Tango 1931
Dag Stenvoll and Michael Lavocah · 2021-03-31 · 4:07:30
Stenvoll and Lavocah take 1931 as a year of Depression and crisis: Villa 31 is founded behind Retiro, labels are going bust, and Di Sarli loses his Victor contract and falls back to accompanying singers until 1939. The big three orchestras are Fresedo, Firpo and Canaro (with Lomuto's help), and the music takes on a darker, slower edge: Fresedo, famous for sweetness, shows the Depression most, and Firpo is in a sad mood after losing money. It is also a great year for women singers (12 or 13 recorded) and Spanish-flavoured tango, and a year of sextets that are about to be pruned away by the recording crisis of 1931-32. The afterparty adds Canaro in the good-bad-ugly slot, Charlo, Minotto Di Cicco, a Juan Maglio tanda and a long stretch of Fresedo.
What this episode gave Tangopedia
Facts said in the episode, each now cited to the minute it is said.
The Great Depression reached Argentina late because agricultural exports insulated it in 1929; by 1931 Villa 31, a slum behind Retiro station, was opened for Polish immigrants sleeping in goods carriages.
Many labels are about to go bust and many artists have been dropped; Di Sarli loses his contract and ends up backing Mercedes Carné.
Canaro made about 180 recordings in 1931 while Di Sarli made perhaps ten; the sweetness is mixed with playful tangos for dancing.
A brothel tango from about 1870 by Casimiro Alcorta; Francisco Canaro published the score as 'arranged by' him, and Di Sarli's version is now the best known.
Fresedo shows the effects of the Depression more than any other orchestra: slow, spacious and melancholic, with a 1931 sound unlike his sweet 1940s one and unlike his earlier 20s music.
Records played · 39
Transcript
Transcribed by machine from the audio, then punctuated; names may be misheard. Tap any line to hear it. The episode is in English, and so is its transcript.
Some pretty suggestive lyrics there, Michael, from your compatriot Harry Roy. There wasn't too much censorship in Great Britain at the time, was it? No, what was it? The Hays Code that came in and restricted what could be put in films in the United States. That changed things quite a lot, but no, this is meant to be a serious show, Dag, and this is a serious year.
So you've introduced it perfectly. Good evening. Good evening, everyone. Nice to see you and, uh, despite this, uh, comic intro, uh, 1931 wasn't such a fun year, was it, Michael, for Buenos Aires or for the world? And the password for this event is crisis, and the photo shows some rather gloomy musicians playing on the street outside the railway station Buenos Aires. So what's happening in the tango capital at this time?
What's happening in the tango capital? The great depression has been grinding on and it's become a lot more intense. Maybe you know or remember the stock market crash in Wall Street was in 1929, but at the beginning Argentina was insulated by its agricultural exports. So in 1929 the crash didn't really affect things too much, but by 1931 things are getting pretty bad, and I'll give you one example of that. A new slum district was opened up behind the Retiro, I believe, railway station in Buenos Aires, with Polish immigrants largely sleeping in railway cars, in train carriages for goods, and it's still there today. It's called, if I say it in English, Villa 31. Villa is a name given to very poor districts, very poor barrios, and Villa 31, inaugurated, if that's the right word, for a slum in 1931, and it's still there, and it's one of the dodgiest districts. So times are tough, a lot of record labels are about to go bust. They're hanging on by the skin of their teeth, but lots of artists have already been got rid of. Di Sarli's lost his contract, he's going to wind up as a backing orchestra for Mercedes Carné.
Chapter · 2:15
Villa 31 began in 1931
Buenos Aires's best-known slum was founded in the year of this recording.
“The great depression has been grinding on and it's become a lot more intense.”
And what else can we tell you, musically speaking, what can you hear in the music? Well, we've already covered 1929 and 1930. We've got a big three orchestras in this time. Not a big four for 40s but a big three, and it's a different big three. Fresedo, Firpo and Canaro. I feel that maybe 1929 is Canaro's best year. Lomuto has come on board singing for Canaro and for Lomuto and this has really raised the level. It's very sweet music, but in 1931 it starts to get a bit less sweet. You can hear a little harsh martial edge creeping in, and another orchestra which affects more profoundly is that of Fresedo, but now I'm probably getting ahead of ourselves.
I think that's a good introduction to the year as a whole. Yeah, excellent. And, um, well, I think what I wrote also in the description is that, uh, the kind of hard situation economically and socially in Buenos Aires maybe it was good for tango, because I really feel there's a lot of really good stuff from this year, even though, as you say, the, uh, there's a crisis and some bands are losing their contract. There's some edge to the music and some, uh, some, um, dark undertones, I think, to a lot of the music that appeals to me at least, and I hope it does to you as well. I like a little bit of darkness.
For Fresedo is the standard orchestra in terms of this dark undertone coming in to colour his music. And maybe that's a surprise as well, that it should be Fresedo who shows the effects of the Great Depression more than any other orchestra, when he himself is known for his sweetness, the light, sweet nature of his music in the 1940s, and was also from a rich background, so he was personally not affected.
One of the songs of the year, a Discépolo composition of 1930 recorded at least ten times in 1930-31; this one is led by Carabelli with the violin forward.
Well, let's listen to some music, and I want to start with a confession, Confesión. One of the songs of the year, magnificent. Troller Ruiz. Yeah, and we were listening to Troller Reese in the tango 1947, but this is like, this is an Enrique Discepolo composition from 1930, I think, and it was recorded at least 10 times in '30-'31, and I'd like to play, and you to listen to one of the recordings, uh, by the Victor recording house orchestra, Orchestra Typical Portenya. This was directed by, uh, Alfredo Carabelli, who also had his own band, and, uh, I guess he was leading the OTV was for, wasn't he? But, uh, but I like it by this one is the violin from the very first moment. Yeah, the violin. Yeah, from the first moment. Yeah.
We won't mention the name just yet, but you will recognize, we promise. Listen to this. So it's Orcesia Typica Proteña, Confesión, and the singer is Teófilo Ibáñez.
Beautiful version of Vadara's violin and just hanging on one or two tones, just so much emotion. It's extraordinary how he does it. And what makes it a great track is that he's matched by everything else. So, for example, in the 1927 show, we listened to the orchestra of Juan Guido and Vodaro's working as a session musician. And that's not so satisfying because when Vodaro enters then, the whole level of everything increases because it's him. And then when he stops playing, the level falls back again because the orchestra's not as interesting, the music's not as interesting, the interpretation is not as interesting. But that's not true here. The orchestra's got lots of great musicians and it's a really wonderful tango as well. But yes, extraordinary how he makes so much interest musically with one note, as Troilo does with the band and Yon. Beautiful.
Yeah, it's true. Reminds me of the same, like just holding and transferring emotion through this one or two tones. Fantastic. Uh, let's move on to Carabelli, who was the directing this officer at the time, and he has, he had his own, and I want to play a Mentira, which is a composition best known from Pulizzi Moran from the mid-40s, and there are lots of versions, but this is one of the first recordings. It was, uh, it was composed this year, I think, Ventura, I'm not sure, but I think it's again on the violin. Yeah, I think so. So, and the singer is Carlos Lafuente. Listen to this.

One of the first recordings of a tango best known from Pugliese and Morán in the mid-1940s.
Good stuff. The band is in top form. Yeah, but Aro is very recognisable, as you always say. It's a special feeling to his tone. Yes, the timbre has a unique quality. And again, there he's matched by the other members of the band. Killer band union section, wonderful piano playing, interesting arrangement, the triplets right at the beginning, and again at the end. Quite a contrast to Pugliesi with Moran, huh? Extremely, yeah. Should have played that after. Try to make a tanda out of those two.
Yeah, uh, all right. You said in introduction that, uh, one of the three, the three big, uh, big ones, great three in this year was Francisco Canaro, uh, but there was only about 180 recordings this year, which is not so much for him, at least, slacker in fact, actually. And I find there's a lot of really cute playful tangos that I like dancing to and some nice waltzes, but when I said listening to him preparing for this show I, I thought, hmm, you know, one thing is to dance to these tracks, but, uh, another thing is listening through them. So, um, I'm gonna skip him actually and go straight to his brother Juan Canaro, so I'll leave something for the after party, Michael, if you know Canaro.
No, Francisco Canaro, you just, well, there will be Canaro, Juan Canaro, well, we'll get, we'll go to, uh, to a track after Juan Canaro, we'll go to a track where, uh, Francisco is backing someone. So, uh, but Let's listen to Juan Canaro. We never played anything of Juan Canaro before on Tangled by Year.

Stenvoll skips Francisco Canaro and picks his brother Juan; a very old tango, originally from 1870 by Casimiro Alcorta and later published by Francisco Canaro.
No. So it's his brother. And I think he lived in Paris, didn't he? That's where he was recording. Or what can you say about Juan Canaro? Well, the Canaro family was run like a franchise system, like McDonald's. I exaggerate. When Canaro went on his world tour and tried to leave a band everywhere he went, and he would leave one of his brothers in charge. So he travelled initially with... Everywhere even. He travelled initially with Rafael and Juan to Paris and then Rafael was left in charge of the Paris Orchestra and then they travelled on to the United States with the idea that Juan would run the orchestra there but they weren't a success and they didn't like the States so they came away and Juan Canaro, as opposed to Rafael, Rafael remained in France for many years. Juan ended up being a touring orchestra, making tours around South America frequently in these years.
Yeah, I was intrigued by one of the tracks I listened to called Cara sucia, Dirty Face, which is a song we know also from Canaro Maida, I think, but I associated more with this early later instrumental. Yes, so this is a super old song, a super old brothel tango originally from 1870, composed by a guy called Casimiro Alcorta. And after he died, Canaro published the sheet music with the phrase arranged by Francisco Canaro on the cover. Now, we can look at that in two ways. Canaro did have a habit of buying or borrowing compositions from other composers. But in this case, we can be a bit more generous and say, the guy had died and he just wanted to spread the composition and protect the copyright. Let's be generous. So it's appeared with the cleaned up title, Cara sucia, because the thing that was dirty before was not the face.
Chapter · 18:20
The king of sweet goes dark
Fresedo's 1931 sound is nothing like his 1940s sweetness.
So then it becomes associated with Francisco Canaro and then finally for us we think of it as Di Sarli and it really is extraordinary if you think about its origins, a tango that's over 150 years old now, a brothel tango clearly, and yet the pre-eminent interpretation is won by the master of elegance, refinement and nobility, Carlos Di Sarli. You'd never have guessed it. It's extraordinary what Di Sarli can do when he puts his mind to it, but that's not what we're going to be hearing now. No, this is a different one, but I like it. It's more, uh, I'd say it's more advanced or at least more varied than Francisco Canaro's songs at the time, so I think it's more interesting to listen to, and the singer is Ernesto Famá, which is also nice. Um, yeah, should we hear it? Let's hear it. Juan Canaro, Cara sucia, with Ernesto Famá singing.
A Canaro-brand tango Stenvoll finds more varied than Canaro's usual songs of the time.
What's with the violin? It's an interesting sound from that. I don't know. Is it a normal violin? I've heard that before, and I don't know what's going on with that violin sound. Sorry, can't explain. There's a bit of a theme with the naughty lyrics, isn't it? Naughty ear. When the Brexit thing was at its height, I noticed that I'd started swearing a lot more, it was a symptom of stress, so maybe this is also a symptom of the impending crisis that people start singing more songs with, um, what's the word, dubious lyrics. Could be, could be. Yeah, um, yeah, and I was thinking about, uh, like 10, 50 years later when much less dubious lyrics were censored in Argentina. So times were changing in a different direction than we should think.
Anyway, let's move on to Francisco Canaro, but as a backing band for Ada Falcón. And I really want us to hear the Discepola waltz, Sueño de Juventud, which was one of the big hits this year. At least nine recordings. Yeah. This is really a beautiful piece. I like that one, Michael. I like it. It is. I always have a...
So we're in 1931. 1931 is the year that Carlos Di Sarli loses his recording contract at RCA Victor. Why am I mentioning that? Because Di Sarli was a good friend of Discepolo. And Discepolo was one of these autodidact geniuses. He couldn't actually write down music so he'd just be mucking around or just imagining or singing to himself, he'd come up with a fantastic tune and then he would run to one of his friends and sing it to them and get them to write down the music for him. So Soy un arlequín, when the melody for that came into his head, he got Di Sarli to write it down, so we can be sure that Di Sarli would have been performing Sueño de Juventud. How can we be sure? Because it's in his repertoire later on. There are three recordings, is it three, at least two anyway. Yeah, it's more than any waltz you ever recording. Yeah, I think it's his favorite waltz that he loves it and feels a connection to it. We can be sure then it was in the repertoire of the Di Sarli orchestra in late 1931, but he loses his contract and we can't listen to that version. We just have to imagine.
Chapter · 23:50
The year Di Sarli lost his contract
In 1931 Di Sarli was dropped by his label.
And yeah, it's a waltz that a lot of the bands take a very slow pace as well, not really a dancing pace. So it's a waltz tragedy, isn't it? Not at all. The lyric is so tragic, the complete opposite feeling of the creole waltz. Sueño de juventud que muere en tu adiós. The dream of youth which dies with your goodbye. That's really tough stuff, wow. And the good thing about this Ada Falcón uh sung version is that you get a whole lyrics, that's nice. And also I wanted to say, I didn't say in the beginning, but 1931 is really a great year for women singers, and I think I counted 12 or 13 different, uh, women recording either as solo artists or with an orchestra, and, uh, we'll listen to, uh, well, at least seven or eight of them, I think. And the other is our first.
Yeah, just generally speaking, this era is much better than the 40s for the female vocalists because it's a better era for soloists in general, regardless of their gender. By the 40s, that's no longer true. People want to hear orchestra singers, cantor de orquesta, singing integrated with the típica, and it becomes very difficult to launch a career as a new person, a new artist, as a soloist. But at this time, the soloists are as important as the típicas. People are not dancing quite so much as they will later. You can go to the theatre and listen to someone like Adolfo Alcon, Azucena Maizani, Ruzidi Kiroga, as you sit down in a theatre seat and they perform on the stage. A different time.
So let's get into the mood of the times and listen to Sueño de Juventud, Dream of Youth, with Ada Falcón, and she's backed here by Francisco Canaro.

A Di Sarli favourite waltz that he returned to at least twice later; Lavocah says the melody came from a composer who could not write music and had Di Sarli write it down.
Wonderful and great backing, as someone wrote, by the orchestra. They really stay down and let's her voice come to the forefront. I'm a bit stunned listening to that. I'm a bit stunned. It's taken at such a slow pace and yet she manages to sustain the melody, and with wonderful dynamic, wonderful modulation of the power of her voice, and a bit less dramatic. I kind of have an association of a drama queen, a diva. I had a fuck on you. Well, she was a diva, but this is not really the performance of a diva, is it? It's something a bit more modest and introvert, very touching performance, yeah.
It's been interesting, and as you said before we heard it, this was uh a Di Sarli favorite and um also he lost this recording contracts this year, but he managed to make a few recordings before he lost it, and uh I want to play uh in my opinion the best one of these, is called Maldita, damned or cursed. Yeah, now this is another one of the big hits this year. Another of the important songs of 1931, Maldita. Maldita mil veces, maldita hasta la muerte. That's what he sings. I curse you or I damn you a thousand times, I damn you to death. The next line is, I don't even want to remember it. It's a bang.
Really strong heavy stuff, and it's of course the same old story of a man cursing the woman who he fell in love with but who left him or something, bound to be, yeah. And this is also with the Ernesto Famá singing that we just heard a bit earlier, and um yeah it's uh it's a strong, strong and um think about the decided beat at this time. You really get this urge to walk and to dance when you hear Di Sarli 1931. So that's the walking beat, it's already there, irresistible, walking, dancing. Let's hear it, Maldita, Carlos Di Sarli with Ernesto Famá singing.

In Stenvoll's opinion the best of Di Sarli's last 1931 recordings before he loses his contract; a man cursing the woman who left him.
♪ Music · 2:07 ·
Nice violin there. Yeah, what do you think, folks? So the violin there is Roberto Guisado, and he's the first violin in the 40s orchestra with a very distinctive sound. The very first recordings of the 40s orchestra, I should say the 1939 orchestra, so Corazón, Catamarca, these ones, there are violin solos. Now, later on, there aren't violin solos because Di Sarli is, first of all, a little bit anti-solo because it's all about everyone working together, unison playing in the strings. And also partly when we get into the 50s, there were so many good violinists in the band that you couldn't really give the solo to one person because you've got other people who could easily be a first violinist. So for those two reasons, not many solos. But here he is, the same guy who plays the violin solo at the end of Corazon. And does it sound like him? I think it does, but I prefer the way he sounds in Corazon.
Another player with a distinctive tone, you recognise a certain quality which is not Vadara's quality, it's a related style but not the same, different one. And as with any sextet, it's easy to hear the individual instruments, but because we're talking about Di Sarli's sextet, that means we could hear the bandagnon a little bit more than we normally do with Di Sarli, so that's a great pleasure as well with that piece. Overall the violins, the two of them together, the string section, as it were, doesn't have quite the richness it's going to get with the orchestra, but there's only two of them.
Yeah, and this is one of the last recordings Di Sarli makes with his success before he loses his contracts. He turns into a backing band, as he said, and then it disappears from the scene for a few years and comes back in 1939. But it's nice to see this. I like this period of this early period of the Di Sarli, it's uh you can sort of already feel the what's coming later and uh it's yeah in many respects complete, particularly with the beat, the walking beat. And imagine that he loses his contract this year and records maybe 10 numbers, and Canaro gets 180 or something. It's not fair, is it? It's not fair, no.
Let's move on and listen to another tango with Ernesto Famá singing, and this was uh this was uh to me before I started preparing for this week, and uh it's with the record company house recording orchestra we have not listened to before, Orquesta Columbia. They just made a very few recordings, and one of them is Nueve de julio, which is the D'Arienzo recording from late 35 that's epic in terms of consider this landmark recording from going from the yeah the transition to the milonguera period with its fast and steady beats. This is funky because there are other sung versions of Nueve de julio, but they're not so interesting for dancers. For example, Agustin Magaldi sings it very, very beautifully. But whatever we say about Magaldi's voice, it's not a dance that makes you want to dance. His voice is not a dancing voice, but Famá's is. So this is a really intriguing version. I like it very much.
A house orchestra that made very few records; the same song D'Arienzo recorded in 1935. Steady rhythm and a lovely violin solo near the end.
Yeah, and it's, I was surprised because it's very, very energetic, it's not as fast as D'Arienzo's of course, but this is like 1931, and it's you can really hear that uh there's something going on here and uh yeah so um yeah interesting. And in addition to the really steady rhythm that you also get, like the answer takes to a new level, there's a beautiful violin solo towards the end, I think, in addition to Famá singing. So let's hear it, Orquesta Columbia, Nueve de julio, with Ernesto Famá singing.
Yeah, there was a band de Nyon solo, the Variacion, there also towards the end. For me, the Variacion really... But the lyrics weren't... For me, the Band de Ññón solo, the Variación, really increased the level, the musical level of the piece and made it more enjoyable, more attractive and more Argentine. At the very beginning, yes, there's a cheerful, attractive beat, but it also sounds a little bit European for me until the Band de Ññón's really got going. So I like it. It's charming, but I'm not in love.
No, and if you compare it to D'Arienzo, of course, it lacks the energy. Well, that's not fair, really, is it? Because we're comparing two different epochs of tango music there. But just comparing that with Best of 1931, I feel a little bit of a European influence. But then we do a little bit as well with the Orquesta Típica Victor, I suppose. But certainly great drive, fun, energetic. Right.
Let's move on to one of the big three this year, Roberto Firpo. And I think it's fair to say that Firpo was in a sad mood this year. It is fair to say. I guess there was something about him. Yeah, he got bankrupt, didn't he? And he had to go back to tango and then... Firpo had a dream. And so things weren't that good, were they? So his recording career started even before Canaro's did. So he's really an old timer. He recorded in 1912 already and had the monopoly of being an orchestra typica with the Odeon label when Canaro was muscling his way in.
Firpo's piece after losing money in the stock market: hardly any beat, a floating melancholy like the melancholy of a ghost.
Anyway, by 1930, he decided that he'd made enough money and he wanted to retire, and he bought a big cattle ranch in the region of Argentina that's recently been affected by wildfires, actually. So along the river Paraná, which is well known for flooding. And in the first year he made a lot of money, but then there were these huge floods and all the cattle were killed and wiped out. So he took the little money that he had left and put it in the stock market. And then that went down again and crashed all his money. In 29. No, it was a later crash. And he had to go back to work.
Chapter · 44:40
Firpo lost it all
Roberto Firpo's next composition was called Deep Sadness.
The thing to note is the title of the first piece that he wrote when he returned to composing, which was Onda triste, Deep Sadness. That's the title. This is the first track I want to play also. Yes, it's incredibly sad. It's incredibly sad. And it's not very typical for Firpo because it doesn't have, it hardly has any beat at all. It's kind of, it's just funeral tango feeling. Well, it's funeral, but it's not there. For me, it has kind of a floating melancholy, like the melancholy of a ghost.
But I would be really interested to feel and hear the reactions of all our guests, because it could well be a piece that they've never heard before because it's not something you're ever going to hear at the milonga. Yeah, it's I would say it's undanceable, of course nothing is undanceable, but it's not something you pronounce DJ because it lacks the Firpo steady beat for walking. Yeah, let's play two Firpo songs. One more thing about Onda triste is if you listen to the piano part that will help you to follow the beat. Okay, yeah, let's do that. And after Onda triste, where it's Príncipe Azul, the blue prince, who's singing, we'll listen to an instrumental with the almost as depressing name Pobre orfanita, poor orphan or girl orphan girl, which is an instrumental. And this is much more typical for Firpo, I think it has a much better beat, or a more and better beat for dancing, I mean. So let's hear those two in a sad mood after the depression and after going bankrupt, Onda triste, deep sadness, and then Pobre orfanita.
An instrumental with a much better beat for dancing than the previous one.
♪ Music · 6:06 ·
Isn't that just fantastic? It's wonderful. I love that song. The thrill of it, I think, arises from the contrast between what's happening with the melody and what's happening with the beat. Because as you were pointing out, oh it's so delicate, there's this delicate moment in these floating tender romantic melodies of Firpo, but then when the beat is coming it's extremely powerful. Yeah. The most powerful rastra or this syncopa that comes in and is so powerful on the basis of this quiet mood.
Beautiful, yes, play more Firpo, people, it's wonderful. It's not the strongest rastra of the time, but it's the strongest walking beat. Canaro has stronger rastra, except they're not part of his beat. So for dancing, this has got the strongest beat of anything at this time. Sensational, yeah. I love the violins also, the wailing, yes, okay, yeah, this dark gut string violence. Yeah, I could have played five more Firpo tracks but we have to move on or it's going to be a really long night.
And let's listen to a waltz by Orquesta Típica Brunswick. They recorded that was called the best of Divinos besos, heavenly kisses, this year. I like it because it's slow, it's introvert, it's melancholic, just as we like him, Michael. Just the way I like them too. I like the Típica Brunswick. I think it's Polito, Juan Polito on piano and directing, and it often in the tango is quite a bouncy beat, but here we'll get something slightly different. So Divinos besos, this is Luis Díaz singing, that's one of the house vocalists I suppose for the recording house, for Brunswick.
A slow, introvert, melancholic waltz without the usual bouncy beat; the ending is very sudden.
Unusual waltz in the sense that the singing was just to the end and then stop. A very sudden ending, yes. Mind you, Di Sarli also has very sudden endings, but he just does it so well that we never notice. Wonderful waltz, very sensual and slow, the Típica Brunswick are excellent. I really enjoy them. Right, let's go on to
Edgardo Donato and I remember in 31 you said something about him changing label in the year. I can't remember if he went to Victor or Brunswick. Do you know who is he with this year?
Well, now he's with Brunswick. Brunswick are about to go bust. They go bust roughly in the middle of 1932, and then there's a gap of about five months, and then he appears on the Victor label at the end of the year with El Huracán as his first recording, which for us really encapsulates his style. So the style of the Donato band at this time is a little different, hasn't quite found his way but very charming indeed.
Yeah, I like it. It's the same heavy beat that you hear from the song just heard, a bit different from the late 30s Donato, much lighter, and you feel like giggling when you hear Donato of late 30s. But this is heavier, and I want to play first a tango called Volvé with a woman singer, Mercedes Carné singing.

A heavy lyric in which a woman loves a man who is awful to her; Lavocah calls it the tango version of Billie Holiday's 'My Man'.
Yes, this is a tango. Have we heard this in another episode of Tango by Year? Or were we just talking about it? It's a tango which if you look at the lyric, the lyric is really heavy. But in a way, this number, folks, is the tango version of Billie Holiday's My Man. Now you all know My Man by Billie Holiday, don't you? But if you really pay attention to the lyric, it's really heavy because she says that this guy that she's got is awful to her but she loves him and that's the only thing that matters and there's something of that quality to this lyric of Volvé. Heavy stuff. I didn't find a look, so maybe if you want you can post it. I will listen to it. I'll see if I can people.
“This number is the tango version of Billie Holiday's 'My Man'.”
Yeah, but I want to play also a second Donato track which intrigued me called Los Piratas. This is with Teófilo Ibáñez singing, as you mentioned, the house vocalist. And I really like this one because it has a cello, which I guess you said earlier is Donato's brother playing cello, and you can really hear it in these early recordings.

Features a cello played by Donato's brother Ascanio; the Donato band was a family band.
Yes, the Donato band is a family band. Edgardo, orchestra leader, violinist, madman, Osvaldo, pianist and Ascanio on the cello. And he seems to be actually the one who wrote the famous Donato Tango TBC, not Edgardo Donato at all, but the cellist that we're going to hear now.
Chapter · 1:00:48
The family band
Three Donato brothers in one orchestra.
All right, great. And there is a nice violin there as well. I think I guess that's Edgardo himself playing the violin. And there's a variation also. So this is an interesting tango that I never heard at Milongas. So let's hear Edgardo Donato with the first Volvé, Mercedes Carné singing and then Los Piratas, the pirates, Teófilo Ibáñez.
“The Donato band is a family band.”
Nice variation there at the end, I think. The variation is really good. There are so many good bandoneon players. And just the beat. Donato's got a fantastic beat in this period. I'd like to hear more of it at the milongas. It's not so easy to find it in good fidelity, but there are a certain number. I think there's like 200 tracks of this period with Donato.
And a bit earlier on in 1929, he co-led an orchestra with another violinist, Zorijo, Roberto Zorijo, but he split in order to accompany the singer Azucena Maizani on a tour in Spain. But even after they've split and before the later period that we know on Victor, there's over 100 tangos. So there are some good ones. And yeah, I enjoyed that very much. Thank you for playing that.
Let's go on to Lomuto and more Tristesse. He has a recording called Musica Triste this year. Sad music. Very good walking beat, I think. There's a beautiful violin solo and really nice piano. How do you say it? Bridges?
Yeah, Lamuto 1931, Michael. What's there to say about him? I can't really come up with something. Yeah, Lamuto 1931. I don't have anything intelligent to say other than, as so often, it's a bit like a heavier version of Canaro, and it's at its best when Charlo is singing. This particular tango that you've chosen now, Musica Triste, that's one that came up on my radar when I was looking at the good music, the good recordings from this year. And what I noted about it was the beautiful violin work. So it sounds like there's going to be plenty of things to enjoy.
Yeah, this is going to be enjoyable. But the second song, I think, is even more enjoyable. It's another instrumental tango. And this, I must say, is one of my favorites from this year. It's called Mar de fondo. Ground swell. I think it means the wave movement that can reach faraway places, I guess is a metaphor for something. Yes.
An instrumental whose whole band stops for a piano interlude; Lavocah calls it bonkers and a challenge to Canaro's more complex sinfónica recordings.
And this one, it starts really ordinary. The first 30 seconds is about, yeah, you wouldn't notice something special. But then you get this wild classical style piano interlude. Then there's a wailing by the one on the own, some piano runs, and the last minutes, last minute is just fantastic, I think.
Mar de fondo is absolutely bonkers, because what Dag has described to you as a piano interlude, I mean the whole band stops and it's just the pianist. And he's not tinkling away. He's going for it. And normally, in your mind, you can kind of predict how long these solos are going to be. So it gets to a certain point and you think, he's done. And he's not done. And he carries on. And he gets madder and madder and madder. And then finally, it's over.
It's the arranger. The arranger for the band in this period is the pianist, a guy called Daniel Alvarez. So it's his moment. And he said, no, Oscar Napolitano. That's right. And he decides I'm going to go mad now. And he does. Oh, what I can tell you is. That explains it. But it's really nice. I mean, 31. Yeah.
And I can add something pertinent about Lamutto in 1931. So Lamutto is also switching record label in 1931. He has been, along with Canaro, on Odeon, and maybe Odeon decide these two bands are too similar, they get rid of Lumoto, and that's okay, and he transfers to the Victor Company. But when he does, he feels the need to compete with Canaro a little bit. So on the discs, instead of Orquesta Typica Lumoto, it says Orquesta Sinfonica Francisco Lumoto. This is competing, first of all, with the Siri Sinfonica recordings that Canaro has been putting out of more complex arranged music. So Lumoto is breaking out of Canaro's shadow fully in 1931. And he's doing it really well, I think. I love these two instrumental tracks and I think it's better than most what Canaro did this year. But that's, of course, a personal opinion, so you might disagree. But let's hear those two: Musica Triste, sad music, and Mar de fondo, both instrumentals.
Played with Mar de fondo; Lavocah says these two are better than most of what Canaro did that year.
Oh, what a variacion. What energy. Superb, isn't it? I've got two comments I'd like to make. One a humorous comment and one a serious comment. So the humorous comment is, here's my theory about what happened during the recording. Another pianist broke into the recording studio, hit Lamuto's pianist over the head, and sat down and just took over, and kept on playing until somebody dragged him away from the piano. This is a serious comment, right?
Well, no, that was the playful comment. But there is a precedent for this. There is a tango. Tango possibly is a Paso Doble. I think maybe it's a Paso Doble called Que Salga El Toro. Let the Bull Come Out. Which is in the Firpo catalogue. And during the recording, Carlos Gardel and José Razzano broke into the recording studio, pretended to be bulls, and charged at the musicians. And made funny noises and stuff, and the record company liked it so much that they kept that version and they printed it. So there is precedent for people breaking into recording studios.
Now, the serious thing I wanted to say is, so in this recording, the piano comes back and you think, he's going to do it again, but he doesn't, does he? And then the song changes gear. It kind of drops down a gear. And then there's this very spacious piano solo. And I typed in the chat window, like Tigre Viejo, because in the construction of the whole piece, I was suddenly reminded of the El Vino Vedaro Tigre Viejo from 1933, where there were these many, many different sections of music, and some of them very full of notes and busy, like the piano we heard before, but then full of space, like that piano solo that actually came at that moment. And then the beautiful bandoneon variación that comes as the climax. So we're not saying this is typical of Lomoto. It's not. They're experimenting, but they recorded it. And this is, it's kind of fleshing out how the scene was as a whole.
We're like archaeologists, aren't we? Trying to understand what music was just from the records, which only represent the top strata, the top stratum of music. So if a band like Lamoto can make something that's got something in common with the band of Vadara, that's really telling us a great deal. It's telling us that the musicians were extremely able and a lot of the time were reining themselves back in because of what they thought was good for dancing or good for selling records.
Yeah, we can only imagine what we like to be at live concert at the time when bands were playing more stuff like this live even. Wow. Get to work on the time machine, Dag. Thank you for playing that. That was sensational.
Great. Let's move to something very different. Tania, that's a vocalist, woman, female singer we've listened to before, Deschepelot's girlfriend from the late 40s when she was singing with Canaro. Yes, at this time even I think they all were together. But she wasn't recording a lot of stuff, but there are two recordings from this era. Mostly backed by Deschepelot. Yeah? Yeah, mostly. Maybe this is the one I'm going to play. It's called Aquel clavel. It's a waltz. I don't know this one, so I'm as curious as everybody else. So you'll be surprised.
A woman sings from a man's point of view; Tania was born in Spain and took her stage name from a Russian girl in her drama class.
But Aquel clavel, it means a carnation, which I had to look up because it's a kind of flower, and I think it symbolizes a kind of love or a fascination, and the song is sung from a man's point of view. A girl falls from someone else, or in his words, in his aggressive words, but you are one of those women who carry within their breast betrayal, always looking instead of a heart. Dramatic lyrics.
But Tania, I was reading about her on Total Tango, and she was born in Spain, right? And I read that she took her stage name from a Russian girl, or a girl of Russian origins, that she went to theater class with when she was like 10 or 11 or something. She really liked the name and she took it as a stage name and it stuck with her. Brilliant, great story.
All right, and I also read an interview on Total Tango, she compares her own style to her own style of singing to that of Azucena Maizani. So I guess this is kind of traditional but with some hints of a more refined kind of singing. I think Tania's voice, it's a posher voice than Azucena Maizani. Azucena Maizani, like Rosita Chiroga, it's really the voice of the Arrabal, the poor and downtrodden outskirts of the city. And it's interesting to hear that Tania associates with that. But I think her voice doesn't really sound like it's grown up in absolute poverty. Mind you, Ada Falcons does not either, does it? But it's, yeah, a more refined voice than Maizani's. Let's hear it. Aquel clavel, a waltz with Tania singing.
Yeah, interesting to see a woman sing from a man's point of view, which we often see in Tango Lyric Stoneway, because the lyrics are written mostly for men to sing. Yes, I was hoping for a moment that actually it would be a lyric that turned the tables. But actually it wasn't. One person commented in the... Those are quite rare, aren't they? Yes, they are.
There was a comment in the chat window of a certain Spanish feeling to the song. Well, she came from Spain, and this is right at the beginning of her career in Argentina, which had begun only the previous year, so maybe there's something still lingering of that. But it is a really intense lyric. Seems to be a theme of the year. Some very intense lyrics. Yeah.
We're going to listen to some more songs with Spanish connection later on. But first, let's go on to another song about a man heartbroken and rather wrenchful. And this one is Drinking to Forget. And this is a theme I think we've touched upon a few times, Michael, in these programs. That a man in front of a glass of wine or stronger trying to forget about something. This is Carlos Cardel with Tomo y obligo.
A man at a bar who makes you drink with him; another drinking-to-forget lyric.
Yeah, that's the one we listened to, I think, last two weeks ago. So tomo y obligo, it's not so easy to translate, but tomo, tomar, is to take, to have a drink. Y obligo, I oblige, and then the lyric says, and I make you have a drink as well. So it's a guy who's, it's one of those people at a bar who forces you to have a drink with him. That's what this thing goes about. Hope is paying for it at least. I'm sure he is.
And I'm thinking about this song. I know it from D'Agostino Vargas from the 40s. And I really like this. It's very introvert and nice. I didn't pay attention to the lyrics before. But it's a beautiful song. Yeah, it's also one of... And I like this Gardell version as well. It's one of the Gardell songs from his films. So I think if you go onto YouTube, you may be able to find a video of him singing it. So let's hear it. Tomo y obligo is Gardel with guitar backing.
Impressionante, someone wrote in the chat window. I think it's Gardel's best recording of 1931. Really strong performance. Love it. Yeah. Be strong, my friend. Suffer and don't cry. A man shouldn't cry.
Let's cool down a little bit from these bitter men in front of a glass or thinking about their lost loves and listen to a wonderful little instrumental waltz, a band on the own and two guitars version of Amores y celos, which means love and jealousy, and lucky this is an instrumental, so we don't have to think about the lyrics, just enjoy it, and it's a trio of Cirilo Ortiz.
Yes, this is one of their very first recordings. Great band on the own players. They're going to have a long recording career together. Vicente Spina, a well-known composer as well, is the first guitarist in the backing group. But this is a waltz that we know very well. Even if you don't know this recording, you'll know the D'Arienzo performance from 1936 very well. So it's a very, strangely given the title, a very joyful piece somehow. I guess here with Cirilo Ortiz it's going to feel a little bit more introvert because that's the key to his bandagnon style.
That's true. And that's a really nice, long and nice introduction to it. So with Cirilo going, well, doing his thing on the bandagnon. That's nice. So let's listen to this Amores y celos with the trio Cirilo Ortiz.
A waltz with guitars that D'Arienzo recorded in 1936; Vicente Spina is first guitar.
♪ Music · 2:38 ·
Wonderful, this combination of band unknown and guitars, it's, uh, it gives a very special feeling, doesn't it? It's really beautiful and I just wish there was more. I think in 1931 there isn't more, unfortunately, but it's the kind of music I could listen to all night and to dance to, imagine dancing to that, that would be such a joy.
Okay, let's go on to this next, the next one I'm interested in because it's a guy called Juan Guido. We listened to him before, but I was playing one song of him in tango 1926-27. I think it was a month ago. And I remember I introduced him and I thought maybe Biagi was playing on this because there was some story about him playing with Guido. And I wrote to you about it. And a couple of hours later, Michael, I got a long answer from you and you had been reading the Gardell biography and checked whether the story could be possible of Biagi playing with Guido after refusing some kind of offer from Gardell going to Europe, and you found the dates and when Gardell was leaving for Europe. And so you found exactly, could it be possible that Biagi was playing with the Guido back in 26, no, but he did in 31, probably in early 31. And I'm just going to quote from the message, this is just to show everyone how dedicated Michael is to this project.
Yes, I read around and the offer for Spain would have come at the end of 1930. This could mean that Biagi plays on the Guido session of 13th of January 1931, mi piba and the world siempre to Amare, both with Juan Lauga on vocals. So this is so you, Michael. I mean, I throw out something and you spend a couple of hours really researching it, and it's just wonderful to engage in this.
Chapter · 1:36:52
Was it Biagi?
Possibly the young Biagi on a 1931 Juan Guido session.
It was an intriguing suggestion, wasn't it? Could that be Rodolfo Biagi on piano? Even now, I mean, I guess you're going to play one of the numbers from that session, but of course he's just doing his job as a accompanying musician. So he's not going to be letting rip and revealing all his qualities to us.
It's not ripping, but for me, it's, I really feel, maybe I'm wrong, but I really feel it's Biagi. There's something with the playfulness of this. You can hear it sometime. If you listen to the piano on this waltz, Siempre te amaré, I really think it's Biagi on piano, because I recognize this sound from D'Arienzo five years later, but of course I might be wrong and so I'd be interested to hear about the other field, but it's so interesting to think about this. This could be a really early Biagi going a little bit loose, not quite as we know him from later, but early Biagi. So should we hear it? Yes, let's listen to it and all feel for ourselves whether we feel we can catch the Biagi flavor.
Lavocah's research suggests Biagi may be the pianist on Guido's 13 January 1931 session, after turning down Gardel's offer to go to Spain.
So the song is called Siempre te amaré, I always loved you. And the orchestra is Juan Guido. And it's probably Biagi on piano. Let's see what you think.
So what do you think, is it Biagi or not? I don't know if it's Biagi, but whoever it is he does a really good job and the waltz has got tremendous movement. I don't know, there's something bubbly in between this piano that really reminds me of Biagi. With that answer, the fills between the phrases, I get what you mean, I get what you mean. Well, the evidence points at Biagi. And it's kind of offbeat, it's... Yeah, well, anyway, it's nice to think that it's him. Good piano anyway.
So, well, let's move on to more female vocalists, and as you know, those who've been following the program for a while, Imperio Argentina is one of my personal favorites. It's your top tango singer crush. I have, well, one of those. Her real name, Magdalena Nila del Rio, but she took the name Imperio Argentina at some point. She was 25 years old at this time and she was from Buenos Aires, but she moved to Spain, I think, so she performed a lot in Spain, so I think this song is recorded in Spain, if I'm not wrong. But the song I want to play is called My Horse Died. It's an awful feeling, isn't it, Michael, when your horse dies?
Stenvoll's favourite singer; her horse dies, which was serious business then, as Lavocah says with 70 tangos listed about horses.
Well, we heard a very tragic story about the guy's horse failing him at the end of the 1947 after party, and there are dozens and dozens and dozens of tangos about horses. There's an article on Todo Tango which lists over 70 and it's by no means exhaustive. So yeah, you know, in certain areas with your horse died, you were a dead man, serious business.
Yeah, well, it's good, it's a sad story about someone losing his or her horse and mourning the loss. And the voice of Imperio Argentina is, yeah, I mean, it's something special. So let's hear it, and the guitar backing also, it's really nice.
Great voice. Has a very special character to it, I think. It's a unique voice, isn't it? Because she's gone the other way to Tania and the voice has Argentine elements and Spanish elements, like when she sings, that's this slight flamenco intonation, but it's a voice of real quality and refinement that everybody responds to. We can all easily understand why it's one of your favourite voices.
And the lyric is really extraordinary, isn't it? It describes the relationship with his horse as the truest and most faithful relationship that he has, which shouldn't really surprise us. I mean, it's perhaps the way many people think today, we'll say in the UK, the kind of relationship some people have with their dogs. We talk about the dog as a soulmate, best friend who's always there for you 100% of the time, never gets upset. And here in this time that kind of relationship is not for a pet, because most people don't have pets, but it's for the horse. So when I first looked at that lyric there was a moment where I was a bit shocked and startled by it, but then I thought about it for a moment and I thought, no, this is a serious lyric and we're meant to take it seriously.
Yeah, nice, and as many commented in the chat window, there's a Spanish feel to this, some of the pronunciations and the whole song gets this kind of... Yeah, you feel a bit of Spain in this. And the next singer also is Spanish. It's someone we never listened to before in Tango By Year that I came across this last week, called Tani Seria. She's a Spanish singer from Valencia, like Tania. And she made some tango recordings in this year, and I think they're lovely. And I'm going to play one called Mejor no recordar, better not to remember. And just listen to the way she pronounces the Rs. This is, yeah, very special.
A Spanish-flavoured tango from the Barcelona side of tango.
Who does that remind you of? The rrrr part. It is Piaf, maybe. Well, that's a good answer. But within the tango verse, it reminded me of Fiorentino. Oh, wow. Yeah.
La perra. It's something that you really hear Fiorentino doing a lot. I think it's lovely. What we're listening to here is Spanish tango really, but it's wonderful. The voice is clearly not an Argentine voice, but it has a real quality and charm and character, beautiful guitar backing, perfect, you know. It's different. Spain, especially Barcelona, was the place that had the most visiting tango artists after Paris.
And in the early days, in the 20s, it had the most, because it was easy for Argentines to be understood there. People spoke the same language, so they felt very comfortable. There was a closer cultural connection. So we shouldn't be surprised that there was quite a big tango scene in Madrid and Barcelona. And also we shouldn't be surprised then that there were local artists who were very competent and very successful as well.
Thanks for playing that. All right, let's move on to something more mainstream tango that we know also from dancing, Osvaldo Fresedo. And I think you said a couple of weeks ago or a month ago, Michael, I think it was in Tango 2027, that Fresedo 31 was a touch of melancholy. But I think it's more than a touch, actually.
I really, I mean, for me, Fresedo this year is really interesting because it's, yeah, it's much more melancholic than that would be heard from the late 20s. Beautiful. It's a rather different sounding Fresedo, often at a very slow pace and generating a really intense feeling that you certainly don't get in later Fresedo, but that you don't get in the earlier Fresedo either. He really does respond to the depression and the economic and social crisis in the country.
It's, I don't know, it's like a whiskey. Yeah, old, nice whiskey. An old flavored whiskey, yes. Let's have some whiskey and listen first to Carinito. Carinito. This is with Teófilo Ibáñez singing again. And then the same singer, but the tango El Onza, which is a composition by the Fresedo brothers and known from many, many later versions by different orchestras, also decidedly. Two beautiful songs, I think. Do you want to say anything about them? No, just play them. They'll be wonderful.
Smile and take the liquor through your mouth. Let your soul dance, waiting for love. Maybe this is the most danceable and enjoyable of the various different versions of El Ancet. I do have a real affection for the even older recording, which is 27, 28, I forget exactly, musically speaking. But for dancing, this is just perfect. It's light and joyful, nice tempo. And then by 1945, it's too sweet, and there's this drum crash. This is perfect. Yeah. This is perfect.
And the violins are very special, aren't they? Lots and lots of comments in the chat window about the Fresedo violins. And he does have great musicians playing, but there's something about the slow pace of the music in this particular year, which changes the character of the violins. They seem to wail a little bit more, and it reminds me a little bit of the deep wailing of the Firpo violins, which is not something I normally find myself saying about Fresedo. So good observation.
Yeah, let's listen to some more Fresedo, and there's a track we just have to listen to. It's a masterpiece. We know it from this early recorded it many years later, it's known for this rare piano solo, La Cachila. So La Cachila is one of the compositions of Eduardo Arolas, who is mega famous more as a composer than as a musician, but is not nearly as famous as he would be had he remained in Buenos Aires. He's a bandoneón player who came up with certain foundational techniques on the instrument, but at a certain point, because of an unhappy love affair, he decided, right, I will go to Paris and make my career there. And for that reason we don't know his oeuvre as well as we might.

A masterpiece by Eduardo Arolas with a rare piano solo; played slowly and spaciously, 'a tango for 3am'.
“[Fresedo's slow pace] ... a tango for 3am when you're dancing and you're tired but you want to keep going.”
But La Cachila, come on, yes. Wonderful Canaro versions, wonderful Di Sarli version, wonderful Pugliese versions. That's a real broad spread of orchestras that his compositions appeal to, because they were very, very advanced musically. And this track is absolutely one I would have played tonight if you had not played it. Advanced music making, and Fresedo's slow pace and the tender but very melancholic 1931 violins bring out something beautiful. It's actually super tender. La Cachila, Vicedo.
Masterpiece. And interesting how you hear the bass so clearly in that song. I don't know what to say. It's such exquisite and beautiful music. The violin, the name of the violinist, Adolfo Muzzi, first violin in the Fresedo Orchestra. A unique sound, very special sound. Doesn't sound like Vadaro, doesn't sound like Guisado, but he's really important to the sound of the band. And again, with the slow pace maintaining these lines, it's a chat. He kills you.
Lots of people in the chat window had the same reaction, was this is a tango for 3am when you're dancing and you're tired but you want to keep going. That's wonderful. Yeah, and this slow pace, I mean, we recognize it from the late 20s, but most orchestras have speeded up a bit at this point, but he keeps this really not just slow but also this very spacious sound that gives a very original sound impression. I don't know whether anyone has done the analysis, and it's a difficult analysis to do because it depends on being sure about the speeds of the records. But my feeling is that 31 is the slowest year. Because 32, everyone decides they've had enough of the depression and sadness, and all the music becomes bright and cheerful and fast-paced, like El Orocan of Donato. And this is the period, if you like, of greatest despair. That's what we're hearing in the music.
Let's move on to Juan Maglio that we listened to before in the earlier programs. And he has this irresistible beat. And you said earlier, Michael, that this is kind of inspiration for D'Arenso in terms of the repertoire, but also the strong beat. Yes, this is Maglio's last big year for recording, because he dies in 1934. He's lived a hard and intense life. And from 32 onwards, there are very few recordings. So there are still a few more.
And if I'm not mistaken, Dag, we're going to have another Vadaro moment with the violin accompaniment and Juan Maglio. Could very much be. There is a wonderful violin solo towards the end of the second song, and yeah, I hope you're right. It's Vadaro, but you know better than me. He played for Maglio this year, basically. Vadaro is playing for Maglio all the time, except during the time of the failed Vadaro Pugliesi sextet, which was all of 1930 and a little bit of 29. So he's very, very likely to be playing, but you won't need me to tell you. The moment the violin comes in, you will all know, folks, I trust you.
Yeah, Maglio has Carlos Vivan singing on some of his recordings, but I really like the instrumentals better, to be honest. And we're going to listen to a waltz called Princesa, Princess, and the tango called Plegaria, which is a different composition from the one that we know from other orchestras later. And Princesa has a really long introduction, and Plegaria, the second, has a really wonderful violin solo towards the end. And yeah, let's see if we can hear Fritz Vardaro. So Juan Maglio, Princesa, waltz, and Plegaria, instrumental tango.
Maglio's violin comes in at once; played as a prototype of the D'Arienzo band.
A strong walking beat with a big role for the piano, 'just as Biagi will'.
Oh my god, Badaro! Vodaro is sensational, but the band is pretty good too, isn't it? I particularly like the contribution of the piano player, the bandoneons. They changed very rapidly. Folks, sometimes when we're playing something, I see comments in the chat window: the bandoneon is X, the violinist is Y. It's really a complex topic. You can't just take what's written in one source as gospel. The musicians themselves couldn't remember.
You know, Troilo couldn't remember what year he played in Maglio's band, because, you know, he was a young boy and he was moving from band to band, a week here, a month there, three months there. The people themselves, the very musicians themselves, couldn't remember. It was a very, very fluid scene, or there were musicians who only joined in on the recording sessions and not otherwise. So it's very hard to know who the bandoneons are in 1931, but possibly it's Gosti Catti, who's the guy who plays the bandoneon variación of El Choclo for Carlos Di Sarli, the only bandoneon variación ever recorded.
This band is sensational. People, you can hear the influence on D'Arienzo, can't you? Four strong beats, not one and two, but four strong beats. The piano has a really big role, just as Biagi will. This is the prototype of the D'Arienzo band, and we're all going to play more, aren't we, after this pandemic is over? We're going to play more Maglio. Yeah, no, I will.
Okay, let's listen to some more female singers. We mentioned earlier Azucena Maizani, and I found out that this year she recorded a tango called Pero José, which is her own composition. It's her best song, I mean not her best song, let's say her greatest song. But it's her composition, I mean this is something we know from other orchestras, but she wrote this. Yes, we know it from D'Agostino Vargas.
Maizani's own composition, a rare lyric written by a woman; the pianist is Orestes Cúfaro.
The night comes and you've only just got up. That's how it starts off. Does that sound like anyone's tango lifestyle? Especially when you're on holiday in Buenos Aires. The night falls. You've just got up. And then it goes on about all the things that this guy does. But then she says, but I know. I know what it's like when you get home. I know you, guy.
This is a wonderful tango. So, you know, the women, in fact, all of us, we have to put up with some lyrics that are really quite primitive in terms of the relationships between men and women. But here's a fantastic lyric in which the woman says, I've seen right through you, guy. Wonderful. It's a lyric for our time, actually, in that sense. And it's a wonderful accompaniment, because it's a piano and a violin.
And the pianist is called Orestes Cufaro and the violinist is Roberto Cerigio, which we know from the Cerigio Donato Orchestra the year before. Yes, they were romantically entangled. So Cerigio separates with Donato in order to work with her on the tour. And at a certain point, they become a couple. And yeah, that's how that happened, probably. And it's a nice feeling of her beautiful voice, and with just the piano and the violin in the background gives a very special atmosphere. So let's hear it. And this is her own composition. She wrote the lyrics and the music. Enjoy. Azucena Maizani, Pero José.
Isn't that intimate? So beautiful. It's heartbreaking. Heartbreaking. Let me just read the chorus in English.
But I know, Pero José, I know you're stuck and you live grieving for a lost love and that you're just seeking oblivion with all these women. I know in the early morning when you leave the party you leave with your heart burdened by a tender memory and you start to cry. Only a woman could have written that. I feel, yeah, you don't get so many lyrics from a really, from a woman's perspective, so that's, uh, I guess we have to be really grateful for the D'Agostino Vargas version because otherwise we wouldn't have a version by a typical... Yeah, oh yeah.
Um, let's move on to the last female vocalist for the night, Libertad Lamarque, and this is not so intimate but it's a very interesting and I think very nice song. It's called La paloma. The Dove. I didn't find any lyrics for this so I don't have either the Spanish or the English translation but it's a very strong habanero rhythm to this. That's interesting, like the milonga but not milonga but this kind of rhythm that you have with milongas, pre-milonga period, milonga tango. Yeah.

The last of the evening's women singers.
So yeah, we're getting towards the end but so this is the last woman singer but we have some more left. Listen to Libertad Lamarque singing about doves. La paloma.
It's a fantastic ending of a beautiful intimate song. I love it. It's a hit. Really funny.
So, yeah, we're approaching the end of a really nice night. And I wanted to finish with the bandoneon player, Pedro Mafia. He has a really good period, I think, in 1931. What do you think, Michael?
Well, first of all, I totally agree with you. Pedro Mafia in this period is very special, but I would say it's a slow burner. The first time you hear it, it's easy to overlook. And it's one of those tastes that comes to one, generally speaking, quite late in one's tango career. But he's wonderful in this period. We couldn't have the 1931 show without listening to Pedro Mafia and there are a number of really special tangos that he has in this year.
Yeah, and there is, he has a special singer also. I mean he has Francisco Fiorentino of all people as one of his singers this year, except he isn't a special singer in 1931. He's just this guy, he's just a bandagnon player, second rate bandagnon player who tries his career as a singer. Exactly.
Before the age of the Cantor de la Orquesta, a lot of the time the person who sang the lyric was someone who played another instrument in the band, and when they needed a bit sung, he would just stand up and sing it and then he would carry on playing his instruments. It was very, very common at the time. And Fiorentino said, it was after I played in Pedro Mafia's band that I decided to give up the bandagnon, because he listened to Pedro Mafia playing bandagnon and thought, I'll never be that good.
Yeah, and we're happy about that because so it's a later career with Troilo. We are, I mean, he had to wait many years for the fruit of that, but um, he did. So Mafia was also, as you write in the Troilo book, one of the inspirations for Troilo, so we have a lot to thank Mafia for. Yeah, we have a double Troilo connection coming up. Exactly.
Fiorentino early in his career; the opening notes imitate a church bell. Lovely cello by Néstor Feria.
So let's hear two wonderful recordings. First, Carillón de la Merced. Oh God, so Carillón de la Merced is one of the songs of 1931. And it starts, La Merced is Our Lady of Mercy. Di Sarli was on a walking holiday in Lima, in Peru. Have I got that right? And he listened to the church bells and that inspired him, so that the opening notes are the church bell intoning its chimes. And every single, there isn't a bad version of this tango but there's a lot of competition for which is the best and this is definitely a contender. It's a lovely one.
And the second track is the waltz Tus promesas and this is with a guy called Rafael Siska singing. I don't know anything about him, sorry. Neither do I. But it's a very lovely waltz.
So when we're listening to Pedro Mafia, the thing we should always listen to is his sense of a smooth linked melody. That was characteristic of his bandoneon playing, but that's of course what he then exports onto the feeling of the whole orchestra. The sense of a smooth melody. So we can listen for that.
A waltz with a singer named Rafael, played after the Carillón.
All right, listen to that. First, Carillón de la Merced with no one less than Francisco Fiorentino singing in his very early career. And then Tus promesas, a waltz with Rafael Siska singing.
What a kickass waltz. Great swing in that. Oh, Mafia is great, isn't it? And the Carillón de la Merced, so tender, and the cello of Nerón Ferrazano. In this time there are two bands that are really using the cello very well, and it's not the nato, he's using the cello, but the bands that have really developed the use of it, Fresedo and Mafia.
Yeah, I love the cello in these early, early tangos. It adds weight and body, doesn't it? And it was a lot easier to record either than a double bass or the very high violin sound. So that's partly how it made its way but I think it has a special place in tango music.
So, uh, before we get to the compasita, as we always do, I want to play one more vocal tango. We started tonight's program with a Confesión and we'll end with one, because I never played two versions of the same composition, the same program before, but now it's time to break the rule. And I want to listen to Ignacio Corsini's recording of Confesión. And I think it's so different from the one we heard earlier by Orquesta Típica Porteña that, yeah, I think it's fair to play it. And I just think this is pure beauty and we get the full lyrics of a man who looks back at his love and regret and because he beat her and he left her because he wanted to protect her or something like this. It's a really heavy lyric and a beautiful interpretation by Corsini, one of my favourite vocalists on the whole Tango by Year series.
Yeah. Confesión is one of the songs of the year. It crosses over with 1930, if I recall correctly. And it's one of my favourite tango lyrics. You know, it's very easy to dismiss a lyric because it does something or talks about a situation that is outside what we consider acceptable in modern culture. So here, part of what the lyric is about is about a man who hits his woman.
But I think we make a mistake because the point is not to make a judgment about the lyric but to look at the emotions that it reveals. And it reveals a man nothing to do with his action, his action is a wrong action but he knows that and his tortured self-analysis, he's trying to rest into consciousness his incomprehension, his lack of understanding, his immaturity. It's the lyric of someone who knows they've made a terrible mistake. And maybe that's why I like it, I don't know, but it's a profound lyric because it talks about a difficult aspect of life in its complexity. It's complex, definitely.
A difficult lyric about violence in a relationship, defended by Lavocah as a profound study of emotion; Corsini was said to have learned to sing from birds in Sicily.
So let's hear it, and uh, Corsini, as you said in one of the earlier programs, Michael, is one who said he was taught to sing by the birds in his home place where he grew up in Sicily, Italy. So listen to the birds singing about this difficult theme of violence in a relationship.
An arrangement with a cello, musical saw, pizzicato violins and a piano solo, one of only two versions that year.
Yeah. We can't say anything. It's perfect. It's a great tango and a great performance. Yeah, let's leave it at that.
And yeah, before I play the compasita, I just want to say thanks, everyone, for coming. And sorry about a bit difficult sound tonight because of my bad connection. There was some delay in the conversation between me and Michael, so that was a bit disturbing for everyone. But I hope you enjoyed it nevertheless, and what music from this year.
Hey, fantastic. It's a superb year for tango music, and there will be an after party. Wonderful, yes. Has to be so much good music, yes, from 1931. In terms of like percentage of tracks which are great tracks, I've never actually run that analysis, but it could be one of the highest. There's a task for me. That's not something I want to do. I've got too many other things to do, but I do have that intuition about that year. Yeah.
Before I play Compasita, we should announce what's going to happen in two weeks. It's not a big surprise, because we only have one year left in the Tango by Year series, and for those of you who have been following us, it's um, it's a very good year, it's 1943. Can you imagine anything better than to finish on 1943? 1943, peak Di Sarli, it's Di Sarli's best year, what more can you ask for? Uno, Juan D'Arienzo with Héctor Mauré.
Actually, can I just say, sort of more practically, so, sure, obviously it's going to be a long program, the next program. And I will certainly be opening a bottle of champagne at the beginning of the evening, and just before the after party I will be putting a pizza in the oven. So if you don't want to be annoyed that you don't have champagne and pizza during the after party, you need to make preparations for two weeks time. Okay, and we can all do that together, but it's going to be a long night and to get through it I need both those things. So it's going to be a very long night. It's going to be no time limit for the last program in the Tanglebaker series. There won't be any time limit, so we'll just keep going as long as we want until we run out of good music to play for that year. After party, after after party, after after after after after party, who knows.
So, but for tonight, let's finish my part of this with La cumparsita. And I want to play the version by Orquesta Típica Brunswick. And this is a long version, more than four minutes with over a minute introduction. It starts very square, like, but then there is a cello coming in, there's a musical saw, there's pizzicato violins, there's modulation, there's a piano solo. It's a great version, I think. Fantastic. Interesting version of La cumparsita. This is a superb and interesting version of La cumparsita, pushing the boundaries on the music.
And let's remember, there's only one other version of La cumparsita that attempts anything like this, and that's the one of Julio de Caro. Who's Julio de Caro? The man who made the most advanced tango music and expanded the vocabulary for everyone else, putting it very simply. He also has a four and a half minute version of La cumparsita, but it's next year. This one's first. It's surprising. It's a house orchestra, so you think, wow, who came up with this? I know, it's absolutely extraordinary. They even get a special series of numbers, so we don't know how to explain it, but there it was.
Let's remember what we're listening to in 1931 is the end of an extremely fecund and diverse period. So beginning about 1928, lots and lots of sextets arose, making very high quality music. It's a bit like gardening. When you plant a plant, it's very vigorous, this plant, and it produces many, many, many shoots, all of which are beautiful, but then something happens. Either the gardener comes along or there's a hard frost and lots of these shoots are pruned off. This is what's happening as we listen to the music from 1931 to 1932. There's a really intense pruning of these plants, and the plant takes three or four years to recover and then it produces the 1940s. That's the image I'll leave you with.
“It's a bit like gardening... there's a really intense pruning of these plants.”
That's wonderful. And let's do our thanking now, Dag, because as well as our usual thanks to the people who've sponsored this program over this past year, Tango Brasso in Bergen, in his city, Tango Norfolk here in mine, and the Argentine Tango Society, the owners of the Madabu. I specifically want to thank the person who gave me this, it's for Daro, baby! t-shirt, which apparently is something I said to Dag. It was. Of course, thank you to Dag for arranging it, but Dag commissioned the design for Marta Kosakovska, who's a photographer and graphic artist for tango events. So thank you very much to Marta. I know that you've joined us this evening, and if you need a photographer or a graphic artist for your tango event, we can both recommend her wholeheartedly. So yeah, I just wanted to mention that. I'm so pleased to have this because, you know, Vodara doesn't have enough publicity, but today he's got a bit more.
Yeah, I want to second that. I was so happy, Marta, that you said yes to this assignment and put your effort into making such a beautiful graphics for our program and for Laura. So thank you for that. So with that, let's move on to my last song for tonight, before the after party. Orquesta Típica Brunswick, La cumparsita, a very long instrumental version.
Thank you very much indeed, Dag. 1931, what you've shown me tonight, it's really quite a diverse year. It is, isn't it? That's kind of a product of the recording opportunities that were available. But really, it was a very diverse year, and all that's going to be pruned away. And in fact, it is being pruned away during this year and into the following year.
So I'll do the normal thing, folks. We're going to have an after party. It's going to be a long after party tonight, because we've only got two weeks, two more shows tonight and 1943. So I'm going to play two jazz numbers for you so that you've got time to go and get yourself a glass of wine or a slice of toast or whatever it is you need to go and get you. And of course, they're both sensational numbers. First of all, we're going to listen to some Louis Armstrong, because Louis Armstrong was on fire in these years. And this is the Louis Armstrong song, is one that you may know because it's a jazz standard. For years I thought of it as a Nat King Cole song. It's Walking My Baby Back Home.
Jazz break before the afterparty: Armstrong on fire.
The original version of the Blues Brothers song, which is from 1931 and not the 40s.
And after that I'm going to play the original version of Minnie the Moocher by Cab Calloway. If you've ever seen the film The Blues Brothers, you know what that is, but you know, we think of it as a song from the 1940s, but the first recording is from 1931. You're gonna like it a lot. So here come these two songs. Recharge your glasses, get yourself something to eat, and then we're gonna have some really juicy music.
Welcome back, everyone. If you can't hear me, make a sign. But I think we're good. 1931 is a very strong year for tango. Now, my very good friend Dag Stenvoll made a really outrageous accusation at the beginning of the programme, which was that Canaro in 1931, forget it, not worth listening to. Well, I can't let that pass.
I have to agree with my very good Norwegian friend, my very good, very Norwegian friend, that 1931 does see a reduction in quality of Canaro's output. But that doesn't mean there is not some sensational stuff. So the next little segment of the program is called The Good, The Bad and The Ugly. Let's start off with a tango from 1931, which, well, you will type in the chat window and let me know how you feel about it. But how I feel about it is I shouldn't like this tango, but I do. Do you ever have that feeling?
In German you have this absolutely sensational word which means something that burrows its way into your mind and you can't get it out of your head. Paul Strudwick, who I know is among our guests tonight, and his partner have a Facebook group called The Tango Currently Playing in My Head. But in German, you've just got one word for all of that. Earworm. So we're going to start off with a Francisco Canaro earworm. So this is a tango which a part of me really hates and finds very irritating. But at the same time, I do find it completely irresistible. This is Ruggiero.
Lavocah: 'I shouldn't like this tango but I do', an earworm.
The Canaro you love to hate. OK. So, an irritating Canaro earworm. Either you love it or you think, I shouldn't like it, but I do. Like me. But in the same year, Canaro is producing, and I'll stick with the instrumentals. I'm going to save the contribution of Charlo for another three minutes, because of course, Charlo, just by appearing on the stage, will effortlessly raise the quality. But even without Charlo, Canaro is doing some really special things. Have a listen to this tango, also from 1931, also an instrumental. A great beat, to be sure, but much more complex and less square in its meter than the tango you've just heard. This is Criogazo.
Well, I see we've still got one or two holdouts, so we're still saying 1931 Canaro's rubbish, so I need to raise my game. So I need to play my trump card, Charlo, and we're gonna go straight ahead with two songs from him. First of all, a tango that you have never heard before in Tango by Year, not tonight or on any other night. Flor de fango. Fango is the mud. It's a real lunfardo word for the mud. Remember that the streets in the barrios were not asphalted like the street is outside your house, but they were mud streets, often with a river running down the middle of the street, a ditch, which could be a freshwater river or could even be sewage. It's a word you hear a lot in tango lyrics. First, Flor de fango. I think it's exquisite. Anyone who doesn't agree will be shot, and followed immediately afterwards by the Canaro version of one of the tangos of the year, Sueño de juventud. Both of them with Charlo.

Lavocah's trump card to defend 1931 Canaro; a lunfardo word for the mud of the barrio streets.
Danced to it
So can I just reiterate something that I pointed out earlier in the program, is Sueño de juventud is not really intended for dancing ever, and even those wonderful late interpretations of disali, such a slow tempo, like 45 beats a minute, would you dance for those, not easy. So remember, this is Tango by Year. We play music because we love it, not because we want to dance to it, even if dancing is a huge part of our love. So I'll play one more Canaro, because it's a waltz that I really love, and I hope you love it too. Flossita criogia, Creole Flower.
A waltz Lavocah loves, played after reiterating that Sueño de juventud is not for dancing.
Well, I hope I've succeeded in rehabilitating Francisco Canaro's reputation, even if only partially, with those selections. And who was the bandoneon player making that very enjoyable bandoneon variation at the end? I guess you're thinking it's Minotto, aren't you? But it isn't, because Minotto isn't playing in Canaro's orchestra in 1931, because he's quit in 1930 and he's formed his own orchestra, which is one of the orchestras that is going to be pruned away by the great cull of the sextets currently in progress. And the first bandoneon player in this lineup is Angel Ramos, but of course he's copying Minotto's style.
But we really ought to play one tango of Minotto's orchestra, just one, so you can get a feel for what Minotto was doing in this short period of independence. I say a short period. He left Canaro and returned three times, but this is the only time where he's leading his own orchestra. So there's a few that I could have selected for you, but we've only got time to play one. So this is Mirate en este espejo. Take a look in the mirror.
Played to show the short period when Minotto led his own band instead of being Canaro's bandoneonist; first bandoneón is Ángel Ramos.
Well, a very positive reaction from the community to the orchestra of Minotto. If only we could go back in time and tell Canaro what you guys had just said, that you actually liked it more than you liked Canaro in 1931. I don't think that message would have gone down very well. History took another course and Minotto was forced to rejoin Canaro's orchestra in 1932, where he made a great contribution.
Now, Dag didn't have time to play Orquesta Típica Victor tonight. It was on his list, but he just ran out of time. He sent me a private message to tell me that. So in the early part of the after party I like to play things that you've not heard so far, so we need to listen to a little bit of Orquesta Típica Victor. Somebody pointed out that they do have a wonderful version of Carillón de la Merced, which we heard earlier from Fresedo, I think it was, but we're not going to hear that; you can seek that out after the show. Let's start off with one tango. This is a brojalera.
It's more good OTV from 1931, but I'm not going to play it. You can check it out after the show.
Now, Dag played one track from Ignacio Corsini, and we love him on this show. I love him. It's a voice that appeals to me a great deal, and he has some really lovely recordings in this year. And of those, there's one that I really can't let the evening pass and not play. And that's a tango that you know from Carlos Di Sarli with Roberto Rufino in 1941. Here, a decade earlier, is Griseta.
Lavocah compares a decade-earlier 'Griseta' to the 1941 Di Sarli and Rufino song.
♪ Music · 2:16 ·
So tender and exquisite, really lovely. So the evening is drawing on. I'm going to play two more orchestras, I think. There's more good Juan Maglio to play and I want to finish with Fresedo, because Fresedo from 1931, it's so special, it's so different to his output from any other year. It really captures something unique and precious. So we'll save that to the end. And I think before then, we'll listen to some Juan Maglio.
Now, excuse me, I just need to check what it was that Dag played. You played the waltz Princesa and then Plegaria, I think. So I'll try very hard not to play those. But there's still another song that begins with a P. Right. So, there's an awful lot to choose from actually. We are going to begin with another waltz because there are many good Maglio waltzes even just from this one year. First a waltz, then we're going to listen to a few tangos, more than one. This is El pensamiento, the thought.
This is the point at which I say, wow! That's amazing, isn't it? Juan Maglio. Gosh, I could dance to that kind of stuff all night. So let's put together a little tanda of Juan Maglio tangos. I'll explain them to you and then put them straight through. First of all El aguacero, and that really is the tango that you know from 40s recordings, so we'll have that one; that one will have Carlos Vivan singing. I'm gonna allow myself three, and it's still really difficult. Mmm, all right, then I will play then a brojos and the third Maglio tango to finish off. So first El aguacero, then a brojos, Alma triste. This is a very rare tango but a five-star Maglio tango.
A run of Maglio tangos that drew a strong positive reaction from the chat.
Very interestingly, the composer is Guido. So Guido is... We have similar feelings about it that we do about Canaro. It's an orchestra that we love, but not enough. We always wish we loved it a little bit more. Dag played one song from it tonight, and he played one song from Guido on a previous night, but here we can hear his composition played by another orchestra. So, three songs. First of all, El abrojo. Then, yeah, El aguacero first, then Abrochos and then Alma triste.
Folks, I'm so thrilled, and Dag's very pleased too, to see the really positive reaction to these Juan Maglio tracks. It's sensational music, and we're thrilled that you respond to them, that you like them so much. So for the last part of the evening, it's Fresedo. Now, yes, some people are waving their hands in the air in delight. But I have to tell you, this is a voyage into darkness, which is not something you expect me to say with Fresedo. And we're going to end this evening in a dark place.
Let's recall 1931 was a year of incredible suffering for a pretty large percentage of the Western world. So it's natural that that's reflected in the music. And if anything, it's the other way around. It's kind of surprising that there isn't more about it in the music than there is. And there's only one good composita in 1931, and Dag's played it already. So I can't sweeten the bitter pill I'm about to give you with a nice, beautiful composita.
Closing section: Lavocah says Fresedo in 1931 is so different from his output in any other year.
So we're now going to accompany Osvaldo Fresedo, a man born into wealth, a confident young man, an adventurer. He became a pilot. He went to the United States in 1920 already. So an adventurer. But in 1931, he took his orchestra into a little voyage into darkness.
So I'm not sure how many songs I'm going to play. But to start off with, I'll play a tango that you know very well, because it was covered by Osvaldo Pugliesi in 1945 with a duo of singers, with Moran and Chanel, which is the tango Por qué. So, now here's the Fresedo 1931 version. The best I can say about it is it's sort of tango in hard times.
Romance in Hard Times with Osvaldo Fresedo, isn't that exquisite? 1931, 14 years before the version we know and dance to at the Milanka. Two more songs tonight and then that's it. First of all, and we're staying with Fresedo, he's so wonderful in this year, another tango of Enrique Santos de Sheppolo, tango's prophet of despair and cynicism. This tango is called ¡Qué sapa, señor!, which means what a sucker.
A Discépolo tango, 'prophet of despair and cynicism'; 'what a sucker'.
♪ Music · 3:15 ·
I hope you like that. Another intense Deschepolian tango of despair from 1931. And now we have to have our final tango of the night. It's one of the most extraordinary tangos ever written and 95% if you've never heard this before. This is a Fresedo tango from 1931 called Conta Siempre Conmigo, which means you can always count on me. So it's a tango about friendship and trust. And the composer of this tango is none other than our singer Ernesto Famá, who is not known as a composer.
Before I play it, I'll read you something of the lyric. It's really an extraordinary lyric. The English lyric says, if I translate it into English, you can always count on me, come good or bad. If I can help, I'm here, body and soul, to give you a hand when the moment comes. We live in this world to help one another. Since I was born, I've been a good friend to my friends. What I have is yours. I give it all to you from my heart.
Tango By Year is Dag Stenvoll and Michael Lavocah's, published here with their permission. The audio plays from SoundCloud.
