Tango Time Machine — Tango Decoder

Subtitled Tango #36: DOS FRACASOS ("Two Disasters," Caló/Podestá)

DOS FRACASOS ("Two Disasters")
Tango, 1941
Music by Miguel Caló
Words by Homero Expósito

Performed by Orquesta Típica Miguel Caló with vocal by Alberto Podestá, 31 July 1941.

Subtitled video in Spanish with English-language version. (Titles begin immediately; if you don't see them, click the "CC" button.)

Full, face-to-face text of the lyrics in Spanish and English follows the video.

 

Me sorprendí Cuando te hallé Como un dolor sin palabras. La voz mareada de copas Se me anudó en la garganta. Quise gritar, Pero pa´ qué Si al fin yo estoy igual.   Sueños... Que gastamos conversando, Cuando... Nos hablábamos de amor. Horas... Que ya están en el olvido, Sensación de haber perdido La esperanza en el adiós. Rabia... De sabernos tan cambiados, Miedo... De gritar esta verdad, Somos... Dos fracasos que se amaron Y partieron y olvidaron, Y hoy se miran asombrados De morder la realidad.   Vuelve otra vez A tu rincón Que yo ya me voy con los años. Ya llueve plata en mis sienes Y hay un dolor en tus manos. Pa´ qué llorar Todo el ayer Si ya no puede ser.

I was surprised, when I found you like a pain, dumbstruck. Your voice dizzy with drink, tied a knot in my throat. I wanted to scream, but what for if in the end I’m just like you? Dreams... that we spent discussing. When... we used to talk of love. Hours... that are now forgotten, the feeling of having lost the hope of our farewell. Rage, seeing how much we've both changed, fear, of crying out that truth. We are... two failures that loved each other and parted and forgot and today we find ourselves astonished to take in the reality. [Go back again to your corner that I'm already leaving with the years. Now silver rains on my temples and there’s a pain in your hands. Why weep for all that went before, if now it cannot be?]

 Spanish lyrics courtesy of hermanotango.com.

Subtitled Tango #36: DOS FRACASOS ("Two Disasters")

DOS FRACASOS ("Two Disasters")
Tango, 1941
Music by Miguel Caló
Words by Homero Expósito

Performed by Orquesta Típica Miguel Caló with vocal by Alberto Podestá, 31 July 1941.

Muñeca Brava: One hell of a woman...!

Enrique Cadícamo in 1941.

Here's another well-known tango from Luis Visca and Enrique Cadícamo (authors of Compadrón, featured in an earlier post). Carlos Gardel recorded it in 1929 with the original Lunfardo-rich lyrics intact. A bowdlerized, de-Lunfardized version was recorded by Alberto Castillo with Ricardo Tanturi's orchestra (1942), and subsequent versions seem to follow the Castillo pattern. An exception is Lalo Martel's 1959 version with De Angelis, which is fairly faithful to the original. Tango Decoder's English-language version of Muñeca Brava is below, followed by our notes.

Muñeca brava*
(Femme Fatale)
Tango
1929
Music: Luis Visca
Lyric: Enrique Cadícamo

Che madam que parlás en francés y tirás ventolín a dos manos, que escabiás copetín bien frapé y tenés gigoló bién bacán... Sos un biscuit de pestañas muy arqueadas... Muñeca brava bien cotizada. Sos del Trianón... del Trianón de Villa Crespo... Milonguerita, juguete de ocasión... Tenés un camba* que te hacen gustos y veinte abriles que son diqueros, y muy repleto tu monedero pa´ patinarlo de Norte a Sud... Te baten todos Muñeca Brava porque a los giles mareás sin grupo, pa´ mi sos siempre la que no supo guardar un cacho de amor y juventud. Campaneá la ilusión que se va y embrocá tu silueta de rango, y si el llanto te viene a buscar escurrí tu dolor y reí... Meta champán que la vida se te escapa, Muñeca Brava, flor de pecado... Cuando llegués al final de tu carrera, tus primaveras verás languidecer

Hey* madame who parlez-vous français* And spends money hand over fist,* Who drinks her cocktails well iced* And keeps a gigolo in high style.... You’re a sweet biscuit, Eyelashes well curled.... Muñeca Brava, femme fatale, High-priced. You’re from the Trianon... The Club Trianon in the Villa Crespo,* Foxy milonguera Dangerous toy.... You’ve got a loverboy to pleasure you And twenty good years to brag about.* Your purse is full enough To gamble it away North and South. They all call you Muñeca Brava, Because you get the chumps* all dizzy, and that’s no lie, To me you’ll always be the gal who didn’t know How to preserve even a speck* of love and youth. See the dream that eluded you, And take a good look at your imposing silhouette. And if the tears ever manage to catch up with you Give pain the slip, and laugh it off.... Swill* champagne as life slips away, Muñeca Brava, flower of sin, When you reach the end of your career Then you’ll see your primroses wilt.

*Muñeca Brava: Muñeca (Lunf.) denotes an attractive young woman (literally “doll”). Brava (Lunf.) denotes a sexually provocative woman. Hence Muñeca Brava is more or less equivalent to the French/English femme fatale.

*Che: Interjection used to get someone's attention. "Che, pibe, traeme un café."

*madame who parlez-vous français: The original is madam que parlás en francés. Parlás is from the French verb parler, to speak, but with the Spanish inflection -ás. The narrator/singer is imitating the sound of French. French women were highly prized as prostitutes, mistresses, singers, etc., and many who were not French assumed Frenchified identities.

*spends money hand over fist: tirás ventolín a dos manos, literally, “you throw money (ventolín, Lunf.) with both hands.”

*drinks her cocktails well iced: escabiás copetín bien frapé. Escabiás, from escabiar (Lunf.), verb of Italian origin, means to drink alcoholic beverages, usually with the intention to get drunk. Frapé from the French, frappé, iced.

*Trianon...Trianon in Villa Crespo: A double-entendre referring to the Trianon palace at Versaille and, in thinly veiled form, the Petit Trianon, a notorious brothel located on Pichincha Street, a red-light district in Rosario.

*twenty good years to brag about: veinte abriles que son diqueros. Abriles (Lunf.) are years (literally, Aprils) and a diquero (Lunf.) is a show-off, one who brags.

*chumps: giles are chumps or marks (Lunf.)

*sin grupo: grupo (Lunf.) is a deception or a lie.

*speck: un cacho (Lunf.), a speck or fragment. 

*swill: Meta (Lunf.)

Other Tango Decoder versions by Enrique Cadícamo:
Argañaraz  •  Compadrón  •  El cuarteador  •  No vendrá  •  Si la llegaran a ver  •  Tres esquinas  •  Tu llamado  •  Un dilema

 

 

 

 

 

SOY MUCHACHO DE LA GUARDIA (avec sous-titres en français)

SOY MUCHACHO DE LA GUARDIA
(« Je suis un gars de la vieille garde »)
Tango de 1942
Musique d'Agustín Irusta
Paroles d’Héctor Marcó

Interprété par la Orquesta Típica Aníbal Troilo avec Francisco Fiorentino au chant. Enregistrement du 15/06/1942.

New Banner: Lucio Demare and Raul Beron at the Palermo Palace (1943)

I hope you like our new banner photo (above)! Its one of the nicest ads from the "El Mundo" newspaper's "Dance Guide." The ad announces a series of shows by bandleader Lucio Demare and his new singer, Raúl Berón at the Palermo Palace in early 1943.

The Palace is a bit of a mystery. It hosted many important acts like Demare with Berón, Angel D'Agostino, Alberto Castillo, Orlando Goñi, Roberto Rufino, and many others, yet I haven't found anyone who knows anything about the place. And the building itself is long gone...

I've seen two pictures taken at the Palace, but none of them are reveal much except that the audience was overwhelmingly male! You'll have to look really hard to find the female faces in the picture shown here, which was taken during the debut of the singer Carlos Tagle in 1945. Women were admitted free, but the incentive doesn't seem to have had much effect. It might be that, like the cabarets of the time, the place employed coperas, that is, women whose main job was to get male customers to buy expensive drinks for them (which usually consisted of nothing more than iced tea). In that case, respectable women would have been loath to attend without an escort, and even then, it was considered questionable. The few women we see in the photo may be coperas, or they may be free-spirited milongueras who were plucky enough to go wherever they like.

Subtitled Tango Video #35: TRES AMIGOS ("Three Friends") in Spanish and English

TRES AMIGOS ("Three Friends")
Tango, 1942
Words and music by Enrique Cadícamo

Recorded here by Orquesta Típica Aníbal Troilo
with vocal by Alberto Marino 1944-04-11.
Subtitles and English-language version by Michael Krugman for TangoDecoder.com

TRENZAS ("Tresses"): Vidéo de tango sous-titrée en français et en espagnol

TRENZAS ("Braids"): Full text plus subtitled video in Spanish and English

TRENZAS (Braids)
Tango, 1944
Lyrics by Homero Expósito
Music by Armando Pontier
Recorded by Orquesta Típica Miguel Caló with vocal by Raúl Iriarte, 1945-02-20.

Subtitled tango video in Spanish and English, followed by full text, including unsung third stanza.

Trenzas, seda dulce de tus trenzas, luna en sombra de tu piel y de tu ausencia. Trenzas que me ataron en el yugo de tu amor, yugo casi blando de tu risa y de tu voz... Fina caridad de mi rutina, me encontré tu corazón en una esquina... Trenzas de color de mate amargo que endulzaron mi letargo gris. ¿Adónde fue tu amor de flor silvestre? ¿Adónde, adónde fue después de amarte? Tal vez mi corazón tenía que perderte y así mi soledad se agranda por buscarte. ¡Y estoy llorando así cansado de llorar, trenzado a tu vivir con trenzas de ansiedad... sin ti! ¡Por qué tendré que amar y al fin partir! [Pena, vieja angustia de mi pena, frase trunca de tu voz que me encadena... Pena que me llena de palabras sin rencor, llama que te llama con la llama del amor. Trenzas, seda dulce de tus trenzas, luna en sombra de tu piel y de tu ausencia, trenzas, nudo atroz de cuero crudo que me ataron a tu mudo adiós...

Braids, soft silk of your braids, moon in the shadow of your skin, and of your absence. Braids that bound me in the yoke of your love almost tender yoke of your laughter and your voice. Exquisite charity of my daily routine, I found your heart on a street corner.... Braids the color of bitter maté that sweetened my dull lethargy. Where did it go, your wildflower love? Where, where did it go after loving you? Maybe my heart had to lose you and so my loneliness is magnified by looking for you. And now I’m weeping so, tired of weeping, braided into your life with braids of longing... without you! Why do I have to love and in the end, to part! [Sorrow, old anguish of my sorrow, fragments of your voice that enchain me.... Suffering that fills me with words without rancor, passion that calls you with the flame of love. Braids, soft silk of your braids, moon in shadow of your skin of your absence, braids, unbearable rawhide knot that binds me to your wordless farewell...]

Subtitled Tango No. 33: SE VA LA VIDA (Edgardo Donato, 1936)

SE VA LA VIDA (Life Goes...)
Tango, 1936
Music: Edgardo Donato
Words: María Luisa Carnelli (a.k.a. Luis Mario)
Subtitled video in Spanish and English: Michael Krugman

Note: Edgardo Donato's familiar, super-danceable performance of Se Va La Vida, below, includes only partial lyrics. Azucena Maizani's very fine tango canción version includes full lyrics. Please hear our subtitled video of that, too!

Woman to woman: An intimate interview with Tania

"She Turned Down 300 Dollars A Day By Returning to Buenos Aires..."

Any Tania fans out there? I certainly am one.

For those who may not know, Tania (13 October 1893-17 February 1994!) was a Spanish singer and actress best known for her artistic and personal association with actor, director, poet, playwright, and tango lyricist Enrique Santos Discépolo. (They met after the poet heard her sing his super-edgy tango ESTA NOCHE ME EMBORRACHO in Buenos Aires's "Folies Bergère" cabaret, and was delighted with it, and her.) But Tania was a star in her own right, and she had her own unique personality and aura which is charmingly revealed in this very intimate, woman-to-woman interview that she gave to tango bandleader Ebe Bedrune for the weekly magazine "Cantando" in 1945. We hope you'll enjoy it!

(A very nice bio of Tania at TodoTango.com calls her un cascabel radiante, "a radiant jingle bell." Worth a read.)

Click on the image to see a fully legible, hi-res version of the original article. (Photo source: Tango Time Machine.) Or read our English-language transcript below.

***

Ebe Bedrune Asks, and Tania Answers...

She Turned Down 300 Dollars a Day By Returning To Buenos Aires

Tania, "the actress of tango." I would say, tango made emotion. A coquettish little room, of exquisite simplicity. Not even a painting on the wall. This is marvelous. Each and every corner breathes the soul of our popular music. In each and every corner is Tania and Discépolo. 

Ebe: Did you always sing, Tania?

Tania: Always, Ebe, from the day I was born, there was not a moment in my life in which I wasn't a singer.

And she herself is song, her gestures, her eyes, her smile, have that magnificent expression of those who have soul.

What impression did you have on your tour of America?

It was a dream; my performance in Chile, that was supposed to be only a few days, had to be extended for three months, with such success that they were truly emotional days.

And then?

I went on to Mexico. The Mexican public is really sympathetic; and the only word I can say is "thanks."

You were there quite a while, weren't you?

Performing in El Patio for five consecutive months, which set a real record; one of the few cases in which an artist has had such a long appearance without a break.

And why didn't you continue your tour?

You see, Ebe: Out of homesickness for Buenos Aires.

Homesickness?

Yes, it's odd, it reminds me of an earlier visit to Europe when Discépolo and I were performing in Paris. From Italy we received a message saying that in twenty days we were to start a new tour leaving France, returning to Italy, and arriving at Cairo to go across India.

A most promising trip, was it not?

Really, Ebe; but then I felt, without knowing why, an enormous desire to return to Buenos Aires; to walk the port-city streets, to hear the friendly voices, to see its blue sky and its marvelous stars. I was seized by an enormous heartbreak; I had to return, and I did. I didn't do the tour.

Her eyes seem clearer; and there is in them a trace of infinite sadness; they seem to be longing for the suggestion of those strange lands with their breath of mystery and legend.

But, Tania, if you felt such homesickness that you had to return, why this sorrow in your eyes now that you remember the lost trip?

For just that, Ebe, for the lost trip.

And it happened to you again this time, right?

That's right. After being in Peru, and then in Mexico again, they offered me a salary of thre hundred dollars a day to perform in Cuba. [Almost $4000 in today's currency, according to dollartimes.com.--TD] Tempting, right? But I couldn't do it. My desire to return was stronger.

I've heard that it was easy for you to convince the authorities to give you the visa necessary to visit North America. Why didn't you choose to go, Tania?

Not only as a tourist, Ebe, but they offered me a contract to perform in my capacity as an artist for six months.

And...?

And the same as when I was supposed to see the wonders of India, the Havana offer, and the North American visa.

It's that Tania, above all, is a woman. The spiritual grandeur of one who is truly a woman who knows the why of each one of her emotions, and puts them first before whatever flattery the world may bestow; who has her coquettish little apartment in El Centro and her grand home in Olivos, because she knows when to devote herself to her fans; and she knows when to wrap herself up in herself.

One thing surprises me, Tania: that you haven't "done" radio this last season.

It's true. They made me some offers but they "could not be"; so I have put aside the microphone that I love so much because it brings me closer to the listeners. Now, casually, in conjunction with of the confitería where I sing, we're going to solve that problem.

I still remember your performance in "Caprichosa y millonaria" [Capricious Millionaire, a 1940 film directed by Discépolo, with Tania in a starring role.—TD] and I can't understand how such a gifted actress has not returned to the screen.

That's another problem—the question of character (personaje). The one you cited was one I wouldn't mind doing again. Now I can only hope for a film role.

Currently, Tania?

I am performing in a stylish confitería [probably the cafetería "Luba," at Suipacha 580--TD] where I have nothing but praise for the the audiences, whom I now consider to be my fans.

Will you be there for a long time?

Yes, my contract is long; but possibly I'll take some short vacations for a month or two; because I'm a little tired; for some time I've been working very intensively, and I feel the desire now to be all by myself a little.

In truth, Tania is very conscientious about her work; about that which she has to give the fans who love her and follow her; she rehearses constantly, she prepares her repertoire with supreme care, and she attends to her costumes, because, as I said before, Tania is, before anything else, a woman.

Of an exquisite elegance; fine, delicately feminine. Tania possesses the marvelous gift of making herself understood to every heart, because she puts a little of her "self" into every one of her songs, which is what makes them so moving.

Listening to Tania, I lost track of the time and my coffee went cold. Without my noticing, it had gotten very late.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Subtitled Tango #30: PERO YO SÉ (D'Agostino/Vargas 1942)

"I know that in the wee hours, when you leave those wild parties, you feel your heart burdened by a fond memory, and you start to cry...."

PERO...YO SÉ (But...I know)
Tango, 1942
Words and music by Azucena Maizani

Our subtitled video follows. Scroll down for side-by side Spanish and English lyrics. A complete playlist of all our subtitled tangos is here.

Llegando la noche recién te levantas y sales ufano a buscar un beguén.* Lucís con orgullo tu estampa elegante sentado muy muelle en tu regia baqué. Paseás por Corrientes, paseas por Florida, te das una vida mejor que un pachá. De regios programas tenés a montones... Con clase y dinero de todo tendrás. Pero yo sé que metido vivís penando un querer, que querés hallar olvido cambiando tanta mujer... Yo sé que en las madrugadas, cuando las farras dejás, sentís tu pecho oprimido por un recuerdo querido y te ponés a llorar. Con tanta aventura, con toda tu andanza, llevaste tu vida tan sólo al placer. Con todo el dinero que siempre has tenido todos tus caprichos lograste vencer. Pensar que ese brillo que fácil ostentas no sabe la gente que es puro disfraz. Tu orgullo de necio muy bien los engaña... No quieres que nadie lo sepa jamás.

Night is falling You’ve just awakened and happily you set out to pick up your latest conquest. You show off with pride your elegant appearance seated very comfortably in your snazzy sports car. You drive along Corrientes, your drive along Florida, you lead a life better than any pasha. You’ve got piles of magnificent plans... With money and class you’ll have all of that. But I know that inside you’re still grieving for a love that you’re trying to forget by changing women all the time. I know that in the wee hours, when you leave those wild parties, you feel your heart burdened by a fond memory and you start to cry. With so many affairs, with all your adventures, you dedicated your life to pleasure alone. With all the money you’ve always had you’ve managed to conquer your every desire. To think that this brilliance that you facilely flaunt, people don’t know that it’s pure disguise. Your foolish pride fools them completely... You hoped that no one would ever know.

 

 

Azucena Maizani (1928)


























Julio De Caro's Carnaval Gig, 1941

Carnavál 1941. Julio De Caro plays 7 shows at the Teatro Pueyrredon de Flores opposite Eddie Kay and his Alabama Jazz. Segments of the shows were broadcast live on Radio El Mundo.

"...and remember that the traditional dances of the PUEYRREDON de FLORES, Rivadavia 6871, are starting tomorrow. Típica Julio de Caro - Eddie Kay and his Alabama Jazz."

The building (top, right, from parabuenosaires.com) was created by Belgian architect Alberto Edmundo Bourdon (1881-1965). It still stands, but is currently slated for demolition.

The ad from El Mundo newspaper is below, right. The text is:

"...and remember that the traditional dances of the PUEYRREDON de FLORES, Rivadavia 6871, are starting tomorrow. Típica Julio de Caro - Eddie Kay and his Alabama Jazz."

"At the Foot of the Holy Cross": A Tango Protest Song

"Sin trabajo, sin pan," Ernesto de la Cárcova, 1893

The 1933 tango Al pie de la santa cruz ("At the foot of the holy cross") tells the poignant story of a striking worker who is punished by being transported, probably to the notorious Ushuaia prison in Tierra del Fuego, leaving his wife, child, and aging parents weeping at dockside. It is one of the few explicitly political protest-songs among tango lyrics.

Lyrics in Spanish and English, notes, recording history, and further commentary are below the text.

AL PIE DE LA SANTA CRUZ
"At the foot of the holy cross"
1933
Music by Enrique Delfino
Lyrics by Mario Battistella

Declaran la huelga, hay hambre en las casas, es mucho el trabajo y poco el jornal; y en ese entrevero de lucha sangrienta, se venga de un hombre la Ley Patronal. Los viejos no saben que lo condenaron, pues miente, piadosa, su pobre mujer. Quizás un milagro le lleve el indulto y vuelva en su casa la dicha de ayer. Mientras tanto, al pie de la santa Cruz, una anciana desolada llorando implora a Jesús: "Por tus llagas que son santas, por mi pena y mi dolor, ten piedad de nuestro hijo, ¡Protégelo, Señor!" Y el anciano, que no sabe ya rezar, con acento tembloroso también protesta a la par: "¿Qué mal te hicimos nosotros pa' darnos tanto dolor?" Y, a su vez, dice la anciana: "¡Protégelo, Señor!..." Los pies engrillados, cruzó la planchada. La esposa lo mira, quisiera gritar... Y el pibe inocente que lleva en los brazos le dice llorando: "¡Yo quiero a papá!" Largaron amarras y el último cabo vibró, al desprenderse, en todo su ser. Se pierde de vista la nave maldita y cae desmayada la pobre mujer…

A strike is called, there’s hunger in the houses, the work is long and the wage is low; and in that confusion of of bloody struggles, the Boss's Law* takes its revenge on a man. His parents don’t know he's been sentenced, and his unlucky wife, out of pity, she lies: Maybe a miracle will bring him a pardon and return to his home some of yesterday’s joy. Meanwhile, at the foot of the Holy Cross,* a forlorn old woman, weeping, begs Jesus: “By your wounds that are holy, by my sorrow and pain, take pity on our son, and protect him, O Lord!” And just then the old fellow, who doesn’t yet know how to pray, he, too, protests with shaking voice: “What did we ever do to you, that you'd give us such pain?” And the old lady, in turn, says, "Protect him, Lord!" With shackled feet he crosses the gangplank. The wife looks at him, wishing she could scream... And the innocent kid that she holds in her arms says to him, crying, “I love you, Daddy!” They cast off the moorings and the last headland; in her whole being she was shaking, as the hulk pulled away. And as the cursed ship was lost from sight the poor woman fell down in a faint....

NOTES

* The Boss's Law: As far as I can tell, La Ley Patronal is not the name of a specific law, but a poetic and derisive characterization of the law in general, implying that it serves the patrones  (bosses) rather than the working people. 

* Holy Cross: The image of the worker's mother praying at the foot of the "holy cross" is a touching one; it links the suffering of the worker and his family to the suffering of Jesus Christ. The words may have a double meaning, however: according to some sources (one is cited below), the ship that transported prisoners to the Presidio de Ushuaia in Tierra del Fuego was called Santa Cruz. Hence many bereft families actually stood on the pier, literally "at the foot of the Santa Cruz," when they saw their loved ones carried away by that "cursed ship."

Further commentary from Gardel.es (translated by TD):

"Al pie de la santa cruz was born as a reflection of the socio-economic deterioration suffered by Argentina after the economic crash of 1930. It denounces the brutal repression by the de facto government of General Uriburu, which ordered the suppression of protests by means of shootings, mass imprisonment, and deportations.

"The lyric is explicit yet leaves room for poetic allegory, suggesting by its title the suffering of Jesus Christ. Santa Cruz was in its day the name of a navy prison-ship at the foot of which, from the pier, the teary-eyed family would see the loved one leave on his calvary.

"Transports," they were called. In the National Penitentiary it was known that the most feared punishment was being transported to "The Land" [Tierra del Fuego—TD]. After a medical checkup and a meal, the prisoners were told they would be transported to Ushuaia. In the morning they had to put all their things together, submit to an inspection, and then be shackled with iron bars that didn't permit them to advance more than fifteen centimeters. In short order, the condemned not only had the skin peeled from their ankles, but from their souls, too. (Guillermo Saccomanno, 2008)

RECORDING HISTORY

The song was recorded by Carlos Gardel in 1933 and by the Orquesta Típica Victor with vocal by Alberto Gómez in the same year. A heavily rewritten, apolitical version of the lyric was recorded by Alfredo De Angelis in December 1949, during the reign of Juan Perón but almost a year after the formal lifting of the censorship of tango lyrics. Asked about the bowdlerized recording years later, De Angelis answered, "What do you want? By other means, they held me prisoner, too." It would seem that this lyric, with its social-realist imagery, its sharp political commentary, and its compelling appeal to humanistic values, was still too incendiary for the time.

THE LYRICIST

Lyricist, translator, dramatist, and talent agent Mario Battistella (1893-1968) was born in Verona, Italy and spent much of his life in Argentina. He was the author of Cuartito Azul, Melodía de arrabal, Bronca, Remembranza, and approximately two hundred other lyrics, many of which were written for the stage and were heard only during the run of the shows for which they were written. He was a collaborator and advisor to Carlos Gardel, the manager of Argentino Ledesma and Edmundo Rivera, and the director of several Buenos Aires theaters.

 




"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!]

 

All hail the High Priestess of Tango!

This song was a delight to translate. I am very pleased to be able to add it to my collection of positive images of women in tango! Since it was suggested to me by my new Facebook friend, Milonguera Misteriosa, I dedicate this version to her. Think of it as a kind of burnt offering....

Recordings of the song? Biagi's with Hugo Duval is the classic, from 30 July 1951. Our video of Bailarina de Tango with subtitles in Spanish and English is below the text. Make sure the "CC" button is toggled "on" so you can see the titles.

BAILARINA DE TANGO
(PRIESTESS OF TANGO)
Music by Oscar de la Fuente
lyrics by Horacio Sanguinetti

De satén y color negro, la pollera. De charol y tacos altos, los zapatos. Dibujando garabatos, del ritmo que se adueña tu estampa de porteña.* Tu conoces el secreto de los tangos y es por eso que los bailas como nadie. Y en los brazos que te abrazas, que mística que pasas, danzando en el salón. Sacerdotisa del tango, sacerdotisa sentida. Rito es la danza en tu vida y el tango que tu amas te quema en su llama. Sacerdotisa del tango, que en los salones de rango, bailas en brazos de un hombre que luce el renombre de gran bailarín.

Of sateen and color black, the skirt. Of patent leather and high heels, the shoes. Drawing doodles of the rhythm that siezes your porteña figure.* You know the secrets of the tangos and that’s why you dance them like no one else. And in the men that you embrace, what mysticism you inspire, dancing in the ballroom. Priestess of tango, priestess of the heart. In your life the dance is a rite and the tango that you love consumes you in its flame. Priestess of tango, who in the ballrooms of distinction dances in the arms of a man who flaunts his fame as a great dancer.

* your porteña figure (tu estampa porteña): The word estampa can mean an image, sketch, engraving, figure, metal stamp or a print. It also denotes a "mass card," that is, a printed card, usually illustrated with a holy image (estampa?), announcing that a mass is being said for a deceased person. Hence the word, though it clearly alludes to the dancer's physical appearance, also suggests a religious or clerical aspect that is more plainly stated by the verses that precede  (i.e., the black clothing) and follow (priestess, rite, mysticism, etc.).

* flaunts his fame as a great dancer (luce el renombre de gran bailarín): the verb lucir means "to show off," "flaunt," "shine," and renombre is "fame, renown, or celebrity."

DRINK FROM THE DONATO CHALICE OF 1942!!!

Dear Friends--

Tango Time Machine has turned out to be a much bigger project than I ever imagined! The ads in Buenos Aires' "El Mundo" morning newspaper go on for at least another ten years beyond 1945, and I want to capture as many of them as I can. The information they contain is too fascinating and too valuable to miss. As a result, I've decided to commit more time to the project, which means staying in Buenos Aires for a longer period of time. To that end, I'm doing a little fundraising campaign to support this ongoing research and also, I hope, to give you joy.
     
THE EDGARDO DONATO MEMORIAL CHALICE is the first in a series of  "practical mementos" from Tango Time Machine. The 1942 Edgardo Donato advertising graphic pictured on the chalice is printed high-resolution on a high-quality ceramic vessel designed to hold your post-milonga coffee, tea or single-malt in style. I hope you will enjoy it.

The chalices cost us about $8 to manufacture, so we priced them at $16 plus shipping and handling--such a deal! Feel free to donate more if you wish; there is an option at checkout.... or simply buy in huge quantities! Your purchases will keep the Time Machine in good working order!

Our fundraising campaign closes on April 1, so please order now. Don't miss out on the EDGARDO DONATO MEMORIAL CHALICE!

PS: Please do SHARE this post with all your tango friends on Facebook and everywhere else...