Saying yes to a tango with a stranger always feels like a radical act of faith. After all, I’m agreeing to step into the unknown. Am I prepared for what might happen? Do I have what it takes? Will I get what I want? Am I good enough? What if it’s bad?
All the questions fire rapidly through my mind, like fireworks. Bright shiny things that cause my breath to slow and my heart to quicken. As he gradually approaches I take in the first impressions. He is handsome, tall, glasses, a tasteful beard. His shirt is unbuttoned one button too much, not uncommon to encounter in Buenos Aires at 3am on a Wednesday. He is steamy (literally and metaphorically) and he smells wonderful from five feet away. We take the embrace and I experience that moment of melting that is the holy grail of connection in tango. His embrace is a cloud, infused with butter, sprinkled with fairy dust. I am convinced there is a halo of light around us. I tune into the music and we begin to move, leisurely steps, smooth motion, my body looking to connect the movement to the music. But as the song progresses I find myself struggling to follow the timing of his lead.
What is he listening to?
Our dance gracefully stumbles and staggers along the floor. The initial pleasure of melting into a cloud has turned into a struggle to keep my axis, as if the ground is randomly shifting under my feet. It reminds me of walking to the bathroom on a flying plane, hopelessly attempting to be graceful.
I finish the dance bewildered. What was that? Was that good? Is it me or did he have absolutely no musicality? He walks me back to my table and invites me to come out to dance that following Friday because he will be performing with the orchestra.
What? Did I hear that correctly? A musician? My Spanish is still in its toddler stage so I decide that I must have misunderstood. But as Friday night rolls around at La Viruta, sure enough, there he is on stage with his violin, playing some of the most explosive tango I have ever encountered.
It must have been me. He probably has a much more refined ear. I should give him another chance.
I seek him out after his performance. We embrace and once again I note to myself how amazing his embrace feels. Surely this is going to be amazing. But no such luck. In the middle of the second song I confront the obvious: he has no sense of musicality as a dancer (even though he is an amazing musician). This was a big lesson: to play an instrument musically and dancing musically are two different things.
A question arose that night for me which I have been meditating on continuously throughout my years of dancing since then.
Would you rather have a comfortable embrace and bad musicality OR good musicality and a crappy embrace?
Answering this question is a personal, unique journey for anyone who begins to ask it and can only be arrived at through experiencing both over time. My own personal journey of exploring this riddle led me to a more important realization. What crystallized in my mind over time was that when making decisions about whom to dance with and whom to avoid, for me it all boils down to these two factors: quality of embrace and sense of musicality.
Is the follower moving with ease (and is she smiling)? This can be an indication of the quality of the embrace.
Can I see the song in the speed and timing of steps? This shows me the level of musicality.
I have found that overall, for me personally, musicality trumps embrace nine times out of ten. This is because I can use music as a bridge between me and my partner regardless of the embrace whereas to dance without a connection to the music feels hollow, no matter how dreamy the embrace or steamy the partner.