Sunday, June 5, 2011

Tango show!

Recently, I decided I couldn't leave Buenos Aires without seeing a Tango Show. I opted for the most authentic one I could, since many of them are giant, glitzy, Vegas-like affairs that don't interest me.

This one took place in the basement theater of the Cafe Tortoni - one of the opulent old Confiterias of turn of the century Buenos Aires. Here are some pictures of the cafe itself...




Turning to the tango show, let me give a little context about the dance itself. Tango was developed in a poor, immigrant neighborhood of Buenos Aires called La Boca. This is the port district where the dockworkers lived, and tango was a dance that prostitutes did with their prospective clients. The show was pretty upfront about this, as you can see...



As you would imagine of music born in the brothels, tango is quite melancholy - it's often compared to the Blues in the US. In fact, the lyrics sometimes express such a deeply cynical view of life that they will make your hair curl. Here's a famous example - a tango called Aquaforte - first in English translation and then in Castellano.

It's midnight. The cabaret's wakin' up.
A lot of women, flowers, and champagne
The eternal sad party of those who live
to the beat of a tango is about to begin.
I'm chained by forty years of life,
with a grey-haired head and an old heart:
Today I can watch with a lot of sorrow
what at other times I saw through rose-colored glasses.

The poor taxi dancers,
Stupified by kisses,
Stare at me, as if strangers,
With curiosity.
They don't recognize me anymore.
I'm lonely and old.
There's no light in my eyes ...
Life is getting shorter.

An old rake that spends his money
Getting Lulu' drunk with his champagne
Today he denied a raise to a poor worker
Who asked him for one more piece of bread.
That poor woman who sells flowers
who was the queen of Montmartre in my time, 
Offers me, with a smile, some violets,
Maybe to make my loneliness less blue.

And I think about life:
mothers that suffer,
children that roam
with neither bread nor a roof,
selling newspapers,
for two cents ...
How sad it all is!
I feel like cryin'!

Es medianoche. El cabaret despierta.
Muchas mujeres, flores y champán.
Va a comenzar la eterna y triste fiesta
De los que viven al ritmo de un gotán.
Cuarenta años de vida me encadenan,
Blanca la testa, viejo el corazón:
Hoy puedo ya mirar con mucha pena
Lo que otros tiempos miré con ilusión.

Las pobres milongas,
Dopadas de besos,
Me miran extrañas,
Con curiosidad.
Ya no me conocen:
Estoy solo y viejo,
No hay luz en mis ojos...
La vida se va...

Un viejo verde que gasta su dinero
Emborrachando a Lulú con su champán
Hoy le negó el aumento a un pobre obrero
Que le pidió un pedazo más de pan.
Aquella pobre mujer que vende flores
Y fue en mi tiempo la reina de Montmartre
Me ofrece, con sonrisa, unas violetas
Para que alegren, tal vez, mi soledad.

Y pienso en la vida:
Las madres que sufren,
Los hijos que vagan
Sin techo ni pan,
Vendiendo “La Prensa”,
Ganando dos guitas...
Que triste es todo esto!
Quisiera llorar!

As they say, "tango is a sad thought that is danced" ("El tango es un pensamiento triste que hasta se puede bailar"). If you ask Argentinians whether they like tango, some of them will invariably say "no, it's way too depressing! I like rock!"

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