Death and tango

he connection with death is inherent to the origins of our city music. The wars in the second half of the nineteenth century, the ethnic and religious persecutions and famine were all forms of violence that in the European continent generated migratory movements towards our country, precisely, to avoid death. There were also arrivals from places of the Middle East —but in smaller numbers—, coming from where now Libya and Syria are.

The social framework where that early tango appeared corresponded to Buenos Aires in 1880 which had a population of 210.000 inhabitants. A large portion of it was product of that immigration. In 1910, because of this phenomenon, the city grew up to 1.200.000 inhabitants and tango reached its recognizable way.

We are in the presence of a testimonial resultant that can be only understood through a comprehensive vision of our history and of our culture. This incredible cultural fusion of so many different bloods with our Spanish and native vein made the miracle of expressing itself in a musical and spiritual communion. It is an unprecedented synthesis that made tango a universal and incomparable genre in which the Italians who arrived in a large number made an outstanding contribution.

Death appears in tango —either in its titles or in its lyrics— with different meanings. As for the former let us remember “El tango de la muerte”, title of two numbers with the same name; “Balada para mi muerte”; “El beso de la muerte” by Osmán Pérez Freire and Antonio Viergol; “Hasta la muerte” by Juan Maglio; “La mariposa y la muerte” by Armando Pontier and Leopoldo Marechal; “La muerte de milonguita” by Francisco Canaro and Héctor Bonatti, among many others. As for the poetic approach, it is mainly focused on human beings, physical death and, on many occasions, the abstract one, but there are also some titles referring to Nature which also has its deceased.

The end of life, that is to say, death as such, appears in that classic of the Gardelian songbook that we all remember because of its, extremely painful, story:

Sus ojos se cerraron...
y el mundo sigue andando.

This phrase, wisely achieved, is a dramatic synthesis of the inconsolable sadness due to the death of the loved woman. And what can we say about the second section!:

¡Por qué sus alas tan cruel quemó la vida!,
¡por qué esta mueca siniestra de la suerte!
Quise abrigarla y más pudo la muerte,
¡Cómo me duele y se ahonda mi herida!
(“Sus ojos se cerraron” by Carlos Gardel and Alfredo Le Pera)

It is a heartbreaking moment described by Le Pera; we see its character as if we were watching a movie. But the melancholic and romantic summation, all poetry, is in the Homero’s lines:

Su voz no puede ser,
su voz ya se durmió.
¡Tendrán que ser nomás
fantasmas de mi alcohol!
(“Tal vez será mi alcohol”, by Lucio Demare and Homero Manzi)

There are many more examples:

Paloma, cómo tosías
aquel invierno, al llegar...
Como un tango te morías
en el frío bulevar...
(“La que murió en París”, by Enrique Maciel and Héctor Blomberg)

Or that classic:

En un bulín, cuatro velas
alrededor de un cajón,
en el cajón una muerta
y una imagen del Señor.
(“Ofrenda maleva”, by Guillermo Cavazza and Jacinto Font)



There are cases in which the protagonist announces his own death:

Llegará, tangamente, mi muerte enamorada,
yo estaré muerto, en punto, cuando sean las seis.
(“Balada para mi muerte”, by Astor Piazzolla and Horacio Ferrer)

Something similar occurs in those bitter words written by Podestá:

Esta noche para siempre terminaron mis hazañas
un chamuyo misterioso me acorrala el corazón,
alguien chaira en los rincones el rigor de la guadaña
y anda un algo cerca 'el catre olfateándome el cajón.

It is the announcement of a near death, the confession of a resentful man, full of animosity, far from God, disappointed with his own life, a pagan death:

Yo quiero morir conmigo,
sin confesión y sin Dios,
crucificao en mis penas
como abrazao a un rencor.
Nada le debo a la vida,
nada le debo al amor:
aquélla me dio amargura
y el amor, una traición.
(“Como abrazado a un rencor”, by Rafael Rossi and Antonio Podestá).

Also a variant, in the field of people, turns out the end of love, the death of feelings and even the feelings of death. An example: Camilloni’s lyrics when he tells us about the pain of the forsaken lover:

Fuimos los dos un alma
inseparable
y de pronto hacia el olvido
se desvió tu corazón.
(“Cuando muere una esperanza”, by Arturo Gallucci and Julio Camilloni)

And when it gets dark nostalgia kills:

Noche oscura de tu pelo
que pintó mi espera larga.
Noche oscura de este sueño
que en una guitarra
se muere de amor.
(“Se muere de amor”, by Pedro Maffia and Cátulo Castillo)

As for lyrics referred to passion and desire, we have those lines that Floreal Ruiz made famous:

Tu boca puede más que mi cordura
y me tortura la tentación,
con sólo imaginar que tú me besas
ardo en intensa fiebre de amor.
(“Muriéndome de amor”, by Manuel Sucher and Carlos Bahr)

It turns out evident, throughout the whole development of tango, that this man had an uncontrollable “love fever”.

In the following tango we have a variant concerning a death threatening. A prisoner shows his revengeful wish:

Te debo un vuelto, acaso una bicoca,
para saldar la deuda, gran berreta,
y te prometo, por lo que a mi me toca,
que apenas salga, chau
ya sos boleta.
(“Boleta”, by Enrique Cadícamo)

A special commentary deserves suicide. There are several tangos that refer to it but, as it usually happens with tango lyrics, in different ways.

Al suicidio consciente hacés la pera
aguardando tal vez una sorpresa.
Pero un día, quizás en la oficina,
sin darte cuenta de que ya estás harto,
quedándote en la boca una aspirina
te piantarás del todo en un infarto.
(“El piro (El escape)”, milonga by Edmundo Rivero and Luis Alposta)

The guy had not enough courage to commit suicide but died all the same. Another similar case that, without mentioning the word, suggests the possibility:

¡Cruel en el cartel, te ríes, corazón!
¡Dan ganas de balearse en un rincón!
(“Afiches”, by Atilio Stampone and Homero Expósito)

But the most suitable example was given by my friend Alposta:

Le dio manija al gas, cerró con llave...
y en la mesa quedó como una clave
la boleta del Prode con tres puntos.
(“Tres puntos”, milonga by Edmundo Rivero and Luis Alposta)

A very curious case, with music by the Zorzal Criollo, is found in those words that express the fear for failing in the attempt, a failed suicide.

Pero hay cosas, compañero,
que ninguno las comprende:
uno a veces se defiende
del dolor para vivir,
como aquel haciendo alarde
del coraje en el sufrir
no se mata de cobarde
por temor de no morir.
(“Me da pena confesarlo”, by Carlos Gardel, Alfredo Le Pera and Mario Battistella)

It is really a nicely achieved metaphor that describes an incredible parable of the psychology of the character.

But if there is a really original tango that refers to death is, no doubt, that one in which the deceased gives advice to the living. And, furthermore, its lyrics contain a beautiful poetry with a profound tenderness:

Hoy, que no estoy,
como ves, otra vez
con un tango que no puedo gritar...
Yo, que no tengo tu voz...
Yo, que no puedo ya hablar...

And later:

Nunca quieras mal,
total
la vida ¡qué importa!
Si es tan finita y tan corta
que al fin,
el piolín se corta...
No te aflija el esquinazo
del dolor,
y si el amor te hace caso,
no le niegues tu pedazo
de candor,
que el lindo creerle al amor...
(“Mensaje”, by Enrique Discépolo and Cátulo Castillo)

What a tango! But we could not expect something less from these two giants.



Turning the page, in the natural environment, themes referring to animal and vegetable death are not many. We shall mention some: “Mi caballo murió” (by Modesto Romero Martínez with lyrics by Anselmo Cuadrado Carreño), “Mueren los caranchos” (milonga by Néstor Feria), “La mariposa y la muerte” (by Armando Pontier and Leopoldo Marechal), from the LP 14 Con el Tango —produced by Ben Molar—, “En tu pecho muere una rosa” (by Alfredo De Angelis and Marvil).