Off the Beaten Track: The Voice of the Tango—Bandoneón

Our guest today is, Annamaria Alfieri, the author of Blood Tango, which takes place in Buenos Aires in 1945 and imagines the murder of an Evita Perón lookalike.  Kirkus Reviews said of her Invisible Country, “Alfieri has written an anti-war mystery that compares with the notable novels of Charles Todd.”  Deadly Pleasures Magazine called her City of Silver one of the best first novels of the year.  The Washington Post said, “As both history and mystery, City of Silver glitters.”     A world traveler, Annamaria takes a keen interest in the history of the places she visits.  She lives in New York City. You can learn more about Annamaria and her work at her website www.annamariaalfieri.com

Research sparks my creativity as does nothing else.  In studying up for my new book Blood Tango, I learned about some wonderfully interesting people, places, and things.  Like the endlessly fascinating Evita, Buenos Aires—a city both exotic and familiar, and tango, both the music and the dance.  Since I put a lot of romance in my historical mystery novels, tango cried out to be an important part of the story.  I had in mind a couple falling in love while dancing.

One can’t get very far into learning about the dance without studying the music.  And as soon as you start listening to tango music, you hear the bandoneón, an instrument that literally breathes before it sings.  The details of the journey it took from Germany, where it was invented, to the waterfront boites of Buenos Aires are not well documented, but we do know it was born for the Church and ended up in the hands of desperate men who used it to entertain people of the night.

Its inventor Heinrich Band (1821-1860), called it bandonion and intended it to take the place of an organ in poor churches that could not afford the real article. There is no readily available information about the bandoneón's eventual use in religious establishments. What we do know is that German sailors and Italian seasonal workers and immigrants brought the first ones to Buenos Aires at the end of the 19th century.  Bandoneón arrived just as working class newcomers in the sailor’s bars were evolving a fabulous new music and dance art form: the tango. When bandoneóns came on the scene, they changed forever how tango music would sound.

Cousin to the concertina, the bandoneón has buttons—not the typical piano keyboard of an accordion.  This instrument is what makes that wonderful almost-human breathing, gasping, and sighing sound that gives passion to tango music. It is central for tango ensembles, which can also have a piano, often a violin, a guitar maybe or a bass.

It seems a tricky instrument to play. The musicians pull the bellows apart and squeeze them together. The buttons on the ends change the notes, and here's what knocks me out—the buttons play different notes depending on whether the player is pulling the bandoneón apart or pushing it closed.  On top of that, the layout of buttons is different for the right and left hands.  The first instruments were constantly being changed and most of the early versions have different numbers of buttons in different positions on the face plates. In 1924, the number and positions of the buttons were standardized to include 72 buttons that cover a five octave range.   As you can imagine, it takes a lot of concentration, coordination, and talent to master it.

Astor Piazzolla

The most famous recent bandoneón maestro was also the great composer, Astor Piazzolla. Here is a lovely little film of one of his compositions in a performance that brings the bandoneón back to its intended locale—a church. The elegant scene is the wedding in Amsterdam in 2002 of then Prinz (now King) Willem Alexander of the Netherlands to Máxima Zorreguieta Cerruti, an Argentine woman of Basque, Portuguese and Italian ancestry. The name of the piece is "Adios Nonino," which given the Italianized Spanish of Buenos Aires, I make out to mean, "Goodbye, Little Grandfather." That may account for the beautiful bride's emotional reaction. Then again, the plaintive voice of the bandoneón could easily have moved her to those tears.

Passion on a Plate - Te Mataré Ramirez

Photo by Arte & Fotografía as SABRINA Y HECTOR

By Alli Sinclair

Buenos Aires is a city that simmers with passion. The cobblestoned streets are jam-packed with men and women who look like they’ve escaped from a Parisian catwalk, and with tango dancers strutting to passionate music played in the plazas. Sexiness is in the genes of the Argentines, and over the past two decades they’ve taken it to a new level with the aphrodisiac restaurant, Te Mataré Ramirez.

The name of the restaurant translates to “I’ll Kill You Ramirez” and no doubt there’s a good story about cheating lovers who earned it that name. Designed for the over-18 set, this restaurant is dimly lit and clad in red velvet, as soft jazz plays throughout the dining room. There’s the “Open Mind” bar and I’m not quite sure if there’s a wedding ring check-in at the door.

Couples at various stages of their relatioonships canoodle in corners and sip champagne or else indulge in the sensual delicacies the restaurant offers. The names of the dishes alone are worth a visit. Here are some examples from the dessert menu:

Amantes Que Se Comparten (Lovers Who Share)

Hasta Gritar De Placer Y Dolor (Until I Scream with Pleasure and Pain)

No samplers, as far as I know.

These are by far the most tame because reading the menu is akin to thumbing through the pages of an erotica novel.

The food itself deserves the sensuous titles it’s been given. Melt-in-your-mouth salmon, salads with fresh herb dressings, and chocolate sauces that really do make your taste buds want to scream with pleasure. Nothing here is rushed, and diners are encouraged to take their time and soak up the atmosphere and bask in the company of whomever they are sharing their meal with.

Te Mataré Ramirez offers a show each night, and depending on when you go, it may be actors boasting about their conquests, dancers performing sensuous moves to haunting music, or a movie you definitely wouldn’t want your grandmother to see. All of this is done tastefully; nothing seedy about the place. The waiters are excellent at being discreet but are around when you require their services. Not those kinds of services, mind you. Get your mind out of the gutter!

Te Mataré Ramirez is one of the most unique restaurants I’ve encountered, and the quality of the food alone means this place merits a visit. The atmosphere, although not to everyone’s taste, will certainly be remembered for years by anyone who dines there. This is a restaurant that promises to give its patrons an experience of the senses, and there’s no doubt, it lives up to it’s promise.

Off the Beaten Track: Sean McGee

This week, we welcome Sean McGee a professional musician and composer. He now specialises in tango music, a stark contrast to his early days as a long-haired, heavy metal band member. Sean’s music can be found at http://www.seanmcgeemusic.com.

I am a musician. As a composer, I have worked for independent film and TV projects and until a short time ago, I was also the long-haired 'Extreme Metal' lead guitarist with a successful British band, Thirteenth Sign.

A few years ago, I decided to switch on the BBC's TV show Strictly Come Dancing. It just so happened that the show that night featured an Argentine Tango demonstration by Vincent Simone & Flavia Cacace.

Wow! I was mesmerised. The dancers... The music...

I was so excited by the sheer connection of soul and heart that tango could bring, I questioned my whole involvement and reasons for working within the heavy-metal scene. There was a real honesty and beauty in the music and dance that I didn't get when I played heavy metal every week.

And as I'd already worked with film I understood how a connection with music and emotion worked.
Dance was a new and exciting world to me, and I wanted in.

So I quit the band!

I managed to track down a local Argentine Tango class, and myself and my fiancée, Linzi, tripped along as soon as we could. From the very first bar of music and basic steps, we were hooked.

I was drawn to this exciting music, especially the Electro Tango. I’ve since become a big fan of bands such as Gotan Project, Baja Fondo, and Tanghetto. That was nearly two years ago, and we’re still continuing regular classes and milongas (tango dances) and are now taking International Dance Teachers Association medals.

But this is only the beginning of my story...

In February last year, I booked tickets to see my dance idols, Vincent and Flavia, in a local show at St Ives, Cambridgeshire. I was fortunate enough to have a brief word with them after the show. I was feeling cheeky, so I asked them if anyone had ever written music specifically for them. I’d been toying with the idea of writing original music alongside new choreography, and I was keen to gauge their interest.

They were very interested, but because they were so tied up with Strictly Come Dancing, they suggested I contact them in the not-so-distant future. When Flavia asked me, “Where were you three years ago?” I was floored and a little disappointed. They’d been looking for someone to write music for them but couldn’t find anyone that suited. Yet here I was, desperate to work with them. Flavia’s question inspired me to write my first Electro Tango track, “Three Years Too Late”.

Flavia, Sean and Vincent

I took the tune to my dance class, and we all danced through it together. I was surprised with the sheer excitement from the whole class and my dance instructors. People kept coming up to me and saying, "You must do an album!" I knew they were right, but I needed to raise funds. So I sold some of my heavy metal band equipment, and I invested in some new equipment that would allow me to produce the best Electro Tango album I could. I wrote solidly for four months, and by the summer of 2010, I’d completed the album. Nebulosa was born!

I contacted Vincent and Flavia when I started on the artwork for the album. After all, they’d been my inspiration, and I was hoping they might give me a brief testimonial for the cover. Several weeks passed without word, then the Thursday before I was due to send the album off for pressing, I got the email that changed my life—Vincent and Flavia absolutely loved my music!

Heavy metal days

In fact, they loved it so much, they wanted to join forces with me and appear on my album cover. They wanted to sell it through their website and market the CD in the media with their blessing. I couldn’t believe that my idols believed in me and loved my work!

The CD, Nebulosa, was released in September last year, and by Christmas sales had covered all the production costs. We’ve sold many copies in the U.K., as well as to the USA and Australia. Word got around, and I received an invitation to perform with a band at the London River Tango Festival. The local BBC stations, as well as independent radio stations and national press, have all run features on Nebulosa, and the interest continues to grow.

I’m in the process of writing the “difficult” second album, but I have to say, the tango is still flowing through my veins. Flavia named the first completed track Pensiero (Italian for thought), and I’m currently looking for a record company to work with. I plan to complete the new album and put together a line up of top musicians to take the “UK Electro Tango” on the road.

Sean and Flavia

My time as a heavy-metal musician feels like a lifetime ago, and my journey as a tango dancer and musician is only just beginning. I can’t wait to see what’s around the corner.

My facebook is: http://www.facebook.com/seanamcgee

My Twitter is: @SeanAMcGee

Vincent & Flavia website: http://www.vincentandflavia.co.uk

Strictly Come Dancing website: http://www.bbc.co.uk/strictlycomedancing/

Thirteenth Sign website: http://www.thirteenthsign.co.uk

The BBC website also ran this story on me: http://news.bbc.co.uk/local/norfolk/hi/tv_and_radio/newsid_9020000/9020652.stm

One Step at a Time

For more than a century, Argentina and Uruguay have butted heads about where the first tango steps were taken. They’ve also spent many decades arguing about the birthplace of Carlos Gardel, one of tango’s greatest crooners. But in 2009, the two countries kicked aside their differences and joined forces to persuade UNESCO to list the tango as an Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity. Tango lovers around the world celebrated, happy their beloved dance and music will forever be protected. This massive achievement is especially impressive for a little dance that had some very dodgy beginnings.

The first time I saw tango dancers was in the quaint neighborhood of San Telmo, Buenos Aires. On a cobblestoned plaza, amongst a crowded antique bazaar, a woman in a sequined dress and gentleman in a designer suit danced with an intensity and passion that captured the onlookers, including me. That was the moment I fell in love with the tango, and I’ve been fascinated with its history ever since. 

Back in the 1800s, Argentina and Uruguay opened its doors to immigrants. They came from Africa, Spain, Italy, England, Wales, Poland, and Russia and each brought their own music and dances. Eventually, the African rhythms mixed with the South American milonga music (a fast-paced polka) and new steps were invented. This was the first foray into tango.

Most immigrants were single men hoping to make a fortune in their new country. Destitute and desperate, they gravitated toward each other in the brothels and port-side bars, wallowing in their sorrow and longing for the people and places they’d left behind. This remorse and mourning is the basis of most tango lyrics. I advise you not to listen too closely unless you’re ready for a good cry or want to spiral into a pit of depression.

As tango was initially danced by people who couldn’t read or write, there is no documentation backing the tango’s history. Of course, people are happy to give their own version of events, even though they happened over a century ago. It is well known that men first danced the tango together, but no one knows exactly why. Some historians say it’s because the men got bored waiting for their turn in the brothels. Others say men practiced their steps so they could woo the woman of their dreams through dance. I have my own idea, but that’s a whole other post I promise to write at a later date. Or maybe you’ll have to wait until I finish writing my tango mystery novel.

Argentine and Uruguayan high society looked down their noses at those dwelling in the brothels, even though their well-to-do sons were not averse to slumming it every now and again. Word of the tango spread, and by the beginning of the twentieth century, the tango became popular with everyone apart from the elite.

The wealthy sons traveled to Paris and introduced the tango to Parisian high society, which embraced the risque moves. The year 1913 saw the tango become an international phenomenon in England, France, and the United States, although the dance had been modified slightly. The “ballroom tango” had less body contact, though many were still shocked by the obvious passion compared with the tame waltz. High society Argentines and Uruguayans, who had rejected this dance and music, were now forced to accept it with national pride and gathered to dance in ostentatious dance halls, complete with crystal chandeliers.

In 1926, the Italian-born Rudolph Valentino starred in The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. He performed the tango in wide trousers and leather chaps (as worn by a gaucho—an Argentine cowboy) and had a carnation in his mouth and whip in his hand. This visual brought the Argentine tango to the attention of the cinema-going public, despite the fact that gauchos didn’t dance the tango. Probably the most famous tango scene ever on film, Valentino’s performance cemented the Hollywood future for all tango stars at the time to wear gaucho attire. 

By the 1930s, Argentina was one of the world’s ten richest nations and the arts flourished. Carlos Gardel, one of tango’s most famous singers, made his mark in Hollywood until he was tragically killed in an air crash in Colombia in 1935. His legend still lives on, with millions of his recordings and paraphernalia sold the world over. 

Carlos Gardel

The 1950s saw Argentina’s economic situation take a dive. The country was in political turmoil with military dictatorships banning large gatherings. The tango went underground but still managed to survive. Small, unpublicized venues were frequented by the people, reflecting the drive and passion behind the music and the dance. 

With the advent of rock and roll, the tango declined even further until the mid-1980s when a stage show, Tango Argentino, hit the stages of Paris. Once again, France became the springboard for the tango’s worldwide popularity. 

In last week’s blog (here), I mentioned the amazing talents of Astor Piazzolla, a man who has mastered the art of tango’s main instrument, the bandoneón. Born in 1921, he spent decades paving the way for Tango Nuevo, a style of tango that incorporates jazz and classical music. Piazzolla wrote 3,000 songs and recorded around 500, and even though he died in 1992, his death is still mourned by tango lovers around the world. 

Tango today is changing again. The Argentine and Uruguayan youth that once thought of it as a fuddy-duddy dance now embrace it. Musicians are mixing the old with the new, dancers are creating more complicated steps, and the two countries are uniting over a shared passion for a dance with a very colorful history. 

I’ll never play a bandoneón like Piazzolla, sing like Gardel, or be a cast member of Tango Argentino, but what I can do is appreciate the skill and dedication it takes to create a style of music and dance that tells stories of love and heartache. In a way, the tango is a reflection of the turbulent history of Argentina and Uruguay. 

And for your viewing pleasure, I present a couple of brothers who can not only dance, but will make you laugh; Rudolph Valentino at his finest; and a couple of dancers who will amaze you. Enjoy!

The Last Dance

Photo by Pavel Krok

Whenever I hear tango music I conjure up visions of dapper men in sharp suits, hats tilted to the side, wooing women in fishnet stockings and low-cut dresses clinging to sensuous curves. The couple sway to the rhythm of the music, a soulful bandoneón dictating their every move. Most onlookers focus on the dancers, barely giving the orchestra a second glance. But if you can take your eyes off the Tango dancers for long enough and concentrate on a bandoneón player, you’ll notice the passion that pours from his soul and into the instrument. There is an undying love and obvious connection between the player and his bandoneón, not unlike Tango dancers and their partners. Unfortunately, the bandoneón is under threat of extinction and without it, Tango music as we know it will change forever.

Today there are only two bandoneón repair shops in the world, both in Buenos Aires. Originally made in Germany in the 1800’s, the bandonion (as it was called in Germany) was used for religious music in German churches. In the 1850’s the German and Italian sailors and emigrants brought the instrument to the shores of Argentina. They incorporated the bandoneón into a new music and dance that started in the brothels of Buenos Aires—the Tango.

Thousands of the instruments were sent to Argentina from Germany, but production stopped when the manufacturer closed down during World War II. These days only a handful of the original instruments remain, there are no spare parts and their legacy relies heavily on the craftspeople continuing a century old tradition.

Even though the bandoneón may look like it’s related to an accordion to the untrained eye, they come from completely different families. The bandoneón is part of the concertina family and doesn’t have the piano-like keys found on an accordion. Instead, a bandoneón has buttons on both sides of the instrument and has two-voice notes--when a note is pressed, another one plays at the same time. There are over 70 buttons on the bandoneón, giving the instrument a diverse range and adds a richness and depth to the music that is recognised worldwide as an integral part of the Tango. 

With the resurgence of Tango over the last decade, Tango musicians and collectors bought up the bandoneón’s and would pay up to U.S.$7,000 per piece. But the Argentine government recently passed a law that prohibits anyone other than an Argentina musician on tour, from taking an original bandoneón out of the country.

Argentina has produced new versions of bandoneón’s, but according to Tango aficionados, the sound is less authentic and doesn’t have the soul of the originals. One of the reasons it is lacking the original sound is because the German-made bandoneón’s had their wood aged for ten to fifteen years before being hand-made into an instrument.

With the originals dying out, the sound of Tango will change. The love and care this instrument has received over the years is not enough to keep them alive forever. Even with the proper care, it is expected the originals may only last for another fifty years. Let’s hope someone can find an answer to this problem and save the world from the loss of something that is as Argentine as the Tango.

And of course, I need to share some music with you by one of Tango’s greatest, Astor Piazzolla:

Next week I’ll be covering some interesting developments in the world of Tango and UNESCO.