I couldn’t dance the tango if my life depended on it, but I have fallen in love with the music. I have thrown myself into the hotly emotional world of Granados, Piazzolla, Albeniz.
These lushly romantic pieces seemed the natural extension from the Gershwin preludes I was playing a few weeks ago. My teacher seems to have a bottomless treasure trove of old music.
It’s tricky to play for many reasons. The most obvious is the rhythm that is counter-intuitive to my ears and my heartbeat. The natural accompaniment to the tango is a guitar; so the piano must mimic the guitar strings.
As I look at Piazzolla’s “Adios Nonino”, I see a note on the first page “con honda tristeza” -- with great sorrow, in fact a wave of sadness. It’s music that is simply exuding love.
Sitting down to practice is a chance to experience the tango as my feet never will. I think the effect is the same.