Tango is big in Helsinki.  This is one of the most delightful things I have ever heard.  Music is a moveable feast and, in travelling, liberates itself.  Tango was looked down upon by the polite classes of Buenos Aires as a music of the gutter, until it suddenly became a big hit in Paris.  Then of course, it was very much claimed as one of their own, all along.

Tango, like Punk Rock, is where you find it.  We go where the love is.  Or not.  You may need to leave home to come back to it.  But, by then, home may well be somewhere else entirely.

“You can write Tango with one finger and yet with the soul

A tango is intimacy which hides itself

It is the cry which rises up naked

It is in the air like the air itself

In the curved flight of the birds

In peeling walls showing the scab of bricks

You will find it in the farthest corner

And in the angle formed by your heart and mine” -Discépolo

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