The first time I heard the words “alternative tango,” I nearly jumped out of my chair. I never imagined to hear those two words together. What with the whole Latin thing and all that.
I am not well connected in the alternative community, but my church is a focal point for Denver’s GLBTQ Christians (two words you may be surprised to hear together), and some of my best friends … as they say.
I was new to tango and like all of the newly hooked, eager to share. Have you ever been punched so hard it lifted you off your feet? Joy sucker punched me then. I was already planning: spreading the word … a carpool to Boulder. Then my ears kicked in.
It’s about the music.
Oh. Right.
Thud.
Who would have thought that, four months later, the Tango Colorado and tango-l listservs would be burning up with a debate as fiery and caustic as the debate over my friends’ alternative lives?
Imagine: conservatives stridently defending tradition, alternatives stridently advocating change, a heckler pouring gas on the flames.
Through this discussion, I am learning about tradition and trends, the current state of tango, the spread and variations around the world, the bastardization and rejuvenation, the art and the hobby, the meaning of polyphonic. This is one of the functions of fiery debate: education. But that is only one part of the story.
From the most recent exchanges, I gather inferences about the actors. Brian is American; he doesn’t believe you need to rely on experts to tell you what’s as obvious as the nose on your face. Grisha is an expert, with a well-trained ear and subtle understanding of form. Nina is passionately devoted to the substance of tradition, a tradition that she is largely responsible for creating in Denver.
I admire them. I admire Brian’s evenhandedness and his respect for his former teacher even as he holds his own against her. I admire Grisha’s measured, informed reply. I admire Nina’s unmodulated passion, overlain with decency toward her opponents. One must speak out, and vociferously, when one sees a wrong. Nina is vociferous, she comes awfully close to crossing the line of fair play, but she is never unkind.
I am not well connected in the alternative community, but my church is a focal point for Denver’s GLBTQ Christians (two words you may be surprised to hear together), and some of my best friends … as they say.
I was new to tango and like all of the newly hooked, eager to share. Have you ever been punched so hard it lifted you off your feet? Joy sucker punched me then. I was already planning: spreading the word … a carpool to Boulder. Then my ears kicked in.
It’s about the music.
Oh. Right.
Thud.
Who would have thought that, four months later, the Tango Colorado and tango-l listservs would be burning up with a debate as fiery and caustic as the debate over my friends’ alternative lives?
Imagine: conservatives stridently defending tradition, alternatives stridently advocating change, a heckler pouring gas on the flames.
Through this discussion, I am learning about tradition and trends, the current state of tango, the spread and variations around the world, the bastardization and rejuvenation, the art and the hobby, the meaning of polyphonic. This is one of the functions of fiery debate: education. But that is only one part of the story.
From the most recent exchanges, I gather inferences about the actors. Brian is American; he doesn’t believe you need to rely on experts to tell you what’s as obvious as the nose on your face. Grisha is an expert, with a well-trained ear and subtle understanding of form. Nina is passionately devoted to the substance of tradition, a tradition that she is largely responsible for creating in Denver.
I admire them. I admire Brian’s evenhandedness and his respect for his former teacher even as he holds his own against her. I admire Grisha’s measured, informed reply. I admire Nina’s unmodulated passion, overlain with decency toward her opponents. One must speak out, and vociferously, when one sees a wrong. Nina is vociferous, she comes awfully close to crossing the line of fair play, but she is never unkind.
***
Last month I tangoed in four states in four days. Every community brought itself to the dance. Anchorage was casual, all about connecting with friends. Seattle was sophisticated, hierarchical, very New England. Portland was egalitarian, cosmopolitan in the true sense of the word. Denver had a down-home earnestness about it. Every one had taken the tango and made it it's own.
What is the relationship between rejuvenation and bastardization? Between dissemination and adaptation? One country adopts the dance of Argentina. But that country is France … or Japan … or the US … The Netherlands. These places have none of the Latin history or social mores. Each has history and norms of its own. Fusion happens.
I am grateful to my tango teachers for bringing this topic up, again and again, for keeping our eyes on the tide as it comes in. Tides come in slowly, and often we miss them until we’re immersed.
What is the relationship between rejuvenation and bastardization? Between dissemination and adaptation? One country adopts the dance of Argentina. But that country is France … or Japan … or the US … The Netherlands. These places have none of the Latin history or social mores. Each has history and norms of its own. Fusion happens.
I am grateful to my tango teachers for bringing this topic up, again and again, for keeping our eyes on the tide as it comes in. Tides come in slowly, and often we miss them until we’re immersed.
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