Tango y Rock Chabón

I’ve seen three live performances in actual venues in the last two weeks. The first was a band called ¡Los Fabulosos Cadillacs! A Latin rock group that does whatever it wants and doesn’t really fit into a single genre. They had horns, Latin percussion, electric guitars… you know, the same old stuff. The concert was free, in the giant park in Palermo. It was a teaser for a “comeback tour” that would return to Buenos Aires in December. The second group I saw was called the Babasonicos, a group which was further out there than I could appreciate. They had the standard garage band set-up lead, rhythm, bass, keys, drums, and a singer who pranced around and didn’t do his job all that well. What was more exciting was the venue, Luna Park. It was an indoor stadium with “Prohibido Fumar” written all over the walls, but the smoke was so thick inside you’d think we were at a Tom Petty concert. Pablo, who got his doctorate at Columbia and spent a good chunk of his life in New York, told us it was the equivalent to Madison Square Garden but I couldn’t make the comparison. I didn’t bother recording the Babsonicos, but here’s a bit of Los Cadillacs. You can’t see it but their tenor player has the most amazing crazy hair ever. I thought it’d be important to mention that.

The best show I’ve seen yet was this last Friday; a sextet of Tango musicians playing in a discreet club, hiding deep in San Telmo. The place looked like it just ignored the rest of the world since the forties. From the outside it looked like another brick building, but inside the doors were two sets of purple velvet curtains, between which sat a ticket booth. Yeah, a ticket booth. We were worried because we were told that without reservations they couldn’t seat 11 of us, but it turned out they couldn’t turn down 550 pesos. We got dropped at the bar in the back, looking around aimlessly until someone marched us upstairs to our own private balcony. The place wasn’t a restaurant with a show, it was a club with a kitchen. Art decorated the grey blue walls, each painting with its own lighting that dimmed just enough when the house lights went down. Each table had candles and all faced the stage. The club was about the size of your standard elementary school cafeteria cut in half lengthwise, or I guess in this context it would be safe to return to your memories of fourth grade and say “hot dog style.” We were seated at a long table with high-backed armchairs and had an unobstructed view of the show. Granted, a few of us were shorted chairs and had to sit on the floor. When Ryan ordered some food though, the waiter placed a candle right next to him so he could eat his meal seated on the concrete in style. The table was meant for the performers to sit at before the show, we figured this out because we were separated from the “green room” by only a curtain.

I can’t describe the music and do it justice, but I have plenty of it stored on my computer when I get back (a few of us bought Cds). Until I do, here’s something to hold you over: