The patriotism blind may not this tabloid's readers: the drink that is making a gaucho out of me comes from Misiones. Yet, the infusion's benefits are not enough to assuage its Director's satisfaction; in a case like this, he puts aside his proverbial discretion and unloads even from his elbows.
It is very true that, as De Musset used to say, these times you cannot fling out a poet: whereas the modern exporters of the porteño beauty induce the average tanguero to practise the milonga con traspiè, sin traspiè or with màs o menos de traspiè, to clean himself in the courses of tecnica sucia and to educate himself in dancing the Tomo y obligo's lyrics, The Tangueros Quarterly Review scores an editorial golazo. Not only we publish five pages of great literature, but we are also able to supply our dear readers with some lines of legal musicology. 
Let's proceed in a organized manner, starting with the André Gide's portrait at home by an old acquaintance of ours.  About him, we would say that he often disagreed with himself, like the Irishmen and the ones who have more than one personality.
Fabian Lloyd, alias Arthur Cravan, alias the Oscar Wilde's Nephew, alias the Grandson of the Chancellor to the Queen, alias the Lord Alfred Tennyson's Nephew, alias the Jack Johnson's Challenger, alias the Poet with the world's shortest hair,  sailed from Vera Cruz (Mexico) in November 1918 heading to Buenos Aires on a self-made raft. Officially, he never reached Argentina and was reported missing. On the contrary, that was indeed a coup de theatre or one of his typical tricks. He was used to quit the stage when the second act was lousy.
- Espirè como salivazo del Ponte Saavedra - he said in lunfardo to the Sepelios Garcia* manager, who was sponsor of his last boxing matches in Buenos Aires and proper supplier of his bathrobes and shorts.  Had Arthur Cravan anything to do also with the Tango? We'll see in the next numbers.
Then, we go on with another Crònica del Angel Gris by Alejandro Dolina, who is struggling with a burning topic this time: the privacy confiscation through the fussy guarding of every citizen.
A Loriano Pelizzari's letter follows. I hope he will forgive me from his camp in Sardinia for making it public. It is a missive of friendship and lightness, an ideal piece for the Milongas for one year's popular fresco.
The Juan Gelman's two poems forwarded by Paco Urondo, while quite another celebration is going on, are our tribute to that missing generation of poets and musicians from the swingin' Buenos Aires of the Sixties.
Finally we close with the first installment of the Marco Castellani's introduction to one of the finest stories by Hugo Pratt.

As far as the Piazzolla's anniversary is concerned, - here it is the nifty musicology - we have to admit that even the most titled media have rolled up their sleeves in order to commemorate the great composer properly.  Above all the others, the Giornale della Musica towers for timing and largeness of views since it published a brilliant centerfold with the opinion of us tangueros. The Parnassus top turns out to be within the crook's reach. Our contributor Marco Castellani, who ain't been always left out of this page, hit the mark of the uncut, and well-paid, issue. Without further limit but his talent's will, and gathering informations more from his artistic memory than from the plain Ferrer's Annals, he has actually reconstructed the disputed relationship between Piazzolla and the Tango in just three sheets. To the hypothetical mistery of such events, mr. Castellani has added the real mistery of his ramblig exposition. Anyway we quote the article's end; we intend to publish it in its entirety as soon as the author will give us back the copy - the only proceeds of his hard work - of the outstanding newspaper above mentioned.

The last note regards the dance eventually. Not only did they not dance Piazzolla at the milonga, but even today, with the only exception of Mariachiara Michieli and Alejandro Aquino, they didn't create a tango style equal to the Pugliese's compositions either. The Tango did not evolve as much as the music. On the contrary, we have good reasons to believe it got worse. How disappointing it is nowadays to go to a milonga, even in Buenos Aires!
If the Piazzolla's great heritage looks like a storehouse looted by inexperienced and messy thieves, the dancefloors are crowded with dead men dancing, all embraced in that discouraging apilado style our grandparents had already rejected seventy years ago. Astor Piazzolla is really light-years far!
And while their legs are tangling in the Troilo's version of Quejas de bandoneòn - quite a tango indeed - we think they need someone like Santi Bailo from Kansas City who would tell them: 
“You are already grown-up. It's time you know who wrote this variation”.

* Garcia burials - governed by the extinct

© Jean Fajean, 2002

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