Milonguero X

Sharing an excellent post from a well-known US Tango Blogger......

Among the many low-resolution videos once hosted on the blog Tango and Chaos in Buenos Aires (1) there is one of an unidentified couple. The video is filmed in such a way that the dancers’ bodies are visible only from the shoulders down. They are not performers, and it is obvious from the blurred face of the man in one short section of the video that he does not wish to be identified. What we know from the video is that he is portly—he bears the “panza de milonguero” that seems to typify many old-school dancers—and is dressed plainly in a white shirt and dark slacks. He appears to be middle age. The woman is younger, slender and, to judge by her dress, might be in her early thirties.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uaoa-Gk2Znw

Why did Rick McGarrey, the author of the blog, choose to include this video in his collection of milongueros? What is so special about this rather ordinary looking man dancing at a rather ordinary milonga? At the end of the section discussing the importance of the compás in tango, McGarrey concludes his description of the video as follows:

“X has been dancing tango all his life, but this is the only time he’s ever been filmed. No one will ever know who he is, or anything about him—but at least what he does has been saved. We’ve filmed a hundred milongueros and a thousand plus tangos, but these are the moments I wait for. They make it all worth it. As far as I’m concerned, you can take all the stage shows and all the Campeonatos del Mundo the city wants to sponsor and throw them in the Riachuelo. One tango like this is worth more than all of them.” (2)

In this brief concluding paragraph, McGarrey reveals something important about tango and its cultural position. He highlights the distinction between the century old traditions of social tango, the tango of the pista and the arrabal, of the conventillos and bars that typified its origins, and the celebratory pyrotechnics of tango escenario as exemplified in the annual competition of the Mundial, held in Buenos Aires.

What is so striking about the juxtaposition is that the very anonymity of this milonguero, his refusal to be known, is central to his importance. For he is both an embodiment of the social traditions of tango, with all its murky history and rigorous codes, as well as one of its best exemplars. Whether he is the absolute best or not is irrelevant, what is important is that this unknown man, filmed by McGarrey’s camera at a local milonga, represents something that brilliant technique and flashy choreography can never provide. What stands out in this tango is its unstudied ease and almost deliquescent smoothness, its refusal to draw attention to itself, and the intense focus on the music. In a sense, as the quote implies, these two modes exist in two different worlds, two different realms of experience.

One captures the simple beauty of social tango at its best, of dancing for one’s partner; the other is a spectacle of performative sexuality intended to surprise and please an audience.

That being said, it is important to note that X’s tango is no simple matter or McGarrey would not have used it to exemplify the importance of the compás. In fact, he is quite explicit about the level of sophistication involved in this seemingly ordinary visual passage.

For myself, Milonguero X has become a kind of touchstone; he is the mentor I wish I had had.

In his skill, his musical interpretation, his ability to dig deep into the heart of Troilo’s “La Maleva” and paint a picture of its unfolding narrative, in the manner in which he guides his partner, he is everything that is most vital in social tango. This couple moves effortlessly throughout the dance, using relatively simple patterns. There is nothing flamboyant in their movements, nothing that calls them to our attention.

Here I would like to quote a short passage from a different, but not entirely unrelated, form of expression—theater (3). It is a reference to a theater piece built around ideas found in the work of French philosopher Simone Weil. “Although anonymity is a process that will never be reached, the director still needs to set it as a goal to ensure that the work is not a celebration of the ego but a means of communication with the other.”(4)

This statement comes from a different world, a different place, but it highlights the relationship between anonymity and communication, the growing bond between them as ego withdraws. I suspect that Simone Weil’s philosophy was not uppermost in Milonguero X’s mind while he was dancing, but he manages, nevertheless, to capture what is most relevant in applying Weil’s ideas to the theater: anonymity and  communication.

There are, of course, many brilliant and well-known celebrities in the tango world. Their skill, their creativity, their dedication has always impressed me. But I have always been moved by this anonymous milonguero and the seeming ease with which he brings this tango of Troilo to life on the dance floor. For ultimately that is what tango is about.

Yes, it is about “connection,” about reaching out to someone and offering them a place near your heart.

But it is also, and perhaps more importantly, about being within the music, and making that music visible. It is not exactly a question of interpretation, of showing the various ways in which a song can be displayed (isn’t that the purview of the performer?), but of being inside the music, of becoming the tango you are dancing.

This is something that cannot easily be taught—call it skill, call it artistry, call it whatever you like. We can study musical structure, we can study musicality, we can try to make our tango as rhythmic as the music, we can even choreograph our steps to closely coincide with that music. But we cannot simply become that music, we cannot be within it. For that we need to let go and follow Mr. X.

1. Tango and Chaos in Buenos Aires is not exactly a blog. It is a personal memoir, an instructional manual, and a history, a kind of compact encyclopedia of social tango. It was started by Rick McGarrey in 2001 and ended about 2010, which is when it was last updated. The site is still available online. Unfortunately, none of the old Flash files will play, so most of the author’s video documentation is missing. If you are unable to access the site, the server may be down. That happens from time to time, so please be patient. After a short hiatus, it comes back to life.

Some of the original videos, including this one, have been preserved on YouTube. For those who are interested, they can be found here: Tango and Chaos on YouTube

2. Source: Chapter 6: The Nuts and Bolts of Tango: Slowing Down.

3. For the relationship between tango and theater, see: Tango as theater.

4. Tyrone Grima, “Simone Weil: Performance Through Nothingness.” Critical Stages/Scènes critiques: The IATC journal/Revue de l’AICT, June/Juin 2022: Issue No 25.

By R. Bononno on May 17, 2026

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