Di Sarli, Carlos [1903 - 1960]
Carlos Di Sarli was born on 7th January, 1903, in Bahía Blanca, a seaside town some 300 miles south of Buenos Aires. His parents were Michelle Di Sarli, an Italian, and Serafina Russomano from Uruguay. The family ran a gunsmith business and at the age of thirteen, the young Carlos was accidentally shot in the head by an employee, damaging the optic nerve. This is the reason behind the characteristic dark glasses which he invariably wore for the rest of his life.
Di Sarli is renowned for elegant, expressive tangos and very beautiful melodies. Initially his musical style was much influenced by Fresedo. The first tango he composed was Meditación in about 1919, but he never recorded it. Bahia Blanca, named after his home town is one of his finest and best loved numbers. Other key compositions include Corazon, Milonguero viejo, Nido gaucho, Porteño y bailarin, Whisky, Verdemar and Otra vez carnaval, whilst his recordings of Tangos such as El ingeniero, Germaine, Nueve puntos, Siete palabras, Tristeza marina, Vamos and Viviani are typical of his style and a delight to dance to. He is less well know for Valses, whilst, in my opinion, his Milongas lack the rhythmic bite and clarity of, say, D’Arienzo, an inevitable by-product of his emphasis on melody and phrasing.
He studied classical piano as a child at the local Conservatory, but at the age of 13 he started touring with a Spanish musical comedy company, visiting several Argentine provinces, playing popular music and tangos, much to the disgust of his teacher and his father. Shortly after he debuted as soloist at a biógrafo (cinema) and at a tearoom in the city of Santa Rosa.
In 1919 he assembled his first orchestra to play at a tearoom in Bahia Blanca, marking the real beginning of a long and celebrated career as a band leader. In 1923 he arrived in Buenos Aires with his brother Roque, where he joined the band of bandoneonist Anselmo Aieta.
After playing with a number of other bands, he formed his first sextet in 1927, performing at different tearooms and the following year he signed his first contract with RCA-Victor. In a career spanning several decades his peak as a composer and leader was probably in the 1940s, although El Señor del Tango (The Lord of Tango) as he was known, received wide acclaim until the end of his life. He made his last record for Phillips in 1958, two years before his death.
Laurenz, Pedro [1902 – 1972]
Pedro Laurenz started learning the violin as a child, but at the age of fifteen he was introduced to the bandoneon and went on to become one of the greatest bandoneon players of all time, playing with other Greats including Donato and De Caro. In De Caro’s orchestra, he sat alongside the other great bandoneon player of the period, Pedro Maffia, with whom he colaborated extensively as performer and composer.
As a bandleader his output was amazingly small, but he certainly made up in quality for any lack of quantity. He only recorded some sixty-odd tracks, but many consider that his first recording, Arrabal, in 1937, heralded the beginning of the Golden Age of Tango. Listening to it today, it is amazingly ahead of its time compared to many of its contemporaries, and wonderfully fresh. Other Laurenz compositions (sometimes in conjunction with others, especially De Caro and Maffia) include Amurado, Berretín, Mala junta, Mal de amores, Milonga de mis amores and Orgullo criollo.
Overall, it is the pure musicality of Laurenz that is so delightful, with every musical element – melody, harmony, rhythm, phrasing and orchestration – equally valued. To me, he sounds like a more modern version of De Caro.
D’Arienzo, Juan [ 1900 – 1976]
Do you know that bit on Desert Island Disks, where they say “if seven of your eight records were washed away, and you could only keep one, which would it be?” Well, for a lot of serious Tango dancers, I believe that choice would be Juan D’Arienzo. Whether serious Tango musicians would make the same choice is a different matter.
Another violinist turned band leader, D’Arienzo started performing in 1919. However, his rise to fame came in 1935 when Biagi joined his band as pianist. Under Biagi’s influence the band re-established a strong 2/4 time, in contrast to the distinctly smoother 4 beat style. (When Biagi later formed his own orchestra, this almost visceral use of 2/4, with highly emphasized syncopations, became even more extreme).
This intensely rhythmic style became immensely popular – the term “electric rhythm” was coined to describe it. During the Golden Age of the 1940s, whilst the elegant Di Sarli was charming the more bourgeois audiences in the fashionable northern Barrios of Buenos Aires, D’Arienzo was playing in the down-town dance halls, wowing the dancers with irresistible dance music which was said “to give tango back to the dancers.”
D’Arienzo became known as “el Rey del Compas” – the King of the Beat. Interviewed in 1949 he said:
“In my point of view, tango is, above all, rhythm, nerve, strength and character. I tried to rescue for tango its masculine strength, and today tango has been re-established, our tango, with the vitality of its best times. My major pride is to have contributed to that renaissance of our popular music”.
Our usual experience of Tango music is through hearing it. Now, thanks to You Tube, we can also get a glimpse of D’Arienzo’s unique approach to performing, in this case Loca:
You can then follow links to other truly amazing D’Arienzo performances.
Poignantly, about a week after discovering these clips, I learned that Carlos Lazzari, D’Arienzo’s principal bandoneonist, had died. He is the second bandoneon on the left in the Loca clip (longish dark hair brushed back). He also appeared in the recent Café de los Maestros film.
D’Arienzo continued playing until the end of his life In the early 1970’s he came out of retirement to re-record many of his most famous tracks in stereo. His recording of Milonga de mis Amores (which was used recently by Vincent & Flavia in their Strictly Come Dancing performance) sounds like it was recorded yesterday, and is one of the most gloriously playful Milongas to be heard, anywhere.
Having taken a couple of days away from the musicians to sort out the new format and style of the Blog, we return today with:
De Caro, Julio [1899 – 1980]
Julio De Caro was born in Buenos Aires to a family of Italian origin, the second of twelve children. His father had been director of the La Scala Conservatory in Milan, and wanted his sons to receive a formal musical education at university level. The authoritarian father had decided that Julio would study piano and his brother, Francisco, violin. He also wanted Julio to study medicine. But the boys decided otherwise: they exchanged instruments and took up Tango. In the ensuing row, Julio was thrown out of the family home, starting a rift that would never be healed.
His first full orchestra made its debut in 1924 at the Café Colón and they were immediately hired to perform at the aristocratic Vogue club. At the same time, they inaugurated the Chantecler cabaret, and soon afterwards started a long career around the most important Buenos Aires cinemas. During this early stage the influence of Pedro Maffia’s bandoneon was very noticeable.
During 1924 they also made their first recordings for the Victor record label. The technicians at Victor created a cornet violin for de Caro. This had a small gramophone horn to amplify the sound, so that live performances could be heard better in the absence of electric amplification.
As the orchestra’s personnel changed Pedro Laurenz, also destined to become a great Tango Bandleader, joined the orchestra on Bandoneon.
De Caro caused something of a revolution, bringing a new complexity and elegance to Tango music, slowing the pace a little, and bringing a richness to the combination of melody, harmony, rhythm and orchestration, that had been hitherto unknown in the world of Tango. This approach was summarised in the phrase “tango is also music”, and demanded new levels of musicianship from the players.
His continued experimentation with different instrumentation eventually started to blur the edges of what was and what was not considered authentic Tango. This caused something of a rift with the Old Guard of Tango.
His approach was fundamentally instrumental, as opposed to vocal, and so he was reluctant to accept the growing importance of the role of the Singer in Tango orchestras in the 1940’s. As a result, during this, the principle decade of the “Golden Age of Tango”, de Caro did not record for five years.
Between 1949 and 1953 he recorded 38 tunes for Odeon. Apart from some new numbers. he re-recorded his earlier music using the more modern and better equipment now available. These later recordings, therefore, represent an extremely important musical legacy.
Apart from having created one of the most important and influential Tango orchestras of all time, it is important not to forget his contribution as a composer, with titles including Boedo, Colombina, Copacabana, Chiclana, El arranque, El bajel, El monito, Guardia vieja, La rayuela, Loca ilusión, Mala junta, Mala pinta, Mi queja, Moulin rouge, Orgullo criollo, Tierra querida, Tiny and Todo corazón.
De Caro shared his birthday, 11th December, with Carlos Gardel. This day was declared The Day of Tango in honour of the two great men.
Fresedo, Osvaldo [1897 – 1984]
For once, a Tango Maestro whose life story is not one of “rags to riches”, Osvaldo Fresedo was born to a wealthy Buenos family. He took up the bandoneon at about the age of ten, and during his early career he played in small groups (sometimes with his brother) in the local cafés. In 1917 he played in orchestras directed by Canaro and Firpo, forming his own group for the first time the following year. This group included the violinist Julio de Caro who was also to become a famous bandleader.
Fresedo’s career was long – spanning over sixty years and some 1,200 recordings. His style, possibly influenced by his background, was elegant and aristocratic, and his music became very popular in the fashionable upper circles of Buenos Aires society.
At one point he was so popular he had five orchestras on the go at once, and would rush between venues where his bands were playing in order to put in an appearance. One of these orchestras, was directed from the piano by the young Carlos Di Sarli whose own elegant musical style was clearly influenced by him.
Some consider he was at his best in the early 1930’s, but that his style became too sugary and cloying in later years. His was in many ways the “Palm Court Orchestra” of Tango.
He was quite adventurous with orchestration and was known to introduce harp, vibraphone and even use drums with discretion. He was also careful to select singers who would complement his refined style.
Although not primarily regarded as a composer, he was productive and popular. His better known compositions include Aromas, Arrabalero, De academia, El espiante, El once, Pimienta, Por qué, Ronda de ases, Si de mi te has olvidado, Siempre es carnaval, Sollozos, Tango mío, Vida mía and Volverás.
I am particularly fond of his recording of En la huella del dolor.
On Monday . . . Donato
Gardel, Carlos [ 1890 – 1935]
Almost all the Tango Greats in these articles were bandleaders, composers and instrumentalists. Carlos Gardel, the greatest Tango icon of all time, was primarily a singer.
If you want to engage an Argentinean in a friendly argument, one of the easiest ways is to ask where Gardel was born. Never was an immigrant more warmly embraced by his adopted nation! Some Uruguayans claim he was born there, but the little official evidence that exists indicates he was born in Toulouse, France. Most of the Argentineans I have asked claim he was Buenos Aires born and bred. Gardel himself was always delightfully coy on the subject. He would reply with his characteristic and disarming smile “I was born in Buenos Aires at the age of four.”
In 1917 he recorded Mi Noche Triste. Gardel was already a famous folk singer, and sang the story of the abandoned lover with passion and pain The triumph was immense. Tragic love became the backbone of the Tango repertoire, and Gardel’s journey to immortality had begun. On the way he was to transform Tango, the dance of boredellos and backstreet tenements, into a song style and genre loved by all social classes and the backbone of Argentine popular culture.
His rise to fame coincided with the first period of tango’s golden age and the development of tango-canción (tango song) in the 1920s and 30s. The advent of radio, recording and film all helped his career – he recorded some nine hundred songs and starred in numerous films, notably The Tango on Broadway in 1934. But nothing helped him more than his own glorious voice – a voice that was born to sing Tango and which became the model for all future Tango singers.
His rags to riches story, his warm personality and his tragic death in a plane crash at the age of 44, all added to the legend, elevating Gardel to the position of one of the world’s great popular heroes, and an enduring symbol of Buenos Aires.
On many of his recordings, like most tango singers of the day, Gardel sang to guitar rather than orchestral accompaniment. This factor, plus the fact that many would consider it sacrilegious to dance to the revered voice of the Maestro, mean that Gardel is rarely, if ever, heard at Milongas. Another Tango legend is that he sang Adios Muchachos on the aircraft steps just before the fateful flight. Since then many Argentine musicians consider it bad luck to play it.
His renown continues to this day. His image is still everywhere in Buenos Aires – on plaques and huge murals and in record-store windows. You will frequently hear the strains of a Gardel song from an open window, in a café or from a taxi driver’s radio. Admirers pay homage to his life-sized bronze statue in the Chacarita cemetery by placing a lighted cigarette between his fingers, or a red carnation in his buttonhole.
Firpo, Roberto [1884 – 1969]
Alongside Canaro, Firpo was the other Great of the first decades of the twentieth century. Born in the Las Flores district of Buenos Aires, he left school at 15 to work in his father’s grocery store. But he had fallen in love . . . with the piano. Keen to buy his first instrument he took on other jobs – bricklayer, milkman, labourer at a shoe factory and at the Vasena foundry - to save the then huge sum of 200 Pesos to buy his own piano.
At 19 he started lessons with one of the greats of the period, Alfredo Bevilacqua and four years later, in 1913, he began composing and performing.
During his career Firpo played in most of the famous Buenos Aires Tango venues, whilst his best known compositions include: Alma de bohemio, Argañaraz, De pura cepa, Didi, El ahorcado, El amanecer, El apronte, El bisturí, El compinche, El gallito, El rápido, Fuegos artificiales, La carcajada, Marejada, Montevideo, Sentimiento criollo and Vea Vea.
It was Firpo who made a “hit” of La Cumparsita, having obtained the score from a young Uruguayan composer whom he only knew as Gerardo. (Years later Gerardo Matos Rodriquez was to spend over twenty years in court battles trying to regain his rights as the author of the most famous tango in the world! He did eventually earn some royalties from it).
In 1930 Firpo gave up his tango career for a short while to try his hand at cattle ranching, but he was forced to return to Tango after floods decimated his stock and he lost the rest of his fortune on the stock market.
Always considered to be a musical conservative – part of the La Guardia Vieja (the Old Guard), he was evolutionary rather than radical. Whilst many different grouping of instruments were used to play Tango – largely a question of what was available – a classic line up of instruments evolved as the “Orquesta Tipica”, largely due to his pioneering work. The rhythm was played on piano and double bass, melodies on the bandoneon and the violin, with strong counter melodies and variations.
His style is elegant and melodic, with long phrases played in a legato style, making his music sound deceptively modern.
Canaro, Francisco [1868 – 1964]
Born in Uruguay in poverty, Canaro rose to fame and riches through music, and Tango.
He constructed his first violin himself, from an oil can and a piece of wood, but went on to create the first truly famous Tango Orchestra, make thousands of recordings (estimates vary up to 7000) and produce a number of successful musicals.
Responsible for a number of innovations – for example, in 1924 he introduced a Singer into the Tango Orchestra, he also pioneered the introduction of the Double Bass. He has many Tango compositions to his name, although there is some doubt how many he actually wrote himself. His successful compositions include Charamusca, El chamuyo, El opio, El pollito, Envidia, La brisa, La tablada, La última copa, Madreselva (previously called La polla”) Mano brava, Nobleza de arrabal, Se dice de mí, and Sentimiento gaucho.
As for dancing to his orchestra, we need to remember when many of his numbers were recorded. I would describe them as delightful rather than inspiring. Many have a very steady 4 /4 rhythm, making them easy to dance to. The style of violin playing has changed a lot – in the first half of the twentieth century much more Portamento (sliding between notes) was used than today, and even allowing for differences in recording quality, the playing was less powerful and direct, and more delicate, than modern performances.
Two of my favourite Canaro performances are Poema and Perfume de mujer.
We have recently been working in our classes on how to adjust your dance to different styles and musicians, and this has prompted a request for more background information on the main players (pun intended!) Having also promised articles on individual musicians in a previous Post, I thought we ought to make a start.
So, over the next couple of weeks, my aim is to write one outline per day, covering the major Tango Greats of the twentieth century.
They are in chronological order of birth, although this doesn’t always reflect how “old” or “modern” their music sounds. It’s important to remember that some of them had very long careers, so there were inevitably changes in style over time, different musicians in their orchestras, as well as huge advances in the technology available to record them. Remember also the turbulent cultural and political background in Argentina, which meant that the history of Tango was not the relatively smooth, continuous time-line we tend to take for granted in the UK.
There’s also the difficult question of where to draw the line, and I’ve chosen to leave out some who are known to Tango buffs, but not generally considered to be among the greats. So, apologies if you’re a fan of the likes of Gobbi, Malerba, Lomuto (which one?) Tanturi, Varela, etc. etc.
Meanwhile, here’s my list.
Canaro, Francisco [1868 – 1964]
Firpo, Roberto [1884 – 1969]
Gardel, Carlos [1890 – 1935]
Donato, Edgardo [1897 – 1963]
Fresedo, Osvaldo [1897 – 1984]
De Caro, Julio [1899 – 1980]
D’Arienzo, Juan [1900 – 1976]
Laurenz, Pedro [1902 – 1972]
Di Sarli, Carlos [1903 – 1960]
Pugliese, Osvaldo [1905 – 1995]
Biagi, Rodolfo [1906 – 1969]
Caló, Miguel [1913 – 1985]
Troilo, Anibal [1914 – 1975]
Piazzolla, Astor [1921 – 1992]
- and tomorrow . . . Canaro
I recently acquired – not totally by choice, I have to say – a CD of 25 – yes twenty five – versions of La Cumparsita! This is almost as priceless as the 200 versions of Adios Nonino on the Piazzolla.org website.
However iconic a piece of music, when you hear it too often it becomes devalued, and La Cumparsita, not my favourite Tango in the first place, just loses its sparkle. It’s a bit like the slow movement of the Rodrigo Concerto De Aranjuez or the Flower Duet from Delibes’ Lakme, as immortalised (?) in the Britsh Airways ads – lovely music that deserves a break.
This CD – aptly titled LA CUMPARSITA, EL HIMNO DEL RIO DE LA PLATA (The Anthem of the Rio de Plata) – spans versions from 1917 (the original Roberto Firpo) to 1967. It even includes a version by Piazzolla which, ironically, is typically unsuitable for dancing to. My favourites here have to be the Di Sarli and D’Arienzo versions from the 1950s. Even La Cumparsita cannot take away from their pure danceability. The CD doesn’t have my all-time favourite though – the Orquesta Tipica Brunswisk who make the intro last a whole 1minute 20 seconds before even they have to succumb to the inevitable familiar theme.
So, I can now add all of these to the dozen or so La Cumparsitas I have to confess I already own. Shall we have a whole Tanda of them at the next Milonga?