Only two types of music in the world Each morning, after the milonga, we would have breakfast and coffee on the terrace, and Marko would play tango music. This morning was no different. This was our last full day in Poreč. I felt I was impregnated with tango to my bones. These guys were all about tango. We either danced at the milongas, attended classes, listened to the music, practiced just about anywhere - anytime, talked about tango (these people never run out of tango talk)... Tango was the DNA of our days and nights. 'Normal' started to feel like a past life. Still, I would try to bring in some break from all that tango. »Marko?« »Yes, Blaž?« »I wonder... do you mind playing some none-tango music?« »No, of course not. What would you like to hear?« »Oh, I don't know. What do you have?« I moved my chair closer to be able to see on Marko's computer screen. »Here. You can see if you like something. But I mostly have tango music.« I scanned through the folder structure. Now, before I continue with the story, let me explain how I organize my music:
Scanning through Marko's folders, I was flabbergasted to discover he only had 2 main folders:
I raised my eyebrows and looked at Marko. His face was shining. »Marko. This is it? This is what you have of music that's not tango?« »Yes. Do you want me to play some of these songs?« The guy was clueless. I couldn't tell whether he didn't see my reaction, didn't care of was having fun at my expense. »No! Of course not. You only have the cheesiest pop hits. Are you serious with this?« »I didn't like music much before tango. I love tango music, though.« »Yes, I can see that!« I looked at the girls. Like two Virgin Marys, they looked lovingly upon Marko. I gave up. I told Marko I was fine with him continuing playing tango music for us. He smiled and nodded his head, as if he wanted to tell me, I had made the right decision. Later this became our joke. We would see all the musical universe as only two worlds: tango and cortinas. Any non-tango musical event would be referred to as a 'cortina party'. So, if you are reading this and you're not a tango dancer yourself, the next time someone asks you what kind of music you like... you know what to say ;) Cry-baby Marko promised to make a playlist we would enjoy. I didn't want to comment on that. My ears were yearning to hear some nice soulful funky cortinas. But since the three of them wanted to listen to tango (after 6 hours spent at the milonga, mind you), I didn't want to assert my needs further. Tango music played. Marko immediately became the conductor of an invisible orchestra. Sanja went 'Ohhhhh.' I exchanged a dumb-struck look with Agnieszka. She was the most sane out of the three. She could still be helped. But then she recognized the song and went 'Ohhhh' too. Another soul was lost. I let it go. 'When in Rome...' I looked around. We occupied a terrace, adorned with flowers. Close to the terrace, a cherry tree had been growing. No cherries were there, but the bees were still flying around, curious. The cool breeze slowly giving way to July sun, spreading its wings over our street, promising another hot day. »Blaž, which tango songs do you like,« Marko asked. »Oh, I don't know. To me they all sound about the same. Oh, wait, I actually like Di Sarli's Cascabelito.« »Aha, that is a nice one.« »Anyway, it doesn't matter if I like a song. It matters if I find it suitable for dancing,« I explained. »I seem to like songs with strong beat and fast tempo. But I couldn't tell you now. I only get to know when I'm actually on the dance floor. My body knows.« »Aha, I understand. OK, I will play some songs for you and you will tell me if you feel you would like to dance to them. OK?« »Um. OK, I can try.« Marko played song number 1 and looked expectantly at me. I closed my eyes and tried to feel the music. I wasn't sure. »Um. I think I like it.« »Good. How about this one?« Marko would play about 3 more songs and the scene just repeated itself. I could hardly tell the difference. It was always some Spanish guy tearing his heart out in front of his friends, a band with no drummer. Apparently the songs Marko proposed to me were all very special songs. Sanja went 'Ohhhh' on cue and would always have a story to tell of how she danced there and then with that guy... and sometimes, in her stories, that guy would be Marko, and then they would look in each other's eyes like two love birds... and sometimes Agnieszka would join the cooing too. »Now listen to this one,« Marko announced. I paid close attention. Some 30 seconds in - nothing. No reaction inside of me. I opened my eyes again to confess to Marko that the beauty of the songs escaped me. Marko was again conducting the Orquesta Tipica Invisibla with one hand, the other one resting on his chest, to heal his bleeding heart, maybe. His face was getting more and more wrinkled and red. He opened his eyes and – Io and behold – he was crying. He didn't cry a single tear, like beautiful actresses do on screen. His whole body was struggling. His mouth was deformed by convulsions, eyes red and watering. He would not drop the conducting, though. I was in a bit of a shock, to put it mildly. I looked at Sanja. She was the Mother Mary, hoovering about Marko, sharing his emotion and on the verge of tears herself. The scene was bizzare. I looked around to see if David Lynch was there. »Oh, or this one. You – you – you... can not but feel this one - one,« Marko assured me through tears. The new song was a real challenge for Sanja. She had to use her hand to prevent a tear from running down her cheek. But she managed to stay somewhat composed. Marko didn't even try. He was cooking in the sweet and painful beauty of tango music, openly crying while trying to speak. »Marko, sometimes I am a bit scared of you,« Agnieszka confessed. I couldn't have agreed more! Here's the best part: Marko reacted in no way to what Agnieszka had just said. He didn't even feel being adressed by her words or let alone my terrified reaction to his behaviour. He was devoured by music, immersed beyond self-reflection. He did not have to defend himself. There was no self to defend and no defender. He was all-consumed by the love, supposedly inherent in tango music. He played his favourite music, showing what it meant to him, openly, without showing off. My heart opened for this guy. So weird. So pure. And he didn't even speak Spanish. Now and then, Sanja would translate some lyrics for him. He would embrace the meaning of the words with gratitude and more tears. »I never cry for anything,« Marko regained some composure. »I only cry for beauty. I find it in tango music.« I could relate to that. I remembered Mondo Grosso's North star would send tears down my cheeks like a charm. Sanja and Agnieszka both confessed that it is a very normal thing to listen to tango and cry. They would experience it often themselves. Sanja assured me I too would become a 'tango cry-baby' soon. My tango heart The flood of emotions passed. Marko stopped playing music. Our time on the terrace was getting slow, with occasional burst of conversation. They talked about the beautiful tandas they had had that night, the tandas they still wanted to have, the tandas they danced out of courtesy, the tandas that were supposed to be beautiful but failed to live up to the expectation... They were doing checks and balances of their festival days, whereas pleasure in a tanda was the currency. I was mostly quiet the whole time. We had to keep moving the table and chairs to get away from the sun. Soon, the sun would light the whole terrace. Soon it would be time to finally get some rest. »What about you, Blaž,« Agnieszka asked. »How has Poreč been for you so far?« »Oh. My tango heart is still very small. It has been filled to the brim a while ago.« »Ohhh,« the ladies went. One even admitted to be holding back a tear. I was full of love even before I said that, but now the love was overflowing, filling up my entire being. I felt alive. My eyes were soft and my heart awake. I was silent inside. While they talked about something, I took a good look at them. I felt blessed to have experienced my first tango festival in the company of these guys. They have become my tango tribe. They initiated me into the love and spirit of tango. There was no ritual per se. Yet everything we did and said was ritualistic. From driving to the classes, cooking, cleaning, dressing up for the milonga, walking home together from the milonga, the long morning talks on the terrace... all one big ritual. And all flowing effortlessly. This was the power of the tribe. We come together for the fire. We enjoy each other's faces, brightened up by the fire. The way I saw it, a tribe would thrive as long as its members stayed true to their love of fire, beyond anything else of a more personal nature. Thank you, fire. Thank you summer. Thank you Sanja, Agnieszka, Marko. Thank you Poreč. ! All the other festival days (part 2) is the final episode of The Poreč series. Thank you for being a loving audience !
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AuthorBlaz B, social tango dancer since February 2015. I'm sharing these posts to inspire future tango beginners, to encourage today's beginners and to possibly entertain those dancers, who have already become regulars at tango heaven.
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