In Strangers' Arms

Waking up at noon to break the time regimentation routine is a must. Rushing to work? I already forgot. Instead I hurry to an outdoor confiteria for a cafecito. Hurrying just to get the morning caffeine. Leisure begins. Sipping the cafecito under the sun…reading two newspapers so no cultural event is missed.

One event in today’s Sunday paper draws my interest: Discussion of Piazzolla’s tango at the Fondo Nacional de las Artes. The panel:  Horacio Malvicino (guitar player of Piazzolla’s quintet), Amelita Baltar (Piazzolla’s ex-partner and singer) and music critic Diego Fischerman.

We congregate in what was the former home of Victoria Ocampo, one of the poets and socialites of the early XX century. The home is nested in the greenery of Palermo Chico, a neighborhood of palatial residences, embassies, and the replica of Buglone Sur Mer, the house where San Martin, our Argentine hero, died in France. Among the French architecture of the area, Victoria’s home is strictly Corbusier

Digression: Ocampo left a few sentences about her exposure to tango at the aristocratic home of her grandfather in the very early 1900s. Tango continued to be played at her home for her intellectual elite friends. I am engaging in this digression to dispel the myth I hear in the USA, the one that says that Buenos Aires’ upper class rejected tango until after Paris cleaned it up after 1913.

Malvicino, who was “found” when the maestro was looking for a guitarist that could improvise, says Piazzolla had a complex personality, was harshly demanding and critical of his musicians, and never gave a compliment for a job well done.

Fischerman says that despite the rejection of his music, Astor always felt he was composing tangos. He had left Troilo’s orquesta in 1945. Despite its classical and jazz influences, Piazzolla’s music was tango. Piazzolla composed songs according to the talents of his musicians. He gave room for improvisation to some and allowed no deviation from the partitura to others.

Because of the opposition to his music by porteños they had to play in small café concerts rather than in large theatres. Consequently, relates Malvicino, they made hardly any money so, while working for Piazzolla, he and his wife had to sleep in a mattress on the floor next to the new born son’s mattress.

Malvicino’s inability to sustain a family forced him and other musicians to move on. The Octeto, formed in 1955 became explosive, unleashing a “civil war” in the tango world, a passionate debate as to whether Astor’s music was tango or not. We learn that Francini advised Piazzolla to make his music more accessible to the masses, more danceable, but Pizzolla would not listen to such advice. The Octeto had a short life, only two recordings were made.

Amelita met Piazzolla in the 60s on the occasion of his visit to the venue where Tarantino played, she happened to sing folklore there. Astor became interested in her and in her voice. “Que linda voz tenes piba” he used to tell her. Soon thereafter they began composing “Maria de Buenos Aires,” the operita which will be  staged in October at Teatro Cervantes.

After the performances Piazzolla, Ferrer and Baltar used to go to Bachin, a restaurant that no longer exists. The lyrics of Chiquilin de Bachin were inspired by the children who came late at night selling roses. Unlike the legend says (that it was not written about any specific child) this song was written as a sensitive human commentary for all children who had to work at night.

Piazzolla is more admired worldwide than in Argentina as I can tell by the many chamber music ensembles and symphonic orchestras that play his music abroad.

He was not only revolutionary in his music; he also broke away from the dress code of tango directors. In 1972 he began using black shirt and pants instead of suit and tie.

I always knew that when “Balada para un loco” was presented at Luna Park did not win first price. People in the audience whistled. I always knew that the next day people of were singing it in the streets. Tonight I learn the “inside” of the story: Amelita says that people were organized to whistle because the song it mentions calles Arenales and Callao which are in an upscale district. It was a major departure from singing to Sur, as traditional tangos had so far done. Amelita said she has kept secret the names of the three organizers of the boycott who are still around. Furthermore, she explained that people were instructed to whistle but, as we know, porteños tend to take things further and threw objects at the musicians.

The attraction of the program for me was not so much its content, although I learned what books do not say, but being with panelists and audience that had known Piazzolla, had being part of his life. The audience could not keep their mouths shut; they wanted to tell their stories about Astor. As closing the facilitator asked Amelita to do a narration. Instead she sang a stanza from “Balada para un loco” a capella with her so very tango raspy voice and self assurance.

On the way out my eyes met Melita’s. To make contact I asked her if she remembered the name of a café concert, in Recoleta, where I saw her and Piazzolla’s show in the seventies. She did not remember, but invited me to drop by El Vesubio where she has her current show. I said I would. The exchange of words was not important, but the woman to woman connection was.

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