How It’s Done in BsA

From last Monday’s Tango Colorado listserv:

Hello Everybody:

I will be DJ'ing this Tuesday at the Turnverein starting at 7:30 …

It has been brought to my attention there has been some confusion as to what happens at a milonga (Salon) in BSAS. I thought for the first half I would play just what they play down there. Tandas, cortinas, and their version of alternative for a little over the first half of the dance.

I am very aware that Tango at the Turnverein is both a milonga and a practica. I am sure that the practica side of the room will find the music to be enjoyable, fun and full of energy.

Anyone that has questions, comments, concerns about my DJ'ing tomorrow. Please email me.

I will also take any complaints that happen to come to anyone's mind about the same subject as well.

TangoMan

* * *

To understand the last line, you have to know Tango Colorado: We’re a contentious bunch, and the conflicts often play out around the music played on Tuesday nights at the practica/milonga held in a very large ballroom, split down the middle by a row of tables, in a building call the Denver Turnverein.

From what I can gather, traditional means up to (and possibly through) Pugliese; alternative means anything post-Pugliese. There is some debate about where Mr. Pugliese should fall.

To settle arguments, both groups turn their eyes to BsA. The way to win an argument is to say your way is “how it’s done in BsA.” This poses a bit of a problem: Various people in Tango Colorado have visited or lived in various districts of BsA during various decades, and there is no consensus on how things are done there.

The good thing about a rocking boat is that eventually it comes to some sort of balance. Over time, TC has settled into a canon, a collection tango music that is generally accepted as acceptable. This is the music that is played during the early evening. The 1930s are quite popular, though daring DJs have been known to slip in a Pugliese or Piazzola. After 10 p.m., all bets are off.

DJs often post to the listserv to say something descriptive and sometimes defensive about the music they will play.

That’s why the impish TangoMan, David Hodgson, has decided to give us a taste of “how it’s done in BsA."

To put this in perspective, consider his siganture sign-off:

If you’re going to wreck a room. Wreck the room, do it well, have fun, and with a smile.

Because I am intrigued, and because it is possible for even the stirrer of a pot to feel unsure of what might ensue, I drop David a line:

Looking forward to it! I am going to pay attention to the music for a change. Normally I just like it all. (Follower’s good fortune—just have to dance, don’t have to think.)

When it comes to tango music I am a slobbering puppy. If I love all the music, I can learn to dance to all of it.

I do not want to be one who comes flouncing out of the ballroom, drops into the empty chair at the welcome desk to declare: You can’t dance to this! I like figuring things out. If I can’t dance to a certain kind of music, I want to practice until I can.

David responds :

O, have no doubt the first half will be quite obvious...

* * *

I am at the front desk, which means I have been at the Turn for about 90 minutes. Everything seems normal.

My shift is about half over when one of the TC teachers flounces out of the ballroom and drops into the spare chair in the lobby. He is cranky.

Most of the time, when someone flounces out of the ballroom, they just need a time out. You leave them alone, they regain their equilibrium and launch themselves back into the fray.

There is a cortina, some crazy thing. The DJs use the cortinas for self-expression. This is one of my favorite parts of tango. Then comes the—oh my goodness, it is not yet 10 p.m.!—alternative music.

What is this shit? the teacher explodes. He propels himself out of the chair, rockets across the ballroom, making straight for the DJ’s table.

I do not recognize the energy that prompts such sudden heat, nor the system of belief that fails to require a person to contain it. This is our well-documented national mental illness: self-indulgence. We do not control our impulses. We do not defer.

Still, as I idly watch the tantrum unfold, I smile. David has been into the esoteric side of martial arts for years; he knows how to take a person's energy in, transform it, and shoot it back out.

Easygoing is a not a personality trait, it's a skill.

The music goes on, the teacher storms out. I can't help but think that if he could have disciplined hiself to inaction, waited out his emotional burst, he could have enjoyed the rest of the evening.

I count the minutes until my shift is up, then dance the rest of the night. Nothing snags my attention. David said he would play "Tandas, cortinas, and their version of alternative for a little over the first half of the dance."

I have not figured out what makes the music tonight any more like BsA than any other night at the Turn. Is it the selection of songs, the order in which they are played? There was only one alternative tanda in early evening, the one that the teacher disliked. So what is it that makes tonight's music more like BsA than any other night?

At the end of the evening, I ask.

You don't know? David says.

Elvis.