Tango Time Machine — Tango Decoder

"Julio De Caro Composed His First Tango in 1915"

From "Cantando" weekly, 1945. Translation by Tango Decoder. Photo from the Tango Time Machine archives. At the bottom of the page, the De Caro orchestra is seen in a clip from "Luces De Buenos Aires."

By Vicente Demarco

Four men in a continuous line set the life of the tango, its soul and its popular expression, on its far-flung travels: Arolas, Cobián, De Caro, and Fresedo.

Tango was the music of the people, of our people, and it had to triumph. Fresedo and Cobián in North America, and Arolas and De Caro in Europe (without forgetting Canaro, Bianco and Pizarro), were the agents of this indisputable and irrepressible international triumph.

1915: Students of the Colegio Nacional Moreno rehearse their manly steps on the pista of the dance hall "A. B. I." "Labey", but they take pride in "what is going to happen" to one of them: Julio De Caro. They insist and... Julio plays "La Cumparsita" in the orchestra of Roberto Firpo, with emotion that belongs to his memory, to his world of memories.

AROLAS, who is a visitor to the place, approaches and asks him to be the first violin of his orchestra that's going to debut at the "Botafogo"...!

With FRESEDO in 1917, he forms part of the unforgettable quartet with Juan Carlos Cobián and Tito Rocatagliatta...

HIS OWN ORCHESTRA: In 1922, with his brothers Francisco (piano) Emilio (violin) and Luis Petrucelli and Pedro Maffia on bandoneones. Ah! If only memory could give us the chance to feel the emotion locked in the tangos produced by that quintet!

70 MUSICIANS formed the giant orchestra that enlivened the dances of the Teatro San Martín in 1924, when Julio De Caro, with his diminutive form and his clear eyes that communicated decisiveness, and his soul hidden in the accompanying violin, faces the public and his own fate.

He is recognized by the Buenos Aires music scene, and this signifies his future and his popular recognition.

Buenos Aires is excited by the foreign music that comes from France, and from North America, and Julio De Caro appears to counterbalance the success of the foreign and to demonstrate the dignity possible in our music... Julio loves tango and loves his people, who he defines and defends with his violin, in front of his orchestra.

The six aces appear then and they succeed in moving Buenos Aires' popular music from  the right-hand corner of the silent-movie theater to center stage at the old Select Lavalle cinema. The players are Julio and Emilio De Caro (violins), Francisco De Caro (piano), Pedro Maffia and Pedro Laurenz (bandoneones) and [Leopoldo] Thompson (contrabass). The tangos that mark this epoch and set the example for other musicians are "Guardia Vieja," "Mala Junta," "Buen Amigo," "Tierra Querida," "Todo Corazón," "Triste," etc. In this resides the great value of Julio De Caro for us: he extolled the value of our tango, and he elevated it.

His brother Francisco De Caro was declared an "ace" of the tango and he composed tangos that would be "the method" required by aspiring pianists. Everyone loved him as they did Julio, and admired him for his keyboard artistry and for his tangos: "Flores Negras," "Loca Bohemia"....

1931. On the steamship Massilia they arrive in France. They carry in their suitcase of dreams the memory of Buenos Aires and an eagerness for triumph that throbs in their hearts and is expressed in dignified tango phrases.

CHARLIE CHAPLIN: In the Palais [de la] Meditarranée [Nice, France] they play as a variety act [i.e., in concert] and by special request of Charlie Chaplin, they move to the dance floor where the virtuoso Charlie dances "El Monito"... A tango! Argentine music! They continue via Cannes and Biarritz, to Italy.

TURIN: The (Theatre) Politeama Chiarella holds a gala reception for De Caro. The Prince of Piamonte attends the debut, and after the performance he stays in his seat, compelling the Argentina orchestra to play fourteen encores, after which the prince gives a standing ovation before leaving. They go to Genoa, Milan, Rome, and Paris where they meet our great CARLOS GARDEL, and film with him "Luces de Buenos Aires."

In a month and a half in Paris they earned 800,000 francs, a record for the period. President Lebrún congratulates them and thanks them or coming. The dailies say succinctly: "One has heard tango of a very high level."

And Julio and the guys pack their bags again with the joy of triumph and return to us, without imagining perhaps, that everything passes and the happiness can't last. The tango has declined. Therefore we say: A moment of silence in memory of the figure of Julio De Caro... enough said.

 

Firpo Talks! ("Cantando," 1945)

Bandleader Ebe Bedrune, "The Lady in White," interviewed Maestro Roberto Firpo for the weekly magazine "Cantando" in 1945. Translation by Michael Krugman for Tango Decoder. Photo source: Tango Time Machine Archives.

Roberto Firpo. "Alma de Bohemio" would be enough to define him. We know well the exquisite musicality of his compositions and it's really a shame that he who composed "El Amanecer" and "El Rápido," didn't compose more; he has no right to leave us without his inspiration which produces music so full of color and emotion.

Ebe Bedrune: Why is that, maestro?

Roberto Firpo: It's because I've worked a lot and now I'm feeling a bit of nostalgia for the peace and quiet of home, and that's why I've abandoned in part my artistic activities.

Ebe: It's true, you have said in part, because I believe you continue with the quartet that has given you such satisfaction.

Firpo: As a matter of fact, Ebe, I've signed contracts to record with the quartet.

Ebe: You always record with Odeon, right?

Firpo: Yes, it's been more than thirty years that I've been with the label, where I feel very much at home. I remember that when I tried recording in the year '14, the piano wasn't accepted as part of the típica; but even so we gave it a go. There wasn't much enthusiasm, but by chance a client heard it and took an interest, and the label saw that it was marketable.

Ebe: And then?

Firpo: Then they offered me an exclusive recording contract that let me devote myself to ranching.

Ebe: When did you return to tango?

Firpo: In the year '30, when I resumed my radio appearances with renewed energy and enthusiasm.

Ebe: Don Roberto, how did the song "Alma de Bohemio" come to be?

Firpo: It was back in '14. Florencio Parravicini, the magnificent Parravicini (Argentine film actor, 1876-1941) was playing a role in which he was to appear playing the violin. He asked me for something very melodic, and when he heard what I'd composed, he threw his arms around me and said it was everything he had imagined. What pals we were! And what times those were! Listen, Ebe, let me tell you a story that I'm just now remembering: I was playing back then at the famous Cafe Hansen with a trio that included Juan Carlos Bazán and (violinist Francisco) Postiglione. Can you image what they were paying us? Three pesos a night, one peso for each of us! Ay! And the majority of the songs had to be improvised! That was in the year 1907, more or less.

Ebe: But, Don Roberto, why don't you perform or compose more frequently?

Firpo: I might return with the orchestra next year. I'm actually preparing a few things and I'm going out a bit.

Indeed, Roberto Firpo lives in the tranquility of his home, instructing his children in the mysteries of that same emotion. He is constructing a chalet in Don Torcuato in order to live closer to the sun and to his memories.

A Pitiless Riposte: D'Agostino's "Todo Terminó"

"I alone know what I suffered by forgetting you, by tearing you out of my heart. And now that I’m wise to your tricks, I want nothing to do with you!"

I love this little-heard D'Agostino song that was recommended to us by Mariola Golińczak, so I decided to decode the lyrics by Mario Soto. Nothing mysterious, really, just a straight translation. What impresses me is the forthrightness of the narrator. Borges once said that tango lyrics are "the effeminate whinging of jilted pimps," and with a lot of songs that's just how it seems. Here, the narrator's pitiless riposte has a more forceful, direct quality that demands respect. Take that, Borges!

TodoTango identifies Mario Soto (20 August 1912 - 20 April 1995) as a lyricist, commentator, actor and scriptwriter. He seems to have struggled as an actor and scriptwriter, but he distinguished himself as a lyricist with the milonga COMPADREANDO and the tangos EL YACARÉ, ME LLAMAN TANGO, and the present example, TODO TERMINÓ.

Soto had two other roles that pique my curiosity. One was as the business manager and announcer for the orchestra of Angel D'Agostino: imagine all the curious minutiae of tango lore that must have been stored in his brain! The other is as the glosa artist for D'Agostino, Alfredo Attadia (during Angel Vargas's brief solo bid in 1943), Pedro Laurenz, Osvaldo Pugliese, and possibly others. The glosa artist was a guy who would introduce the songs during live or radio appearances, often reciting a brief poetic verse of his own composition intended to complement the lyrics of the song. The glosa is to my mind part of the hidden history of tango. It was quite common during the Golden Age—and anyone who lived through the era would have been familiar with the custom—though only a few of the verses survive on recording.

The jazzy ad shown above was prepared by the Santa Cruz publicity agency for the D'Agostino orchestra's appearances at Club Atlético Estudiantes during Carnavál. It appeared in the "El Mundo" newspaper's Dance Guide on Saturday, 13 March 1943, and several other times during that year's celebrations. 

TODO TERMINÓ (It's all over now)
Tango, 1942
Music: Alfredo Attadia and Ismael Spitalnik
Lyrics: Mario Soto
English-language version by Michael Krugman for Tango Decoder

Hoy que la vida te venció, has vuelto por saber si puedes refugiarte en mi querer. No te ha traído a mi rincón sino la humillación del hombre que a su lado te arrastró. En el perdón que has implorado esté el despecho reflejado. Ya ves, tu infamia me enseñó a ser tu propio juez. Por eso, sin piedad te condené. Antes hubiera perdonado ¡todo!... ¡todo! Pero ya es tarde en tu pecado, quedó deshecha mi fe. Yo sólo sé lo que sufrí por olvidarte, por arrancarte del corazón. Y hoy me rebelo a tus engaños, nada quiero de vos. Ya ni tu llanto me conmueve, porque también llorando mientes. Será mejor para los dos que olvides,       como yo, es todo lo que puedo hacer por vos.

Now that life has defeated you, you have come back to see if you can take refuge in my love. The only thing that could have brought you to my corner is your humiliation by the man who made you grovel at his feet. The pardon you’ve begged for evokes only spite in me. So you see, your disgrace taught me to be the judge of you. Therefore, without pity I condemned you. Back then I might have forgiven everything!...      everything! But now your repentance comes too late, my faith remains undone. I alone know what I suffered by forgetting you, by tearing you out of my heart. And now that I’m wise to your tricks, I want nothing to do with you. Not even your tears move me to pity, because by weeping you’re lying, too. It will be better for us both if you forget, like me, that’s the best I can do for you.

Musical Chairs with the Donato Brothers....

...and singer Jorge Denis (1943-47)

If you read this page, you may have seen our chronology of the breakup of Edgardo Donato's orchestra, which is quite different from the accounts given in earlier sources. Judging by the ads in "El Mundo," Edgardo's orchestra bifurcated much later than previously believed, not in June 1942, but in May 1943, with the earliest performance of Edgardo's new orchestra (with singers Jorge Denis and Pablo Lozano) being advertised on the 23rd of that month.

Osvaldo's aggregation, which included most of Edgardo's instrumentalists plus vocalist Horacio Lagos, went their own way. That orchestras was quite successful at first, with a flood of high-profile gigs (beginning with a ten-week engagement at Bar El Nacional) and radio appearances throughout 1944. Edgardo didn't disappear by any means, but was not as active as usual for the remainder of '43 and all of '44. Even so, he made a strong showing at Carnavál, appeared frequently on Radio "El Mundo," and in May debuted a Guardia Vieja-style cuarteto with Anselmo Aieta, Francisco Pracánico, and Domingo Donnaruma.

As a result of my most recent researches, I'm finding that by 1945-47 the tables were very much turned. Osvaldo's orchestra starts to lose steam and Edgardo goes full speed ahead. I don't have the full story yet--I'm still sifting through the data I've collected. But it's quite clear that Edgardo's "Típica Moderna," as his orchestra was called beginning in 1945, was hugely popular, especially at Carnavál, when he and Julio De Caro musicalized for a dance at the Círculo General General Urquiza attended by 5000 people. He was still going strong in 1947 as the main act for the eight nights of Carnavál dances at Racing Club, playing the club's huge, 6000 square metre annex at Nogoya 3045 with his new singers Roberto Beltrán and Osvaldo Morel accompanied by jazz phenomenon "Hector." Big football clubs like Racing depended on revenue from Carnavál dances for their survival; they couldn't afford to take a chance on a second-rate orchestra. After his stellar results during the 1945 and '46 Carnavál seasons, Edgardo had become a bankable entity and Racing would have considered him a sound investment.  

During the same period Osvaldo's trail goes cold. It's hard to find any ad for him around Carnavál time 1947. Except, that is, for the one you see here, an almost ignominious, one-night engagement in San Isidro, a northern suburb of Buenos Aires that in those days lay just a few kilometres this side of Nowheresville. An even bigger surprise is Osvaldo's vocal lineup: Horacio Lagos is gone, replaced by none other than Edgardo's mic-wrangler of 1943-44, Jorge Denis! Denis shares singing duties with one Osvaldo Bazán, whose bio on todotango.com tells us that he left the orchestra in early 1949 because Osvaldo didn't have enough work for him. He went with Juan Sanchez Gorio instead. That's a huge change from Osvaldo's triumphant ascendancy of 1943-44. It's not clear to me what happened to Lagos, but it suggests that he was, in his time, an indispensable factor in the Donato equation. When Edgardo lost him, it took the better part of two years to fully recover; when Osvaldo lost him, he really did go "off the radar," and I suspect he never came back. As always, further research is needed. I'll keep you posted!

PS: Who was the mysterious Emilio LAGOS who hosted Osvaldo's gig in San Isidro? Was he an unknown brother or cousin of Horacio's? Or is the conjunction of last names just one of those weird coincidences that history sometimes throws in our faces, just to hold us in its thrall?

This Tango Bandleader Liked Short Skirts, Long Pants, Motorcycles and Chopin

Tango bandleader Ebe Bedrune, known as the "The Tango Woman" or "The Lady in White," was a vivacious young pianist whose father, Abel, had been the leader of an orquesta típica in Rosario, Argentina, 150 km north of the Capital Federal. One day her father fell ill and couldn't play that night's show, so Ebe grabbed the baton and led the orchestra herself. Later, she got herself to Buenos Aires, formed her own band, and developed a very distinctive style of playing, arranging, and conducting as well as a flamboyant personal style that ran to white tuxedos and top hats. In her personal life, she liked to wear short skirts, drive a motorcycle, and play Chopin on her piano. She spoke English and studied French, read philosophy, and had a teacher's license. She wore pants onstage because, she facetiously explained, her father had once said, "to conduct tangos takes guts." In Spanish the phrase is Para dirigir tangos, es necesario tener bien puesto sus pantalones. The literal meaning is, "to conduct tangos, you need to have your pants well pressed."

The pictures and text shown here are from a tango and jazz fan magazine called Cantando from 1945. It contains no profound revelations. But it does tell us that way back in the mid-1940s a bold, high-spirited woman had the talent and the courage to wave a baton at an orquesta típica at a time when that activity was exclusively reserved for men, and she did it with great style. And it provides us with some delightful images most of us have never seen before.

Unfortunately, Ebe Bedrune never had a chance to record with her orchestra. It was only in operation about a year, as far as I can tell. She mentions in the article that funding and debt was problem. Maybe it got the better of her. What a shame we haven't got a single recording!

[Note: Ebe wasn't tango's only female bandleader. She was preceded by bandoneonist Paquita Bernardo (whose lineup included Osvaldo Pugliese and Elvino Vardaro) and possibly others. And there were all-women's tango orchestras that played in the barrios, although we don't know much about them. But in 1945, at the height of tango's Golden Age, she was the only woman directing a full-on orquesta típica. Thanks to Aad de Danser for reminding me of this!]