Tango and Chaos (rebuilt)

The Next Step So far we’ve identified a few quick examples of what it means to have the music inside. In the first 20 seconds of Ismael’s video we looked at how he waited and picked up the music with his first step, and how he used a half  giro  to follow a short bit of piano in  Extraña . We also looked at how a younger couple marked bits of melody and  compás  in Biaggi’s  Quejas . While these are small things, they’re also profound—because not one in a thousand tango dancers does them. We also presented examples of more “complex” steps (or patterns or movements) in the Blas-Graciela and Pachin- La Gallega  videos. The question is, where to go next. If our goal is to present videos as a path for learning tango, we should present an organized series that progresses from the basics up through more advanced levels of musicality. It would be possible to do, but it would be a lot of work—and I’m not really sure how effective it would be. I’m not sure who will read this, or how many w

Sharing Tango "A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds"  X -Ralph Waldo Emerson  I used to think my only job in tango was to dance for my partner and myself. I thought that as long as you don't bother anyone else on the floor, that’s it. You have no responsibility to anyone who might be watching. I think my attitude was a reaction to the place in the U.S. where I began in tango. Everyone there was learning a sort of low level stage tango, and they were always looking for a way to "demonstrate it to the community”. They held milongas in bars and restaurants so people could see them, and they looked for public events and places where they could do demonstrations—but to me it seemed like a thinly disguised excuse to show off. However, nothing in tango is simple. One day I was giving my “dance only for yourself” opinion, and one of the milongueras said gently, "Well yes. But you and Alej are friends, and we like to watch you dance. Peopl

Blas Three years ago, Blas and Graciela decided to start a new milonga downtown, and as organizers in BsAs often do, they initiated it by dancing  La Cumparsita . It's not exactly a performance, but it is customary for other dancers to stay off the floor, and maybe to applaud for luck at the end. Their lucky dance must have worked, because the milonga has since become very popular—although you might not have expected it in the beginning. I think Alej and I (and a tango band that was packing up from an earlier event) were almost the only people there. Here are Blas and Graciela dancing to D'Arienzo's  Cumparsita : Let’s compare this video to the one on the previous page. Clearly, there are differences. Blas seems to move around more than Ismael, and he also does more “steps” (I never know what to call the individual elements of tango. Are they steps? Or figures? Or patterns?) In one sense you might say Blas’ tango in this video is more “complex” than Ismael’s

“No Me Extraña” I used to think the English translation for this tango was “She doesn’t miss me”—but it actually means “It doesn’t surprise me” (which surprises me). The words could be translated either way, but in the context of this tango, it has the second meaning. Here's the music: NO ME EXTRAÑA , Pedro Laurenz con Juan Carlos Casas You loved me… then you left me. How can I blame you? Now we’re like we were before... back where we started. Your leaving didn’t surprise me, and neither did my pain. That’s the way life is… today it takes away what it gave us yesterday. Me quisiste… me dejaste. Que te puedo reprochar? Hoy, estamos como antes... volveremos a empezar. No me extraña tu partida, ni me asombra mi dolor. Eso es cosa de la vida… que hoy nos quita lo que ayer nos dio. This one says everything in a few short sentences: “Boy gets girl… boy loses girl. Love fades… that’s life.” This is a nice example of the De Caro style of melodic tangos. It b

Training the Eye I suppose there are two basic ways to study tango. One is to drill down close—to focus in on the best dancers, and attempt to analyze each move. The other way is to step back and take a longer view—to watch how the good dancers embrace and move, and try to absorb the whole package. I realize that most beginners tend to use the first approach. They want to take things apart and see what makes them tick—and it's a very effective way to learn. But in tango the key is to know which things are worth such close scrutiny. Dancers who spend too much time analyzing patterns and “moves” tend to develop a mechanical style that’s easy to spot. And if you dance that way in the clubs, you’ll quickly join the ranks of the invisible people. For me, there are only three things in tango that are worth putting under a microscope: Cadence, Posture, and Step. You can’t examine them too closely, and you can’t practice them too much. And in the next chapter, we’ll try to help you

"El Bulín de la Calle Ayacucho" "The Clubhouse on Ayacucho Street" Tango was born in the southern part of Buenos Aires, but it quickly spread all around the city. This famous tango is about an apartment in the fashionable  Recoleta  neighborhood of the 1920s: EL BULÍN DE LA CALLE AYACUCHO , Troilo con Fiorentino  The bulín on Ayacucho Street, that I rented when I was young and wild… the bulín where the guys would drop in at night to play cards and gamble. The bulín where so many of the boys in those tough times, found food and a place to sleep... feeling desperate, as if they would cry. The primus stove never failed me... it was loaded with fuel, and there was always hot water... mate was the thing there. There was always a guitar, shiny and well tuned, and a playboy with a nasal voice, who dreamed of becoming a singer. El bulín de la calle Ayacucho, que en mis tiempos de rana alquilaba… el bulín que la barra buscaba pa´caer por la noche a

"Paisaje " "Landscape Painting" What a fascinating thing—the way art can mysteriously transform something and give it a new nature. What is this process that makes things more than what they are? Letters on a piece of paper, or colors on a canvas, or movements around a room somehow become more than just words or colors or physical movements. And music may be the most mysterious transformation of all. How is it possible to make vibrations in the air into something more? How, for example, is it possible to make sound waves become a certain time of year? Obviously there are birds chirping in the summer, and the winter is sometimes quieter—but I don’t normally think of the seasons as having a different sound. Yet after I translated this tango, it began to sound like autumn. Not just the words—but the music itself! It began to sound like "the ache of autumn". Like the sound of fall slipping into winter. How do you put something into the cadence and the t

" Tristezas de la Calle Corrientes " "Corrientes Street Blues" I tried to translate this tango about five years ago, and it didn't come out very well. The words and the structure of the poetry were too difficult. That’s when I realized that not only does a good translation help you dance tango, but also, a bad translation can sometimes ruin a tango for you. For a long time I didn’t care much for  Tristezas,  because it just didn't make sense to me. Now however, with the help of my  profesora , I discovered that part of the earlier problem wasn't totally my fault. I had originally checked what I was hearing against the  castellano  lyrics on the  Todotango  website. Todotango is a good Argentine site that I use as a reference for names and dates in tango, and it's usually accurate. I assumed their lyrics came from the pages originally written for Tristezas,  and would be correct. But for some reason, they had the word  "Si"  instead o

"Amarras" "Mooring Lines" From 1935 to 1945 tango grew and changed in ways it never had before—and never would again. Great poets sat in the  confiterias  writing lyrics, and the orchestras were playing to packed milongas every night. Tango owned the city, and the incredible creativity and energy in the air must have inspired everyone. There’s a lot of speculation about when and where tango was born, but I think the answer is easy. While the rest of the world was tearing itself apart with war, tango was being born in Buenos Aires. It all comes from those ten years. The most golden time of the Golden Age. We just listened to a couple of tangos from 1938, so let’s jump ahead to 1944 and see what’s new. The tango is  Amarras . An  amarra  is a mooring line used to tie a ship to the dock (or maybe in this case, a tree on the bank of the  Riachuelo ). The guy in this tango has a  lancha carbonera ; a boat that he uses to transport coal up the  Riachuelo,  into