fate of all who inhabit Earth rests upon me. I must find the answer to the ultimate question." 
"Ask", repeated Sensei Ching. 
"I must know...what do you get when you fuse funk, reggae, surf music, and folk? Is it the best music in the world?"
"Indeed. Indeed it is." Were the last words the Master spoke as he breathed his last, and became one with nature. 
There you have it, from the words of Ching himself. We are the best music in the world.  

Followers of Vasinator