Fresedo, qu'avez-vous fait de mon tango?

Osvaldo Fresedo

(Deutsche Version)

Those who have taken a closer look at classical music will remember the sonata form. It is a compositional model that is characteristic and typical of the music of the “classical” period. At closer examination, however, one cannot escape the impression, however, that while composers—especially the imaginative ones—made extensive use of the model, they nevertheless wanted to show again and again that there were other ways of composing and, thus, abated the model. It is precisely this point that makes their music interesting, that is: an expectation is created but it remains unfulfilled and is replaced by something unexpected and surprising.

What makes a tango a tango? In order not to get lost in an abyss of countless possibilities, let us render the question more precisely: What characterizes a “classical” Argentinian tango? The question cannot be adequately answered by referring to musical form, since tango is based on simple song forms that are used “universally” by other musical genres as well. Neither does the orchestration, the orquesta típica, provide a better answer since the orchestration is not more than a decoration of the music. Orquestas típicas (see Rodríguez, Carabelli, Canaro, for example) readily performed pieces of other genres that did not thereby turn into tangos.

The subject being still too extensive, let us limit our investigation, therefore, to two aspects that could be called characteristic, since one will find them in almost all tangos. The first one is a rhythmical figure, the síncopa; the second is a stylistically formative principle in which formally related sections of a piece are set off against each other.

The síncopa

Syncopation is a rhythmical procedure in which one or more notes, which normally appear on accented parts of a measure, are played on unaccented ones and help over to a following accented part of the measure. Syncopation can extend over more than one measure but in tango, a characteristic short figure—the síncopa—can be heard in almost every piece. (For this reason, we use the Spanish term síncopa in order to refer to this special context in tango.)

Here is an example. In the customary 2/4 time signature of tango, a typical síncopa could be notated as follows:

The arrows above the stave indicate the accented parts of the measures. It follows from this, that the outer notes fall on accented parts of a measure, however, while the inner ones fall on unaccented parts. Musically, it sounds as follows:

During the first three decades of the 20^th century, the composers of the guardia vieja employed the síncopa abundantly and sometimes constructed entire melodies out of this figure. The first melodic theme of Roberto Firpo's tango La Bordadora, in which the síncopa appears five times, may serve as an example.

La Bordadora (Roberto Firpo): A simplified rhythmical representation of the first melodic theme. The square brackets below the stave indicate the síncopas.

Musical Contrast as a Stylistically Formative Principle

The structural composition of a tango remains within the framework of simple musical forms. Normally, it consists of three melodies of 16 measures that are repeated and varied in one form or another. The musical interest of a piece lies largely in the implementation of the repetitions. The orchestras of the heyday of tango understood to invigorate the simple musical forms through variations in execution and orchestrations to such a degree that the pieces—in spite of their limited material—never appeared boring. Variety and contrast are a stylistically formative principle: If a melody or part thereof is played at first one way, then the continuation or repetition will be rendered in a different manner.

Variety and contrast can be expressed in a great number of ways: in the orchestration (violins are set against the bandoneons or the piano), the sound register (a melody appears in a high voice, than in a low one), the articulation or phrasing of a melody, etc. The alternating rendition of a melody as long or short note values is—like the síncopa—a typical component of tango.

(Executed by the violins, “long note values” means that the bow remains on the string and is pulled through over the whole length of the note. With “short note values”, the bow does not remain on the string, but only strikes it and is immediately taken off the string again. The difference between the two ways of playing is a different quality of sound.)

Let us look at Aromas, a tango by Osvaldo Fresedo, as an example. (We are referring here to Fresedo's recording of 1939 with the singer Roberto Ray.) The piece consists of three melodies of 16 measures and their repetitions. Each melody is made up of two eight-measure phrases that as opening and closing subsections define the melody as a unit. In order to differentiate the melodies and their phrase parts, we shall call them 1 A and B, 2 A and B, and 3 A and B, respectively.

Theme 1, part A, is played throughout with long note values, that is, “on the string”.

Fresedo Aromas, 1 A

Theme 1, part B, shows a mirror symmetry between the eight-measure phrases. The first phrase starts out with short “hammered” notes and ends with long ones played “on the string”. The second phrase begins with long note values “on the string” and ends with short ones.

Fresedo Aromas, 1 B

In theme 2, part A, the first phrase starts off with short “hammered” notes and ends with long ones “on the string”. The second phrase repeats the arrangement of the first.

Fresedo Aromas, 2 A

The first phrase of theme 2, part B, is played entirely in long note values, the second phrase entirely with short ones.

Fresedo Aromas, 2 B

Theme 3, parts A and B, show a freer alternation of sections with long and short note values. Nevertheless, they have been distributed in such a way that they reflect the internal structure of the theme.

Fresedo Aromas, 3 A

Fresedo Aromas, 3 B

As a diagram, the phrases executed as series of long and short note values could be presented as follows:

Fresedo Aromas, schematic view of the orchestration

Two conclusions can be drawn from the diagram above. First, the orchestration follows the internal structure of the melody, that is, the change between notes played “on the string” or “hammered” occurs at intersections of melodic units (consisting of two, four, eight, or sixteen measures). The structure, the form, of the musical piece is thus made audible. Second, the distribution within the eight-measure phrases reveals an architectural symmetry, especially in the first two phrases. This indicates planning and suggests that the arranger wanted to exploit the contrast of “long” and “short” note values as a means of musical expression.

Fresedo's Sueño azul

The above example for stylistically formative elements in tango have been chosen because they demonstrate the points under discussion better than other pieces. One should not expect every piece to follow the same model, however. The music would be rendered uninteresting as it would lack an element of surprise. With a little practice the listener of tango will soon pick out the síncopa in every tango and recognize contrasting orchestrations in the repetitions of melodies even if they are not expressed differently as long and short note values.

Nevertheless, one can find again and again pieces that refuse categorization. Musicians, as creatively thinking artists, often seem to prefer disarray over systematic planning. Fresedo's Sueño azul is a piece that appears to lack completely what has been described above. It was recorded two years before Aromas. The full, mellow sound of the strings, the harp, and the voice of Roberto Ray readily suggest that they belong to the same style period. The first impression of the sound quality admits no doubt that the orchestra of Sueño azul is the same one that is performing in the recording of Aromas.

Yet, Sueño azul differs from Aromas in two important points. In the former the orchestration remains the same all throughout the piece: the violins play the melodies continuously “on the string”. Even when they accompany the singer and recede into the background while playing a counter melody to the voice, the articulation remains soft and joined. The contrast between long note values “on the string” and short, “hammered” notes is completely absent. Not even a síncopa can be discerned. The only moment that recalls a síncopa comes at the end of the first phrase in the eighth measure. It is, however, not a síncopa but a triplet.

Is that still tango? By name it is, but it is not Argentinian! The music of Sueño azul was composed by an Hungarian musician, Tibor Barciz, to a French text. The original title was Vous, qu'avez-vous fait de mon amour?. The piece premiered 1933 in Paris in a theater revue by Henri Varna, Vive Paris!. It was a successful composition that was repeatedly recorded by various orchestras for years to come (see versions by René Juyn and the Grand Orchestre Perfectaphone [1933], Tino Rossi and the Orchestre M. Pierre Chagnon [1934] and Jean Lumière [1934] ).

With an Argentinian tango, Vous, qu'avez-vous fait de mon amour? has little in common. It is a strophic song with an underlaid habanera rhythm and a síncopa at the end of the phrase in the eighth measure.

Vous, qu'avez-vous fait de mon amour?, Jean Lumière

It is well known that the habanera rhythm as a repeated bass pattern is the basis of one of the three tango dances, the milonga. Not only that, it also appears occasionally in (Argentinian) tangos. In fact, it was quite common ten or twenty years before the composition of Vous, qu'avez-vous fait de mon amour?. Such tangos were usually labeled “tango milonga” (see Roberto Firpo's El amenecer, Francisco Canaro's Charamusca, or José Padula's Nueve de Julio, for example). From the 1930s on, however, the habanera rhythm in these pieces was hardly played anymore in these pieces. That is, the notated dotted rhythm was “normalized” to straight, “un-dotted” notes in the arrangements. (For example, listen to di Sarli's version of El amenecer.) From an Argentinian perspective of the 1930s, the use of the habanera rhythm in Vous, qu'avez-vous fait de mon amour? seems a bit old-fashioned.

Furthermore, in the Argentinian “tango milonga”, the habanera rhythm was used as a means of stylistic contrast from one section to another, corresponding to the alternating sections of long and short note values discussed above. In the French recordings of Vous, qu'avez-vous fait de mon amour?, however, the habanera rhythm is used continuously throughout the piece, that is, without differentiation from section to section. Such an application of a rhythmical patter it not typical of Argentinian tango, but rather of European dance music. The “Argentinian” stylistic elements in the French recordings are, then, no more than a template.

When Vous, qu'avez-vous fait de mon amour? was published with a Spanish text as Sueño azul in Argentina, the publisher did not simply call it a “tango”, but a “great Hungarian tango”. Since the piece had been very successful in Paris, it does not as a surprise that an Argentinian musician like Fresedo took it into his repertoire. Yet, one wonders why he avoided any musical reference to tango—which, after all, was his métier—and did not arrange it in a more “authentic” (Argentinian) manner.

(© 2017 Wolfgang Freis)

Fresedo, qu'avez-vous fait de mon tango?

Osvaldo Fresedo

(English Version)

Diejenigen, die sich einmal näher mit klassischer Musik auseinandergesetzt haben, werden sich an die Sonatenform erinnern. Sie steht für ein Kompositionsmodell, das typisch und charakteristisch für die Musik der „klassischen“ Periode ist. Bei genauerem Hinsehen kann man sich jedoch nicht des Eindrucks erwehren, dass die Komponisten—besonders die phantasievollen—sich zwar dieses Modells bedienten, aber doch immer wieder zeigen wollten, dass es auch anders ginge und damit das Modell negierten. Und genau darin liegt oft das Interessante dieser Musik, nämlich: dass sie eine Erwartung aufstellt, sie aber nicht erfüllt und mit etwas Unerwartetem und Überraschendem ersetzt.

Was macht einen Tango zum Tango? Um sich nicht ins Uferlosen zu verlieren, präzisieren wir die Frage: Woran erkennt man einen „klassischen“ argentinischen Tango? Mit einer musikalischer Form lässt sich die Frage nicht befriedigend beantworten, denn Tango basiert auf einfachen Gesangsformen, die „universell“ auch in anderen Musikgattungen angewendet werden. Die Frage mit der Instrumentierung, dem orquesta típica, zu beantworten, bringt eine Lösung auch nicht näher, denn Instrumentierung ist nicht mehr als Dekoration, und orquestas típicas (Rodríguez, Carabelli, Canaro, usw.) haben auch ohne weiteres andere Musikgattungen als Tango aufgeführt, die dadurch nicht zu Tangos wurden.

Das Thema ist zu weitläufig, um mit einer einfachen Stellungnahme beantwortet werden zu können. Beschränken wir uns daher auf zwei Aspekte des Tangos, die man als charakteristisch bezeichnen kann, da man sie in fast jedem Tango antrifft. Der erste Aspekt ist eine rhythmische Figur, die síncopa; der zweite ein stilbildendes Prinzip, in dem zusammengehörende Teile durch unterschiedliche Ausführung kontrastiert werden.

Die Síncopa

Eine Synkope ist eine rhythmische Figur, in der eine oder mehrere Noten, die normalerweise auf einem betonten Taktteil erscheinen, auf einem unbetonten angespielt und zum nächsten betontem Taktteil gehalten werden. Synkopen können sich über mehrere Takte erstrecken, aber im Tango gibt es eine charakteristische kurze Figur, die síncopa, die in fast jedem Tango gehört werden kann. (Wir benutzen für diese Figur daher die spanische Bezeichnung síncopa, um auf den speziellen Kontext im Tango hinzuweisen.)

Hier ein Beispiel. Im 2/4 Takt des Tangos könnte eine typische síncopa folgendermaßen notiert werden:

Die Pfeile über dem Notensystem zeigen die betonten Impulse des Taktes an. Daraus ergibt sich, dass die äußeren Noten auf betonte Taktteile fallen, die inneren aber auf unbetonte.

Die Komponisten der guardia vieja der ersten drei Jahrzehnte des 20. Jahrhunderts benutzten die síncopa gerne und bauten manchmal ganze Melodien auf dieser Figur auf. Als Beispiel diene uns das erste melodische Thema aus Roberto Firpos Tango La Bordadora, in dem die síncopa vier Mal erscheint.

La Bordadora (Roberto Firpo): Vereinfachtes rhythmisches Schema des ersten melodischen Themas. Die eckigen Klammern unter den Notensystemen weisen auf die síncopas hin.

Musikalischer Kontrast als stilbildendes Prinzip

Der strukturelle Aufbau eines Tangos bleibt im Rahmen einer einfachen musikalischen Form. Tangos bestehen normalerweise aus drei 16-taktigen Melodien, die in der einen oder anderen Form wiederholt und variiert werden. Das musikalische Interesse eines Stückes liegt in der Ausführung dieser Wiederholungen. Die Orchester der Blütezeit des Tangos haben sich darauf verstanden, die einfachen musikalischen Formen durch Variation im Vortrag und Instrumentierung so zu beleben, dass die Stücke trotz des begrenzten Materials nie monoton wirkten. Abwechslung und Kontrast sind ein stilbildendes Prinzip: Wird eine Melodie oder Teil einer Melodie zuerst auf eine Art gespielt, so wird die Fortsetzung oder Wiederholung auf eine andere Art wiedergegeben.

Abwechslung und Kontrast können sich sehr unterschiedlich ausdrücken: in der Instrumentation (Violinen werden den Bandoneons oder dem Klavier gegenübergestellt), im Tonregister (die Melodie erscheint im hohen Register, dann im tiefen), in der Artikulation oder Phrasierung der Melodie, usw. Die abwechselnde Wiedergabe einer Melodie als lange oder kurze Notenwerte ist, wie die síncopa, eine typische Komponente des Tangos. Ausgeführt von den Violinen heißt „lange Notenwerte“, dass der Bogen auf der Saite bleibt und über den ganzen Notenwert durchgezogen wird. Bei „kurzen Notenwerte“ bleibt der Bogen nicht auf der Saite, sondern schlägt die Töne nur an und wird wieder von der Saite genommen. Das Resultat ist eine unterschiedliche Klangqualität.

Nehmen wir Osvaldo Fresedos Tango Aromas als Beispiel. (Wir beziehen uns hier auf Fresedos Aufnahme mit den Sänger Roberto Ray aus dem Jahre 1939.) Das Stück besteht aus drei 16-taktigen Melodien und ihren Wiederholungen. Jede Melodie besteht ihrerseits aus zwei 8-taktigen Phrasen, die einen Vorder- und einen Nachsatz bilden. Zur Differenzierung der Melodien und ihrer Teile benennen wir sie 1 A und B, 2 A und B, und C 1 und 2.

Thema 1, Teil A wird durchgehend mit langen Notenwerten gespielt, d.h. in den Violinen „auf der Saite“.

Fresedo Aromas, 1 A

Thema 1, Teil B zeigt eine Spiegelsymmetrie in den 8-taktigen Phrasen. Die erste beginnt mit kurzen „gehämmerten“ Noten und endet mit langen „auf der Saite“ gespielt; die zweite beginnt mit langen Noten „auf der Saite“ und endet mit kurz gespielten Noten.

Fresedo Aromas, 1 B

Im Thema 2, Teil A, beginnt die erste Phrase mit kurzen, „gehämmerten“ Noten und endet mit langen Noten „auf der Saite“. Die zweite wiederholt die Instrumentierung der vorangegangenen Phrase.

Fresedo Aromas, 2 A

Im Thema 2, Teil B, wird die erste Phrase ganz mit langen, die zweite ganz mit kurzen Noten gespielt.

Fresedo Aromas, 2 B

Thema 3, Teile A und B, zeigt eine freiere Abwechslung von lang und kurz gespielten Noten. Die Verteilung ist dennoch so gewählt, dass die interne Struktur des Themas klar aufgedrückt wird.

Fresedo Aromas, 3 A

Fresedo Aromas, 3 B

Schematisch lässt sich die Folge von Phrasen ausgeführt als kurze oder lange Notenwerte folgendermaßen darstellen:

Fresedo Aromas, schematische Darstellung der Orchestrierung

Zweierlei zeigt sich an dieser schematischen Darstellung. Erstens: die Orchestrierung folgt der inneren Struktur der Melodien, d.h., dass die Wechsel zwischen Notenwerten „auf der Saite“ oder „gehämmert“ an Schnittpunkten von melodischen Einheiten (bestehend aus zwei, vier, acht oder sechzehn Takten) erfolgen. Die Struktur, die Form des Musikstücks, wird dadurch hörbar gemacht. Zweitens: die Aufteilung innerhalb der 8-taktigen Phrasen zeigt eine architektonische Symmetrie auf. (Dies tritt in den ersten beiden Themen besonders klar hervor.) Dies spricht für Planung und zeigt, dass der Arrangeur den Kontrast zwischen „langen“ und „kurzen“ Notenwerten als Ausdrucksmittel auswerten wollte.

Fresedos Sueño azul

Die oben angeführten Beispiele für stilbildende Elemente im Tango wurden ausgewählt, weil sie das zur Diskussion stehende besser illustrieren als andere Stücke. Man sollte allerdings nicht erwarten, dass jedes Stück dem gleichen Modell folgt, denn sonst wäre die Musik langweilig, da ihr jedes Überraschungselement fehlen würde. Mit ein wenig Übung wird man aber bald die síncopa aus jedem Tango heraushören und in den Wiederholungsschemen der Melodien kontrastierende Instrumentierungen erkennen, selbst wenn sie sich anders ausdrücken als in langen und kurzen Notenwerten.

Trotzdem findet man immer wieder Stücke, die sich gegen eine Kategorisierung sperren. Musiker als kreativ denkende Künstler tendieren wohl eher zum Chaotischem als zum Systematischen. Fresedos Sueño azul ist ein Stück, dem das, was oben als exemplarisch beschrieben wurde, ganz zu fehlen scheint. Es wurde zwei Jahre vor Aromas aufgenommen. Der volle, weiche Streicherklang, die Harfe, der Gesang von Roberto Ray erlauben es aber, beide Stücke in die selbe Stilperiode einzuordnen. Der erste Klangeindruck lässt keinen Zweifel darüber, dass es sich um das gleiche Orchester in der gleichen Besetzung handelt.

Sueño azul unterscheidet sich allerdings von Aromas in zwei entscheidenden Punkten. Die Orchestrierung bleibt für das ganze Stück die gleiche: die Violinen spielen die Melodien durchgehend „auf der Saite“. Selbst während des Gesanges, wenn die sie in den Hintergrund treten und eine Gegenmelodie zu der nun gesungenen Hauptmelodie spielen, bleibt die Artikulation weich und gebunden. Der Kontrast zwischen langen Noten „auf der Saite“ und kurzen „gehämmerten“ Noten fehlt völlig. Selbst eine síncopa ist nicht herauszuhören. Die einzige Stelle, die an eine síncopa erinnert, kommt am Ende der ersten Phrase im achten Takt, aber es ist keine síncopa, sondern eine Triole.

Ist das noch Tango? Dem Namen nach schon, allerdings kein argentinischer! Die Musik von Sueño azul wurde von einem ungarischen Musiker, Tibor Barciz, zu einem französischem Text von komponiert und hieß im Original Vous, qu'avez-vous fait de mon amour?. Das Stück wurde 1933 in Paris in einer Theater-Revue von Henri Varna, Vive Paris!, uraufgeführt. Es war offensichtlich erfolgreich, denn es wurde auch später wiederholt von anderen Orchestern auf Schallplatte eingespielt (siehe die Versionen von René Juyn und dem Grand Orchestre Perfectaphone [1933], Tino Rossi und dem Orchestre M. Pierre Chagnon [1934] und Jean Lumière [1934] ).

Mit einem argentinischen Tango hat Vous, qu'avez-vous fait de mon amour? wenig gemein. Es ist ein strophisches Lied, dem ein fortlaufender Habanera-Rhythmus mit síncopa als Phrasierungsschluss in achten Takt untergelegt wurde.

Vous, qu'avez-vous fait de mon amour?, Jean Lumière

Es ist allgemein bekannt, dass der Habanera-Rhythmus das Fundament für einen der drei Tango-Tänze, der Milonga, bildet. Er kommt aber auch gelegentlich in (argentinischen) Tangos vor. Tatsächlich war er zehn oder zwanzig Jahre vor der Komposition von Vous, qu'avez-vous fait de mon amour? recht beliebt. Solche Tangos wurden üblicherweise als “Tango Milonga” bezeichnet (siehe Roberto Firpos El amenecer, Francisco Canaros Charamusca oder José Padulas Nueve de Julio als Beispiele). Seit den 30er Jahren wird der Habanera-Rhythmus in diesen Stücken allerdings kaum noch gespielt. Das heißt, der punktierte Rhythmus wird “vereinheitlicht” und als gleiche, nicht punktierte Noten gespielt. (Man höre di Sarli's Version von El amenecer zum Vergleich.) Aus argentinischer Sicht scheint der Gebrauch des Habanera-Rhythmus in Vous, qu'avez-vous fait de mon amour? für die 30er Jahre daher ein wenig altmodisch zu sein.

Darüber hinaus wird der Habanera-Rhythmus im argentinischen Tango-Milonga als Mittel zur stilistischen Kontrastierung von Abschnitt zu Abschnitt, entsprechend der oben beschriebenen Abwechslung von langen und kurzen Notenwerten, benutzt. In den französischen Aufnahmen von Vous, qu'avez-vous fait de mon amour? erscheint der Habanera-Rhythmus aber durchgehend ohne Differenzierung von Abschnitt zu Abschnitt. So eine Anwendung eines rhythmischen Schemas ist nicht typisch für argentinischen Tango, sonder eher für europäische Tanzmusik. Die “argentinischen” Stilmittel in den französischen Aufnahmen sind daher nicht mehr als eine Schablone.

Als Vous, qu'avez-vous fait de mon amour? mit einem spanischen Text als Sueño azul in Argentinien veröffentlicht wurde, bezeichnete der Verleger das Stück nicht einfach als „Tango“, sondern als „großen ungarischen Tango“. Da das Stück in Paris erfolgreich war, ist es nicht verwunderlich, dass ein argentinischer Musiker wie Fresedo es in sein Repertoire aufnahm. Man wundert sich allerdings, warum er jeglichen Hinweis auf Tango—sein Metier—vermied und es nicht in einer „authentischen“  (argentinischen) Form wiedergab.



(© 2017 Wolfgang Freis)

From Rags to Riches — An Early History of Tango

Within the half century—the years from 1880 to 1931—that the following article encompasses, tango had undergone a remarkable development. It was a success story of the New World: a poor immigrant making its way from humble circumstances to conquer not only its new homeland, but the world as well. Reason enough for one of the most distinguished journalists of Argentina, Juan José de Soiza Reilly [1880-1959], to take up the subject and portray the rise of tango in his own entertaining style.

The Soul of the tango criollo Across the Half-Century of its Existence

By Juan José de Soiza Reilly, published 1931 in Caras y Caretas, Buenos Aires

Juan José de Soiza Reilly

The Father and Mother of Tango — The Cuban Habanera and the Milonga — The First Tangos — From Corrales Viejos to the Parlors of the Aristocracy — The Persecuted Tango — His Influence on the Spirit of Europe — Tango at the Acedémie Française — A Gold Mine

The Father and Mother of Tango

What a strange history tango has! Acclaimed today, it has suffered punishment, persecution, slander, truism, praises, and contempt. No knight errant of the whimsical times of chivalry could boast to have a history more romantic and moving than tango. Tango has always been a fiction hero. He was poor; but he patiently grew rich—just as the yankee industry kings—by dint of giros, cortes, quebradas, and firuletes... He was born in humble and simple circumstances, secretly like a sinner's offense, behind the walls of houses in the shade: maybe in the old Barrio de las Ranas, or perhaps in Corrales Viejos, under the vigil of some guardian angel. And now it has at its disposal the golden palaces of fortune. Just yesterday, it was in cloth sandals, slouch hat, and shawl around the neck. Today we see it crossing the ocean, formally dressed, groomed with brilliantine, first-class tickets—luxury class—singing in French, Danish, English, and other languages.

--Ah, the culprit!

Tango is the lyric product of a mixture of races (as all countries of the Americas are). Let us recall its history:

One day—more than half a century ago—the habanera set off from Cuba on a ship of blacks bound for Buenos Aires. Here, in the beautiful land of Pastor Luna, its garments of percale, its flair, its melancholy, its finesse, its tropical charm were like a beam of light that illuminated the faces of the suburbs. In the sweet habanera, the compadritos and percantas found a passionate rhythm that touched their soul. Very quickly the pretty mulata associated with her accomplices in Buenos Aires. Together they strolled along the outskirts of the new Babel, swayed through the shanty towns, swung in taverns to the sound of the guitars. But, in spite of its blood, the habanera was an exotic flower. It lacked something to be Argentinian... One night, the musicians mixed—mistakenly, no doubt—the rhythm of the habanera with the typical tune of the land. By chance, the voluptuous charm of Miss Habanera blended with the gloomy sadness of the ruffian Milonga in the strings of a criollo guitar. It was a wedding night. That danceable love begot the Argentinian Tango...

Tango Appears in the Suburbs

The books have not given me a date when tango started tearing up the dance floors of Buenos Aires. The first one to leave a printed record about the existence of tango was a distinguished Argentinian—General Fotheringham—who left proof of his encounter with it in the memoirs. One day, friends of the general took him to a dance hall, somewhere at the end of the world, at Plaza Parque (today Plaza Lavalle) at the corner of Lavalle and Talcahuano. The compadritos danced, for better or for worse, in a locality so densely packed, one could cut it with a knife. They danced to a catchy and solemn music, a mixture of habanera and milonga. “It was Argentinian tango”, added the general.

Many nations claim the honor of having been the homeland of our suburban dance. An able historian of the River Plate theater, Vicente Rossi, affirms that it is Uruguayan, native to Montevideo. I believe that he even names the street in which it was born... Spain, as well, has claimed parental rights based on its name; but the Spanish tango is melodically as different from our tango criollo as the sun from the moon. In order to realize this, it suffices that the reader recall the music of any Andalusian tango. For example, the tango of the choir in “Los viejos ricos” of the revue “La tierra del sol”, which begins:

—Ay, Tomasa! Ay, Tomasa!

The French, likewise, dispute the ownership of our suburban “Homer”. They believe that tango is of French lineage. For a basis of their argument, they turn to the memoirs of Flechier—a book from the second half of the 18th century—that mentions among “bourée” and “goignade” a dance called “tan-gó”: similar, according to Jean Richepin, to Argentinian tango.

The word “tango” is neither of Iberian nor French origin; it is not even from the Congo. The moors adopted it, perhaps, from the Orient and brought it to Spain. The Spanish exported it to France, carried it to America. “Tango” is a Japanese word that denotes one of Japan's five popular feasts called “go sekku” [端午, Tangō].

The First Tangos

The Argentinian tango did not triumph out of nothing. It imposed itself slowly like a pioneer fighting to make room for himself. It lived among cigarette smoke, drunken brawls, suburban loves, the sparkle of bloodthirsty and flesh-starving daggers. It was the august monarch of the dance halls. It was loved for being sad, sullen, in love, a scoundrel, a poet. It was a poet! The most tragic hearts were palpitating with music wherever it was present. In its arms many women, born for pain, heard the only true words of tenderness that fate ever spoke to them... Tango strolled around, encircling the city. From Corrales Viejos it rushed to La Boca del Riachuelo, where it ate savory pastries. On foot, it came along the Paseo de Colón to Carpas de la Recoleta, intoxicating the servant girls with its roguish charm and peach liqueur. Later, it was seen in the dark forest of Palermo at the famous “Hansen's Restaurant” drinking champagne, rubbing shoulders with the upper class kids of those days, without trimming its mane, without taking the handkerchief off the neck, stomping the heels heavily, giving a sidelong glance from below the slouch hat with a broad rim and a high crown. There it was discovered by Taurel, the lame. Alfredo Wells, one of the first composers to dress tango in new harmonies and exquisite beauties, undoubtedly met it there. Wells improvised its music at home, in the club, in the streetcar; at first whistling it and then, at night, making the most of it at the piano. Wells died leaving no other trace than the deep imprint of his heart, in memory of which we enjoy his crystalline music and his noble friendship. Another friend of tango who decided to dress it in a new suit was Miguelito Tornquist. His tangos did not become popular since he used to write them only for the violin. After that appeared the composers of greater popular prestige: Rosendo, the composer of “El Enterriano”; Greco, the  composer of “Rodríguez Peña”; Saborido, still alive, the composer of “La Morocha”; Villoldo, composer of “El Choclo”; José Luis Padula, composer of “9 de Julio”; Ernesto Ponzio, composer of “Don Juan”; Eduardo Arolas, composer of “Caburé” and the first ambassador of tango to the Bohemian quarters of Paris; and so many more, such as: Arturo de Nava, Bevilacqua, Posadas, etc. 

Tango musicians at a local café.

The Persecuted Tango

On earth, one cannot triumph with impunity. As tango was changing apparel, culture fought a ferocious war against it. But tango, being criollo, knew how to be very clever. From the suburbs it crossed to the streets of the center... It came slowly, attracted by lights and drinks of the Paseo de Julio, Calle Corrientes, and the horrible 25 de Mayo... In the beginning, it was content with performing in the dance halls as the “La France”, where every dancer paid 10 centavos for every dance. Right after that it moved up to the stage. There, Pablo and the attractive Hebe Podestá made it pirouette across the boards. Later it was introduced in the social family gatherings of Saturday night; and in the Relief Societies under watchfulness of the gentlemen of the committee, who called out: “Let light shine through!” when they noticed a coupled dancing too closely connected.

As soon as tango was wearing lacquer half boots, it embarked for Europe. There they welcomed it with stones in their hands. The Pontifex Maximus issued an encyclical condemning it to the fire. It was too late already. Tango was infiltrating the blood of the youth—not by being tango but because tango is, in a nutshell, youth itself that makes one dance. The crown prince of Germany fell in love with tango. His infuriated father decreed officially that tango was an offense as vile as slaying one's peer. The ambassador of Argentina to France, the great “Don Ramiro”—Enrique Larreta—gave a dance in the palace of his legation. Various illustrious ladies of the old nobility expressed their wish to see typical tango dance, the tango of the suburbs, without schooling, without doctors, without “head waiter”... An exciting criollita and dashing criollo danced the authentic dance in front of duchesses, marchionesses, countesses, the princesses of the St. Michel quarter... All applauded abundantly. The next day, “La Prensa” and “La Nación” published telegrams announcing that the tango of the homeland had been danced at the embassy in Paris.

—”The horror!”

The chancellor sent a telegraph to the legation and asked for an explanation. Was it true? A scandal...

—It is true—responded the great artist proudly.

—The blue blood of France gave a standing ovation to the tango of the Argentinian Republic...

Indeed, all of France was rocking sweetly, being swayed by tango. All of Europe felt intoxicated by its melancholy. Suddenly the First World War broke out in 1914. Guillermo Ferrero said in “Le Figaro”:

—Tango was to blame for the war.

Poor tango! It was glorious without knowing it. The rascal from the underworld had entered the spheres of diplomacy.

Tango in Paris

What fault is it of tango if its sinful graces  seduced the world? Admirable fate! Tango, son of the habanera and milonga, born in cloth sandals, became suddenly the axis of a great global catastrophe. While its fame spread across the world, the cultured people in its own country (oh, prophet!) detested it.

—A tango! What a disgrace!

Some compatriots, like the illustrious Carlos Ibarguren [1877-1956, Argentinian historian], spoke rationally about the advantage of replacing tango with other criollo dances. “These indigenous dances”, Ibarguren wrote in “La música popular”, “have not been heard of abroad. Instead, an illegitimate product that has neither a native aroma nor the natural grace of the land, but the sensuous cut of the slums has spread all over the world: the tango... Tango is not properly Argentine; it is a hybrid or mongrel, born in the suburbs, and it consists of a mixture of the tropical habanera and a falsified milonga”.

Many prudish people discovered that even the name was unseemly. To them, it sounded like a bad word that could sully the lips of children with impropriety. Meanwhile in Paris, Jean Richepin, a celebrated academician, submitted for deliberation an erudite work on the subject to the Academie Française. Moreover, the very Richepin gave a comedy at the theater, “Tango”, in which two illustrious dancers, Mlle. Lavallière and Mlle. Spinelly, had to exhibit on stage the true milonguero dance. In relation to the premiere of Richepin's work, Gómez Carillo reported an anecdote that illustrates the innocence of tango and the difficulties of interpretation that our suburban dance presents to the best dancers: “The night of the premiere of the work, various spectators observed that the dance the two pretty Parisians performed was actually not a tango. Questioned by 'Le Matin', Mlle. Cavallière responded:

“—It is true; we are dancing a kind of maxixe. Tango is too difficult to learn. Also, it is not sensuous enough for us.”

Recently, a music competition was held in Paris. The jury had to elect the most beautiful piece among more than a hundred tangos. The Countess of Noailles chose “Adios, muchachos” by Sanders.

Authors [Composers and Poets] and Performers

In this dispute against tango, the poets, champions of the poor, took the side of tango. Miguel Andrés Camino [1877-1944] sketched in beautiful criollo verses the history of its music:

He was born in Corrales Viejos,

back then in the year of '80.

Son he was of the milonga

and a brute from the suburbs.

As godparent stood the bugle

of the tram conductor, 

and the knife duels 

taught him to dance …

New composers of tangos for dancing and singing appeared and injected new life into the music of the country. The reproduction on records and with orchestras, at the theater and through radio increased its income. Currently, there are 920 composers of Argentine tango. They have formed a powerful association presided actively by [Arturo] Rodríguez Bustamante. In order to appreciate the importance that criollo music has attained it will suffice to say the the annual collection of royalties exceeds $160,000. There are authors who have become rich through tango. The fortune of Roberto Firpo comprises already several hundered thousands pesos. The fortune of Canaro, composer of “Cara sucia”, “El Chamuyo”, etc., is estimated to be one million pesos.

In tail coat and patent-leather shoes: the internationally successful tango musician (Julio De Caro)

Tango evolves alongside the “ranchera”. It follows a tendency of a classical nature. What a difference between current tangos and those humble, modest, and transparent “tanguitos” that “El Chino” Rosendo [Cayetano Mendizábal (1868-1913)] and “The Thrush” [José Luis] Bettinotti [1878-1915] improvised to the music of their guitars! And what difference between the purity of the criollo song “El carretero” by Arturo de Nava [1876-1932], master of all tango masters, whose inspiration we see shining through against the light in modern tangos.

The performers have also contributed to the universal triumph of the típica music: Azucena Maizani, Sofía Bozán, Carlitos Gardel... The latter continues to be the accredited minister of tango in Europe. He has made a fortune various times. He lives like a king in Paris, being a close friend to the greatest men in art, banking, sports, and politics. Actually, Carlos Gardel embodies the authentic spirit of the suburban tango. Many believe that he was born in Argentina. Gardel was born in France; they brought him to Buenos Aires when he was very little. Here he grew up in La Crucecita and in Corrientes Street (the theater district), where his mother a modest shop as a presser.  Arturo de Nava knew him as a youngster in the slums. Once, he asked him:

— Hey, kid! What would you like to be when you grow up. 

— A thief or rich! — responded the youth.

(Tango made him rich. The history of Gardel is the history tango...)

© 2017 Translation and Commentary Wolfgang Freis