Your favourite Tango

Oct 1, 2026 · @Pekka

Last Tuesday, I arrived at the Practilonga, and Manfred had just put on “La abandoné y no sabía” by Ricardo Tanturi with Enrique Campos, 1944. I could happily sing along to the whole thing, admittedly in the wrong key, but with plenty of feeling.

22 years ago, this Tango was my absolute favourite, because I had seen Ezequiel and Lucía dance the most incredible Rücksacada to it, which I’d watched again and again. Since then, I’ve probably had a hundred more favourite Tangos, and many of them have stuck with me.

That’s what this text is all about: how to find your favourite Tango, and the wonderful things that happen when you really open up to it.

It’s completely normal to think, at first, that all Tango music sounds exactly the same. But hopefully, something in one of the pieces will eventually grab you. For a long time, it didn’t happen to me. I mostly listened to electronic Tango and late Piazzolla. But I was a fan of Eze and Lucía, and that’s how it happened with the Tango mentioned above. Before that, it had been Chicho and the same Lucía, and I’d picked up favourite Tangos from them too, also via video. Sometimes a Tango sticks with you because you danced that particular one with someone very special, and you remember it much later. I still recall who I danced with in Copenhagen 2006 to Pero Yo Sé by Fresedo. I couldn’t stand that song before, but ever since: oh yes! It’s a little magic trick, if you just open yourself up. An acquaintance of mine impressed me when he told me how he and his wife would choose one Tango from every Milonga they’d danced at and add it to their playlist. Music is good for our memory... and here, it’s about memories being good for our musicality. You can approach it differently too: when a singer is clearly moved by emotion, try reading the lyrics... and as you read them over and over, and can sing along to a word or two here and there... sometimes a Tango becomes a favourite. Perhaps it suddenly has something to do with our lives, with the situation we find ourselves in.

I thought I’d write this down because someone told me recently that no matter what I’d say about a particular musician, they wouldn’t remember it in a few months. Which, by the way, would be another way to find favourite Tangos – by listening to what someone else says about their love for Tango. I know many of my friends’ and acquaintances’ favourite orchestras, because it’s something emotional for me. There’s nothing academic about it.

Right, so let’s say you get to that point and you’ve had a lovely dance to a special Tango, or heard something cool, or been moved by a singer. Remember that moment. Ask the DJ for the title, take a picture of the display (unless it’s Jonas Maria, who’ll rip your head off if you try that), note it down on your phone. Dare to explore it a bit and surrender to that love; otherwise, it won’t work. It’s okay for it to be replaced again – it doesn’t have to be monogamous. Favourite Tangos aren’t vows of allegiance, but doors. Whoever walks through one will find the next behind it. But walk through that first door, and give it a chance. That means you’re allowed to dig for a bit of information. That turns a lovely song into a relationship.

The lyrics: What’s being sung and what does it mean, what’s it about? Who’s speaking, to whom? Often, a single sentence changes how you hear a phrase.

The orchestra: Who’s playing? Who’s singing? When was it recorded?

You don't need to have a "historical" interest in it, but if you want to weave the relationship further:

The era: What was happening in Buenos Aires at the time? For my love song "La abandoné..." that doesn’t matter, I can understand the lyrics without it.

The people: Little stories bring musicians to life. Enrique Campos came from Montevideo and was actually called Troncone. Tanturi supposedly found his stage name by chance in a phone book. That only interests me in this case because I also like this guy, Campos, because he has such a cool voice that, for me subjectively, warps space multi-dimensionally when I listen.

Other versions: Has another orchestra recorded your favourite song, or are there versions from different years by the same orchestra? Do the other versions move you in the same way? That helps you figure out what touches you most. For my song, I found a version by Chanel, but Pugliese with Chanel never moves me as much as Tanturi-Campos.

As you listen, ask yourself: What exactly do I like? Is it the voice? The rhythm that pulls you forward? A violin suddenly playing on its own? A pause where everything stands still? Try to name those moments. Just searching sharpens your ear.

What I love to do, and I got this from Detlef Engels, is to dance the Tango in my imagination with my eyes closed. When I asked Detlef about his most musical and moving dance experience, it was a dance he had done completely alone in his head :-D. That was in 2005; maybe by now he’s had a spark with an actual person.

See what happens after you’ve heard it 2, 20 or 30 times. Does it slowly start to sound more like “mine” now?

And then, tell me about it when we next see each other!

So, you don’t have to do anything at all. You should follow your feelings and can’t force your taste. But when it comes to Tango, especially here in Germany, I constantly hear people say they can’t get into this music. And I can’t help but think it’s exactly the same in every relationship. If you’re interested in the other person and put a little effort into the love, only then does something truly develop. If you give up beforehand, the relationship never had a chance.