UPFRONT It takes two
Sketch: Barbara Millar
It was a dance of the dispossessed, the marginalised, the immigrant. Later on, it became the dance of defiance to the dictators. The tango is inextricably linked with Argentina. But it also has a huge following in Edinburgh.
The Edinburgh International Tango Festival has just celebrated its eighth anniversary with more than 350 tango enthusiasts attending its weekend of classes, workshops and milongas – the social dances. One of the organisers, Brian Moretta, says that people come to the Edinburgh Tango Festival from all over the UK, and from much further – the USA, Australia, Singapore and Japan, and the huge popularity of the event is down to the fact that anyone can master the tango, no matter what your age or size. ‘It is all about control,’ says Brian, ‘and it is very subtle.’
There is certainly a mix of ages and sizes at the afternoon class run by Ricardo and Jenny Oria in Edinburgh University’s Teviot Row House on Bank Holiday Monday. Their class – posture and embrace for elegant tango walks – has eight couples being put through their paces. Ricardo, from Buenos Aires, has been dancing the tango since he was 13. Jenny took it up as a serious hobby in her early 20s. They met at a milonga in Edinburgh in 2001 and enjoyed a whirlwind romance. Now married and based in Scotland, they travel all over the world to teach their techniques to others.
‘The tango was a dance for people on the edge of society,’ Ricardo explains. ‘People who were displaced from the countryside, immigrants from many different countries. It was the dance of the poor.’ But although the tango was initially frowned upon by the Argentinian middle and upper classes, many well-heeled men also sneaked out to dance the tango. By the beginning of the 20th century, the tango had established a firm foothold in Buenos Aires and soon spread to provincial towns across Argentina and to Uruguay, where it became as much a part of the urban culture as in the city of its birth.
But although most people think of tango as the dance, Ricardo insists that it is about the music first and foremost. The distinctive tango sound is created by an instrument called a bandoneon, a type of big, square concertina, first manufactured in Germany in the mid-1800s and taken to Argentina by German and Italian immigrants. A tango orchestra will feature violins, flute, piano, double bass and sometimes guitars and a clarinet. ‘But there will always be at least two bandoneons,’ says Ricardo. ‘The bandoneon gives the tango its soul.’
In 1913, the Pope – Pius X – declared the tango was immoral and banned Catholics from participating in the dance. But when it became obvious to him that it was too popular to ban, he tried a different tack and derided it as ‘one of the dullest things imaginable’. That approach didn’t work either and soon Europe was taking to the tango too. As Argentine beef was exported to Paris and other European capitals in the 1920s, the tango was also on the menu. The dance appeared in movies and tango singers travelled the world. By the 1930s, Argentina had become one of the 10 richest nations in the world and music, poetry and culture flourished, with the tango as the fundamental expression of Argentinian culture.
But it disappeared from view once more, during the dark days of the late 70s and early 80s, when a right-wing coup overthrew president Isabel Peron and established a military junta which controlled Argentina for over seven years. Tango and politics go hand in hand, says Ricardo. ‘In a democracy, the tango flourishes. For many people it is a freedom of expression. During the period of the junta, people still danced the tango, but it was underground, no-one could know.’
For Annette and Stewart Brown, up from Malvern for the weekend, the history is of little importance. The couple, married for 40 years, took up the tango two years ago because it was a hobby they could pursue together. ‘We hadn’t danced since school,’ says Annette. ‘Then a friend, a tango DJ in Torquay, bought us tickets for a milonga, so we had to go to classes beforehand, in order to take part. We were hooked.’
This is their first time at the Edinburgh event and they say they will be back. ‘We’ve been to five classes and all the afternoon and evening dances,’ Stewart says, ‘and when you get it right it is like a meditation. There is a real connection’. The couple, in their early 70s, also like the dance because it is not age-restricted. ‘You get people dancing the tango from ages 18-80,’ Annette points out. ‘It is completely inclusive of older people and some of the best dancers are the older ones, because they are the more skilled.’
Stewart holds his wife like a piece of precious china as they slowly move around the floor. She has her eyes closed as they wait for the next beat of the music to inspire their steps. Tango steps are led and followed in an improvised way, Ricardo explains. Through the embrace, the leader will offer invitations to the follower as to where and how to step. The follower decides in what way they will accept the leader’s invitations. Both leader and follower try to maintain harmony and connection through the embrace and with the music. Men tend to be the leaders and women the followers – but roles can reverse, they can switch.
‘It is all based on the caminata – the walk,’ says Ricardo. ‘The dance is a conversation. You have to surrender to the music, give yourself. Most people who dance tango are looking for that connection, when you feel the embrace, and move together.’
I tell Ioanna Tsakiri, one of the organisers, that my dad was good at the tango. In fact, he was such a terrific dancer that his nickname was ‘Tang’ and, at the works’ dinner dances that were such a feature of Christmases in the 1960s, I used to watch my 6’ plus, 16 stone dad with a belly, whisk my 4’11″, eight stone mum around the floor with ease. This is a cardinal error. ‘That is the ballroom tango,’ cries Ioanna in horror. ‘Not the same thing at all. The ballroom tango is choreographed. The Argentinian tango is all about improvisation.’ It is also about constant learning and improving, and the more you dance, the more you will learn. ‘If you like it you will want to dance tango every day,’ Ioanna insists.
Even dancers who themselves teach have masters to whom they look for inspiration. Jenny and Ricardo’s masters – Gloria and the late Rodolfo Dinzel – were one of only four couples dancing professionally throughout the dictatorship, and Rodolfo inspired them both with his explanation that tango is one plus one equals one.
Jenny tells the class that they need to sustain the shape of ‘heart to heart’ – a real closeness of the upper bodies – as they dance. ‘Don’t hang off his hand,’ she instructs, ’embrace him confidently, make yourself comfortable, find the connection. And don’t walk like John Wayne’. She has the slim, lithe body of a dancer and a poker-straight back, but the eye is inevitably drawn to her well-muscled calves. ‘I have been told I have the legs of a footballer,’ she jokes.
Ricardo instructs everyone to change partners – some of the participants, like Annette and Stewart, are clearly together, others have come on their own. You can learn much from dancing with different partners, says Jenny. But Stewart won’t let go of Annette. She takes his embrace, closes her eyes and they are off once more, in a world of their own, lost to the music, totally immersed in this vibrant, playful, passionate, intimate dance.
By Barbara Millar | June 2015
