ENRIQUE CADICAMO

Enrique Cadícamo has left us. He was the last of the great tango poets, and the integrant of that pleiad formed by Héctor Pedro Blomberg, José González, Cátulo Castillo, Pascual and José María Contursi, Enrique Santos Discépolo, Homero Expósito, Celedonio Esteban Flores, Francisco García Jiménez, Adolfo Le Pera, Homero Manzi and Manuel Romero.

He was the great poet of Buenos Aires, and he sang to very different subjects in his verses: to the fugacious love in “Nostalgias” and “La luz de un fósforo” (“The light of a match”); to the poverty caused by the financial crisis of 1930 in “Al mundo le falta un tornillo” (“The world has a screw loose”); to the return to the family house in “La casita de mis viejos” (“My parent’s little house”); to the reencounter with an old girlfriend in “Por la vuelta” (“For the comeback”); to the loveless woman in “Nunca tuvo novio” (“She never had a boyfriend”); to the neighbourhood in “Tres esquinas” (“Three corners”); to the friendship in “Tres amigos” (“Three friends”); to the cabaret in “Palais de Glace”; to gambling in “Naipe” (“Playing card”); to the night life and the fugacious triumph and latter defeat of “night women” in “Pompas de jabón” (“Soap bubbles”), “Muñeca brava” (“Tough doll”), “Vieja Recova” (“Old Recova”), “¡Che papusa, oí!” (“Hey girl, listen to me”) and “Callejera” (“Street wanderer”); to the melancholy of being far away from Buenos Aires in “Anclao en París” (“Stuck in Paris”); to loneliness in “Garúa” (“Drizzle”); to the Gardel-Razzano duet in “El morocho y el oriental” (“The brunette and the oriental”); to the pain caused by goodbyes in “Los mareados” (“The dizzy ones”); to the anguish of waiting in “No vendrá” (“She is not coming”)…

His lyrics were accompanied by the inspiration of brilliant musicians: José María Aguilar in “The world has a screw loose”; Alfredo Attadía in “Three corners”; Guillermo Barbieri in “Stuck in Paris” and “La novia ausente” (“The absent bride”); “Agustín Bardi” (“She never had a boyfriend”); Eduardo Bonessi in “Desvelo” (“Sleeplessness”); Miguel Caló; Juan Carlos Cobián in “My parent’s little house”, “Nostalgias”, “The dizzy ones”, “Niebla del Riachuelo” (“Riachuelo’s mist”), “Rubí” (“Ruby”), “El cantor de Buenos Aires” (“The singer of Buenos Aires”), “Almita herida” (“Hurt little soul”), “Carnavales de mi vida” (“My life’s carnivals”) and “Como un sueño” (“Like a dream”); Charlo in “Ave de paso” (“Passing bird”) and “Viejas alegrías” (“Old joy”); José Dames; Ángel D’Agostino in “Three corners” and “The brunette and the oriental”; Juan D’Arienzo; Francisco De Caro; Julio De Caro; Enrique Delfino; Roberto Firpo; Fausto Frontera in “Street wanderer”; Roberto Goyeneche in “Soap bubbles”; Pedro Laurenz; Francisco Lomuto; Pedro Maffia; Juan “Pacho” Maglio in “El llorón” (“The crying boy”); Salvador Merico in “De todo te olvidas” (“You forget about everything”); Mariano Mores in “Copas, amigos y besos” (“Drinks, friends and kisses”) and “A quién le puede importar” (“Who cares?”); Ciriaco Ortiz; Eduardo Pereyra in “Madame Ivonne”; Antonio Polito in “En lo de Laura” (“At Laura’s”); Osvaldo Pugliese; Rosita Quiroga in “Apología tanguera” (“Tango defence”); Gerardo Matos Rodríguez in “Hey girl, listen to me”; Rafael Rossi in “Cuando tallan los recuerdos” (“When memories arise”); Rodolfo Sciamarella in “Old recova”; Alberto Suárez Villanueva in “The light of a match”; José Tinelli in “For the comeback”; Aníbal Troilo in “Drizzle”, “Playing card” and “ Pa’ que bailen los muchachos” (“So that the boys can dance”); Luis Visca in “Tough doll”; and even himself, using the pseudonymous Rosendo Luna, in “Three friends”, “She is not coming” and many more.

The same as Verlaine, Cadícamo used grey many times in his descriptions: “Suena menos gris, tango para mí” (“sound less grey, tango for me”) in “Who cares?”; “alondra gris tu dolor me conmueve” (“Grey lark, your pain touches me”) in “Madame Ivonne”; “gime bandoneón tu tango gris” (“bandoneon, moan your grey tango”) in “Nostalgias”; “es la tarde cruel y fría que a mi gris melancolía la convierte en emoción” (“is the cruel and cold afternoon that turns my grey melancholy into emotion” in “When memories arise”; “en este instante gris, un último dolor” (“In this grey moment, the last pain”) in “Ruby”.

Cadícamo knew how to express himself through beautiful poetic figures: “la esgrima sentimental al fin surgió la tarde aquella… la luz de un fósforo fue nuestro amor pasajero” (“the sentimental fencing finally came up that afternoon... our fugacious love was the light of a match”) in “The light of a match”; “la vejez la derrotó” (“Old age defeated her”) in “Old Recova”; “un juego de calles se da en diagonal” (“a game of street happens diagonally”) in “Stuck in Paris”; “hoy vas a entrar en mi pasado” (“Today you are going to be part of my past” in “The dizzy ones”; “llueve sobre el puerto, mientras tanto mi canción llueve lentamente sobre tu desolación… triste caravana sin destino ni ilusión, como un barco preso en la botella del figón” (“It rains on the harbour, while my song rains slowly on your desolation … sad caravan without destiny or illusion, as a ship that’s locked in the tavern’s bottle”) and, reminding us of Federico García Lorca, “puentes y cordajes donde el viento viene a aullar” (“bridges and ropes where wind howls”) in “Riachuelo’s mist”.

He also used unanswered questions, the ubi sunt of Latin classics, as Idea Vilariño and Jorge Gottling say in their books “El tango” (“Tango”) and “Tango, melancólico testigo” (“Tango, melancholic witness”): “¿Dónde andarás Pancho Alsina?” “¿Dónde andarás Balmaceda?” (“Where are you, Pancho Alsina? Where are you, Balmaceda?”) in “Three friends”; ¿Qué habrá sido de la barra?… ¿Y del loco puentecito?” (“What would have happened to the gang? And to the crazy little bridge?”) in “Aquellas farras” (“Those parties”); “¿Dónde estarán los puntos del boliche aquel?… ¿dónde estarán Traverso, el Cordobés y el Noy, el Pardo Augusto, Flores y el Morocho Aldao?” (“where would the guys from that bar be? Where would Traverso, El Cordobés and El Noy, el Pardo Agustín and El Morocho Aldao be?”) in “The singer of Buenos Aires”.

Also with questions, and in Rubén Darío’s style, he wrote in “The absent bride” this stanza filled with beautiful metaphors:

¿Qué duendes lograron lo que ya no existe?

¿Qué mano huesuda fue hilando mis males?

¿Y qué pena altiva hoy me ha hecho tan triste,

triste como el eco de las catedrales?

 

Which hobs achieved what no longer exists?

Which bony hand was spinning my sorrows?

And what proud pain has made my so sad,

Sad as the cathedral’s echo?

Carlos A. Manus