1725  Notes from Buenos Aires 24

Date: Mon, 18 Aug 2003 13:12:59 -0500
From: Rick McGarrey <RICKMCG@FLASH.NET>
Subject: Notes from Buenos Aires 24

(Part 2, continued from #23)

I've been in a bit of a tango slump since Iguazu, but
I was having a great time with Carlitos, and El
Gallego. Every so often I just go off, and this time
I blamed it on the DJ. He played Hector Maure
('Amarras'), then some great Canaro, followed it with
a vals tanda, and then when I was soaked in sweat and
ready to sit, he put on Rodriguez. I hadn't heard any
Rodriguez for awhile, and sometimes his music just
makes me crazy. Have you ever seen the old black and
white TV tapes of D'Arienzo in front of his band? He
hunches, jumps, laughs demonically, makes faces, and
just goes nuts... he makes Mick Jagger look like
Prince Charles with a stick up his butt. He hovers
over the front row of bandoneon players like a mad
elf, and you can tell he's embarrassing them. The band
kind of grins, and looks at each other. 'There he
goes again. Why can't he settle down?' I mentioned
Mick Jagger, but there is a difference, because Mick
is trying hard to look cool- but D'Arienzo is being a
fool, and he just can't help it. He looks completely
goofy. He knows how he's acting, but he's so drunk on
his own rhythms and clowning around that there's
nothing else he can do. He is shaking like a dog to
the vibrations of his own music. I've heard people
apologize for his behavior, and try to explain it
away, but this is wrong, wrong, wrong! D'Arienzo is
who he is. He loves what he has created, and he
doesn't care who knows it. He's the man who put the
fire back in tango and filled up the dance halls, so I
will accept no criticism of his behavior.

Nor of my own. If D'Arienzo can do it, so can I. I
told Alejandra that if all these guys like 'El
Gallego' and 'El Gitano' and 'Lolo' have nicknames, I
want one too. I'm trying out 'El Virrey del Compas'.
If you see me at a milonga you can call me that if you
want. 'Virrey' for short. So, when Rodriquez came
on, I just lost it. When the set was over, I was
dripping sweat, the center of the floor where we were
dancing was more or less vacated, and I noticed
several people looking at me with their mouths open.
So what? I paid my $5p.

After we sat, I began to kid El Gallego because he
always remained so cool on the dance floor in his
perfect suit (like Fred Astaire!), and we got into a
discussion about it. Gilda, who I like a lot, took my
side, and said you need to have passion, and that I
sometimes loose control because she can tell the music
gets so strong for me. Later, El Gallego sat down and
I noticed some sweat on his brow, so I got some
napkins to wipe it off and tried to straighten his
tie, which Gilda thought was great. It was a fun
night. Jorge and Gilda invited us to their house for
dinner, and Jorge says he wants to show me how to
dance milonga. After, Alejandra said it was the most
fun she's had dancing in a long time- and that's what
counts with me.

'Amarras'

There are a hundred great tangos, so I don't want to
promote one over the other. But you have to start
somewhere, so here is the one that grabbed me
emotionally and started me on the road to ruin at
Glorias Argentinas Saturday night. It is sung by my
man Hector Maure (D'Arienzo Orq.) and it's
called 'Amarras'. Maure has a strong clear voice, and
he seems like he would have been fun to spend time
with. He used to box, and he was friends with Pascual
Perez, the Argentine boxing champion.

Here's a tip: A good way to identify music and
orchestras is to begin with the singers. People like
Castillo and Maure have voices that are very easy to
identify. Castillo whines out of the side of his
mouth in 'arrabalero', and Maure sounds like a barrel
chested boxer. When you hear them, it's likely you
have Tanturi and D'Arienzo. And Vargas has a very
polished voice that can also help you identify
D'Agostino.

'Amarras' is a very 'porteno' song, and for me it
contains everything a tango song should contain- it's
about the sadness of a working man as he walks in the
shade of a 'recova', thinking of his life and lost
love. The man in the song reminds me a little of my
friend Nestor, the poet / dockworker / milonguero.
Nestor almost died from pneumonia last year. He was
trapped in the hospital, and when he thought he
wouldn't make it, he looked out the window and saw
wild birds. It occurred to him that caged birds must
feel the same way he felt, looking out at
unattainable freedom. So he wrote a poem to the
birds, and since his recovery he feeds them every day.

A 'recova' is a place where the buildings go out over
the sidewalk, like a porch. There is one over the
sidewalk in front of the Viscount Ballroom in
Portland. When I see old metal roofs and houses in
BsAs I think of 'Faro', and when I walk in the shade
of a recova I think of this song, 'Amarras'. The man
singing is a marinero who has a small boat that he
uses to haul charcoal on the river to the cooking
fires of BsAs, and the title 'Amarras' refers to the
lines he uses to tie up his boat:

I wander in the shade of the recova,
A tormented shadow,
And I remember myself. I am nothing.
I am like my 'barco carbonero',
I am tied to the dock.

He goes on to sing about being tied to a lost love he
can't get over, and how the past is an anchor tying
him down. The poetry and the music are beautiful, and
the song is filled with feelings of regret and missed
opportunity. Well, tango isn't necessarily supposed
to be happy. Like life, it can be sad and fun at the
same time.

End