[Tango-L] Tango in Toulouse--Part 4

[randy cook]

Tango in Toulouse--Part 4
July 2, 2009
10:00 PM

There is a tango concert-dance tonight at Le Bikini, a tropical-themed rock club with an outdoor  restaurant, a swimming pool, palm trees, and patio torches.  A poster of Vladimir Lenin by the entrance advises people to "dance hard, but drink in moderation!"

Janet goes inside the rock club to hear the warm-up band, Trio Entonces.  Robert and I pick a table at the outdoor garden and feast upon an amazing salad built on a decorated half-shell melon with skewers of beef, shrimp, and grilled vegetables arranged like the masts of Errol Flynn's flagship from Captain Blood.  We drink no rum nor sing no sailor's shanties, but with a glass of beer and a strong espresso, we are feeling jolly by the time the main event begins--Orquesta Tipica Color Tango, from Argentina.  

Led by Roberto Alvarez, once lead bandoneon with Osvaldo Pugliese's orchestra, Color Tango does for Pugliese what others have done for D'Arienzo and DiSarli.  Cynics call them a "copy-cat orchestra," but I gladly put such labels aside when the musicians play with such harmony, precision, and style.  Would you call The New York Philharmonic  a "copy-cat orchestra" because they play, note for note, the works of masters of the past?  

Finding no "service compris" written on the check, Robert and I leave a tip for our waiter, then enter the rock club. It has a medium-sized dance floor, made smaller by light and sound equipment, by tables and chairs, tango gear for sale, and a busy bar.  There is also a large, raised stage for the orchestra, with a smoke machine and mobile lighting.  The best views are from above--from the catwalk. 

In contrast to what I've seen at other milongas, where most people come to dance, here at Le Bikini, many people seem to want only to listen.  Nothing wrong with that!  But after the orchestra plays "La Yumba," Robert Alvarez puts down his bandoneon and tells the audience, in Spanish, that although he is deeply honored by their undivided attention, he would be honored even more "si se levantaran a bailar"-- if they would get up and dance!

Reluctantly, as if afraid of breaking eggs, the first couples rise tentatively to try out the dance floor.  Alvarez nods his encouragement, and others join.  And others.  And others.  The floor fills up fast.  Once the dancers are on their feet, the mood of the club changes completely.  The concert quickly becomes...something  else.

How do I describe the change?  I went to a bullfight once.  I've watched demolition derby on television.  The crowd at Le Bikini seems to have taken its cues from both.  The dancers brandish their boleos, galvanize their ganchos, heedless of the traffic around them.  From my perch on the catwalk, I can barely discern the line of dance, but I can make out multiple collisions.  I even witness a woman wind up on her back after tripping over the sound and light cables taped to the floor by the engineer's booth.  Madre de Dios!

So what do I do?   Le Bikini has awakened my Inner Pirate.  I run the Jolly Roger up the flagpole, climb down from the catwalk, and join in the brawl.  "Dance hard and fight in moderation!" as Lenin says.



Copyright 2009 by Randy Cook