#Tanturi

[tangovalsmilonga]

Tanda of the week 49-2013: Ricardo Tanturi (tango)

Finally I prepared a Tanturi / Campos tanda for the week 49 of 2013. I think their early recordings are best and I started with 1943 recordings and continued with 1945 recordings. I think the tanda is both romantic and energetic. I hope you’ll enjoy while you dancing. Have a nice tango. The tracks are:Ricardo Tanturi / Enrique Campos: Una emoción (1943)Ricardo Tanturi / Enrique Campos: Oigo tu…

[witch-of-the-writing-desk]

(1) Vaggie and Charlie Dance the Cha Cha to Conga by Gloria Estefan

(2) Lucifer and Alastor Dance Hip Hop to Grind on Me by Pretty Ricky

(3) Carmilla Carmine and Zestial Dance Tango to Así Se Baila El Tango by Alberto Castillo and Ricardo Tanturi

(4) Husk and Angel Dust Dance Waltz Bite by Derivakat

(5) Rosie and Niffty Dance Contemporary California King bed by Rihanna

The Judges: The Vees

Host: Frank the Egg Boi

[iamkenlee-blog]

룬빠르도 중 가루파(garufa)

룬빠르도(Lunfardo)는 땅고 초기 시절 부에노스아이레스 일부 지역에서만 통용된 속어를 말한다. 기원은 lombardo 또는 lumbardo에서 왔다고 하는데, 19세기 말 감옥에서 (감독관이 못 알아듣도록) 죄수들끼리만 사용되는 비밀 언어였다고. 아마도 땅고 초기 이태리 이민자들에 의해 도입된 듯하다.

현재 약 5천 단어가 확인되고 있다 하고, 이를 땅고 가사에 적극 도입한 인물로는 빠스꾸알 콘뚜르시(Pascual Contursi)가 거론된다.

가루파(garufa) 역시 사전에는 나오지 않지만, 정황상 사전에 나오는 'garulla = 송이에서 딴 포도, 품질이 떨어진 포도알'의 변형으로 보인다.

todotango에는 두 가지 용례가 나온다. "andar de garufa = 빈둥빈둥 거닐다", “garufa = 재밌는 사람, 즐거운 사람”. 한국말로 의역하면 "한량"이 아닐까 싶다.

'Una Noche de Garufa'는 에두아르도 아롤라스가 작곡하고 가브리엘 끌라우씨(Gabriel Clausi)가 작사했다. 최초 녹음은 1927년 후안 마글리오(Juan Maglio)인 듯하고, 밀롱가에선 1941년 녹음한 리까르도 딴뚜리(Ricardo Tanturi) 연주가 종종 나온다.

제목을 '한량의 밤'이라고 하자니 어감이 좀 이상해서 다시 찾았더니 한량 외에 "시끌벅적하게 춤추고 술 마시는 축제 또는 여흥"이란 뜻도 있음을 앎. 즉 '축체의 밤'으로 해석하는 게 더 자연스러워 보인다.

"Ricardo Tanturi - Una Noche de Garufa"

'No Te Quiero Mas = 더는 너를 원치 않아'는 1924년 후안 바우어(Juan Baüer)란 인물이 작사, 작곡했다. 로베르또 삐르뽀를 존경해서 삐르삐또(Firpito)란 별명으로 불렸다고.

가사에 '가루파'가 나오는데 마찬가지로 '한량'보다는 '축제'가 더 어울리는듯. 아마도 시간이 흐르며 의미가 바뀐 거 아닐지.

"더 이상 널 사랑하지 않아. 널 볼 수 없어. 가루파에 빠져 지낼거야. 이젠 다른 사랑이 생겼어. 그게 인생이야. 어쩔 수 없다. 더 이상 고통받고 싶지 않아, 여자 때문에"

"Enrique Rodriguez - No Te Quiero Mas by Alex Moncada & Martina Waldman"

[rj100789]

Watch "German & Nicolas Filipeli. Tango lessons: Tanturi musically. Milonga Zandunga.4/24/23 Washington DC" on YouTube

[alberto-alpozzi-fotografo-torino]

26 gennaio 1887. Nel massacro di Dogali l’indeterminatezza dell'Italia di ieri e di oggi

26 gennaio 1887. Nel massacro di Dogali l’indeterminatezza dell’Italia di ieri e di oggi

24 gennaio 1887: “non attaccare tanta importanza a quattro predoni che possiamo avere fra i piedi in Africa” rispondeva il Ministro degli Esteri Di Robilant ad un’interpellanza dell’opposizione sulla situazione in Africa.Due giorni dopo, il 26 gennaio, alla confluenza del rio Dogali col torrente Desset la colonna del Tenente Colonnello De Cristoforis fu totalmente annientata e massacrata da…

[tangovalsmilonga]

Tanda of the week 3-2013: Ricardo Tanturi / Alberto Castillo (vals)

Bu hafta sırada vals var ve evet, daha değinilecek çok ses ve çok orkestra bulunuyor. Bu yüzden daha önce yer vermediğim bir orkestradan örnekler sunmak istedim. Bu hafta Ricardo Tanturi orkestrasının 1940’lı yıllarda Alberto Castillo ile kaydettiği valslerden bir seçki hazırladım. Hem Tanturi’nin hem de Castillo’nun epey valsi var, fakat ikisinin birlikte olduğu 5-6 vals kaydı bulunuyor.…

[damianztango]

Pocas palabras, ¡vieja amiga!... Pocas palabras es mejor... Ya ves... el mundo sigue igual sin nuestra unión sentimental... Pocas palabras de lo de antes... No conversemos más de amor, de aquel amor que ya pasó, pero que aun no murió... #pocaspalabras #tanturi #damianzuñigatango #anselmosociocultural (en San Luis, Argentina) https://www.instagram.com/p/BwS3jrBl8PHsom9JRZDVJTRSxpB4czL52cyDv80/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=ts3kxrwqakvl

[tarimanat]

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A post shared by ᗰᗩGᗩᘔIᑎE de una 𝑳𝒊𝒇𝒆𝕋𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 (@nat.lifetaster)

𝐿𝑎 𝙖𝙣𝙨𝙞𝙚𝙙𝙖𝙙 𝑒𝑚𝑝𝑖𝑒𝑧𝑎 𝑎 𝑟𝑒𝑖𝑛𝑎𝑟, 𝑑𝑒𝑏𝑒𝑚𝑜𝑠 𝑠𝑒𝑟 𝑓𝑢𝑒𝑟𝑡𝑒𝑠. Atrás quedaron los tiempos para las 𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒂𝒄𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔, ya 𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒈𝒂𝒎𝒐𝒔 𝒏𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒔 𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒂𝒔 𝒄𝒐𝒏 𝒎𝒊𝒍 𝒄𝒐𝒔𝒂𝒔, ya convertimos la #cuarentena en estrés diario... 𝕃𝕠 𝕖𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕞𝕠𝕤 𝕙𝕒𝕔𝕚𝕖𝕟𝕕𝕠 𝕒𝕝 𝕣𝕖𝕧𝕖́𝕤. Tenemos la oportunidad de romper nuestras rutinas y lo convertimos en un «𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒃𝒂𝒋𝒐» con la presión de cumplir con deberes y obligaciones... Bᴼᴼᴹ! Hola ansiedad! Todos los problemas que implica la parálisis mundial es ya suficiente para estar estresado, cuando no es mucho lo que se puede hacer es precisamente el N͓̽O͓̽ H͓̽A͓̽C͓̽E͓̽R͓̽ lo que nos puede mantener en nuestro centro. D̳e̳ a̳l̳l̳í̳ e̳s̳t̳e̳ p̳o̳s̳t̳: es el turno de conectarnos con el lado positivo de la cuarentena, pero desde la calma. 🄷🄰🅉 🄸🄽🅅🄴🄽🅃🄰🅁🄸🄾 🄳🄴 🄻🄰🅂 🄲🄾🅂🄰🅂 🄱🅄🄴🄽🄰🅂 🅀🅄🄴 🄷🄰🅂 🅃🄴🄽🄸🄳🄾 🅈 🄿🅄🄴🄳🄴🅂 🅃🄴🄽🄴🅁 🄶🅁🄰🄲🄸🄰🅂 🄰 🄻🄰 🄲🅄🄰🅁🄴🄽🅃🄴🄽🄰, 🄴🅂🄾 🄰🅈🅄🄳🄰 🄰 🅂🄴🄽🅃🄸🅁 🄿🄰🅉 🅈 🄶🅁🄰🅃🄸🅃🅄🄳. Pero el mensaje más importante está en el corazón: practica el 𝕯𝖔𝖑𝖈𝖊 𝕱𝖆𝖗 𝕹𝖎𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖊! Tienes derecho a hacerlo, en estos tiempos es SANO hacerlo. 🅓🅘🅢🅕🅡🅤🅣🅐 🅔🅛 🅗🅐🅒🅔🅡 🅝🅐🅓🅐! Vivimos en una constante carrera y se nos va la vida sin apreciar lo simple. Eso nos enseña esta práctica, te invito a conocerla. 🌟⚜️🌟⚜️🌟⚜️🌟⚜️🌟 #encuarentena #cuarentenacreativa #dolcefarniente #ansiedad #ansiedadgeneralizada #elladopositivodelcoronavirus #elladopositivo #pensamientopositivo #noestáfácil #amoeltango #tangotime #bailarencasa #asisecanta #tanturi #terapiasencasa #terapiasholisticas #crecimientopersonal #CambioEvolución #HermosaLamparita https://www.instagram.com/p/B_HRVVcn8BS/?igshid=1akzz3xvuarrg

[fotosdebuenosaires]

#Repost @lavidabajounlente • • • • • Monumento a Julio Argentino Roca, en la ciudad de Buenos Aires, Argentina, es una obra conformada por tres esculturas de bronce sobre una base de granito pulido rojo. Inaugurado en 1941, hace honor al teniente general Julio Argentino Roca (1843–1914), político, militar y estadista argentino, artífice de la Conquista del Desierto, dos veces Presidente de la Nación Argentina (1880-1886 y 1898-1904) y representante de la llamada Generación del Ochentaque dirigió la política argentina durante más de treinta años. El conjunto formado por Julio A. Roca sobre el caballo y las dos alegorías que se encuentran sobre el basamento fueron realizadas por el escultor y pintor uruguayo José Luis Zorrilla de San Martín(1891-1975) y el basamento por el escultor Alejandro Bustillo. Se encuentra emplazado sobre la plazoleta Ricardo Tanturi, en la intersección de la Avenida Presidente Julio Argentino Roca (también conocida como "Diagonal Sur") con las calles Perú y Adolfo Alsina, en el barrio de Monserrat. . . #nikon #nikond3400 #nikon_top #nikon📷 #nikonphotography #nikonphotos #nikon_photo #nikonworld_ #mifotoenbuenosaires #bairesgrams #fotosbsas #bsas #bsasfotos #laciudaddelafuria #buenosairescity #igersbuenosaires #buenosairesciudad #mifotoenargentina (en Diagonal Sur) https://www.instagram.com/p/Bwb69KAgvqJ/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1fgawr3r3k4xn

[sidpah]

No Time Like the Present

Orange light fills the horizon as I collapse, having fought against these rigid bars for nearly an hour, the way I do, on and off every day, as I have for weeks, and having found it, as I do every day, utterly hopeless, I now lean against those same bars for support...

Stuck in a cage made for a man half my size, vomiting from dysentery… This island is not very large, but I could be lost here for life, short as it may now be… I could easily become one of the growing statistics who vanish without a trace…

I’ve been privy to much worse than the torments of agoraphobia, generalized anxiety disorder, or the occasional psychotic episode, (worse even than the Judge’s vile display, in fact,) while in the care of these mercenaries… Endless black-hooded torture routines perpetrated in the name of peace and safety… I realize in this, at least, the incredible strength of empathy… Young man, stripped naked by clean green fatigues looking out of place in these stark walls, blood streaks and thick black snakes of dried shit smearing the floor… Rough pockmarks in those walls matching the deep acne-cratered skin on the face of the soldier clamping tight the young man’s wrists. Fingers sunk deep in a can of congealed bacon fat saved from dozens of high lipid breakfasts, another uniformed sociopath lubricates the shaft of a long thin light bulb… The metal end has been delicately removed and the tube filled with tanturi, a traditional thick habanera sauce that locals pour on everything… Black electrical tape seals the vial closed… A woman, short blond hair, a sick puppy-throwing smirk on her face, spreads the prisoner’s cheeks wide, one hand separating pale pillow of flesh, a few feeble hairs in tight anxious spirals, his puckered sphincter exposed and cold and significantly hairier than the surrounding skin; the woman, the mercenary, the soldier, the callous subhuman thing, inserts the lubricated capsaicin-filled bulb deep into the victim. The pleasure she takes in this is a clear indication that she’s conquering an old demon with his grinning mask hung over her own… Bulb fully submersed, they leave the poor captive to his own devices… The mercenaries pretend to retreat, but I know they’re rushing to grab a seat, their asses full of nothing volatile or corrosive, to watch through a two-way mirror built into the far wall as the young prisoner’s face betrays every panicked, agonized, miserable thought in his thoroughly distraught mind. He remains standing, hunched over, not sure what, if anything, to do… His hands are bound tightly in front of his exposed crotch. The bulb is completely sunk inside his body, so retrieval is an obvious impossibility… The crux is that if he sits or makes too sudden a movement, decisive or otherwise, even to the extent of attempting to squeeze out the foreign object, the bulb will shatter and not only shred, but acid-burn his colon in what could only be some of the most ferocious pain imaginable… I imagined. Thinking about his predicament made my ass hurt. I felt it. I felt all that he must’ve been going through… And I realized in this way, that if I choose to picture happy, content, enlightened people, I could perhaps empathize my way to liberation, or at least to a relative semblance of peace… And I now wish I could’ve shared that wisdom with him… Sometimes the price of discovery is quite steep…  

 Footsteps are approaching. I close my eyes already knowing it’ll be that tiny man in black uniform bearing a plate of something so foul I’d rather eat my own diseased diarrhea than one putrid spoonful… A bony hand on my shoulder… fingers long, each knuckle protruding from skin… I open my eyes, eased by his touch… the Healer… His mask removed, a thin blue flame tattooed from his collarbone to a white flicker just beneath his left eyelid… His is a face that could’ve been forged of clay or mortar – no lips, but a place where all features seem to be pulled cascading into a rough gorge of mouth – Grains of sand imbedded in his pores… He sits just outside my cage. In his lap he holds a frail and ancient book… I feel a little better already…

The dry brown page flips with a crisp dignity befitting its age… I look closely at the words written in an unfamiliar script.

“Truth is a Stone,” it says. “He who carries the Stones of Truth aside his triple heart, shall be forever protected, and safe from mortal injury or curse.”

“It no longer tells me anything of value…” echoes through the tiny bones in my ear… Invaders have a way of diluting even the most potent spiritual powers… “I look out upon my people, as they look to me for answers I wish I had…”

Beautiful shapes flicker against palm fronds… He gestures to them…                  

“Reflections of our burning shadows… The malicious winds scatter our ashes, scorching our sacrificial fields… Corn a distant taste in our abscess mouths… Above, the unlined cloud spins its shiny fragile web, making sure every seed has been thoroughly drowned. I would say a prayer for my village, but these barren lands cannot be so easily healed...”

“Have you tried building an army?” I ask.

“As family, we held our ground as best we could against the torrent’s unyielding wail. We even attempted that ancient art of reconciliation… one that was a hallmark of our culture… But their new laws are drafted in oppressed blood, greed of jewels, influence and slow arson fire. Unlike so many, we won’t be tranquilized with their weak dollars and denial…”

I hang my head, shaking it lightly side to side, understanding I have nothing meaningful to say. The motion makes me suddenly seasick. I turn and add a new contribution to the growing puddle of murky fluids beneath me.

“I don’t know who it was who strung gold medallions around their commandant’s necks or what made them feel worthy of our reverence and devotion… standing on our strong backs to reach the highest leaves, while trampling our faces into the mud… They have taken everything… our crops, our treasure, our land, our hope and our gods… Beneath their uniforms, suits, tailored shirts, they learned to hide their unseemly sores, exchanging the humble soul of man for the pride of a philanthropist. These are the gods of our new world… and I spit at every one of them…”

I’m not sure whether he’s finished his thought because before any silence can arise, a soldier rushes up behind him, that black uniform blending in with everything, and bends down to grapple him around his neck. But the soldier never makes it that close. The Healer twists his own neck around with such a sharp snap that my spine aches in sympathy, and flashes a disastrous stare over his right shoulder. The soldier freezes with one foot off the ground and one hand on his rifle… The upper half of his body torques to the right, revolving around his anchored right leg. The soft hollow below the soldier’s ribs lines up above the gun’s muzzle, its stock butted against the ground… and with a blink that I’m not sure his victim has time to register, the Healer sends the man falling in a graceful pirouette that impales him on the barrel of his own rifle. When he turns back to me, there is a sad kindness in his eyes… He acts out of need… He does not enjoy harming others…

I promise to help, whatever help I could be… But first, he must set me free… And help me reclaim the attaché… He nods agreeably. I’ll lead a naïve cabal, I promise him, rending the bricks and smokescreens from the industrialist’s final solution to the rest of Mara’s filthy tricks – (Social activism as a way to purify national karma?) I feel strong and righteous because I know that one incendiary heart is enough to disrupt the status quo; and that a martyr is just an obedient scapegoat for true rebels who know how to band together… How to dismantle the system from within its own walls… There must first be cool awareness of facts to neutralize their malignant deceptions and to stifle the allure of temptation impulse buys from all the coal-black-suited devils who continue to poison the water in this thirsting Promised Land. Who taint all the unsown dreams that burn our palms already blistered from years of fruitless toil...

A flash of spark from his callused palm against the bamboo cage… The feculent slosh around me churns, boiling up with ungodly stench… I can only crawl, but as he lays his hand against my shoulder, my strength begins to return…

We are sailing inches above the ground through a small oasis… Date palms keel over as he passes beneath them, Sun-dried fruit raining down on us like fat cockroaches…  

[castillomirtaester]

Andando por Monserrat reflejado sobre uno de los edificios cercanos se observa la solitaria figura de Julio A. Roca, en lo alto de un monumento tantas veces vandalizado, se mantiene erguido e intocable, al fin de cuentas no es más que una estatua de bronce a la que no alcanzan los ataques de quienes nunca tendrán más meta que la de la destrucción absurda e ignorante porque solamente eso son... Ubicación: Plazoleta Ricardo Tanturi, Avenida Presidente Julio A. Roca (Diagonal Sur) y las calles Perú y Adolfo Alsina, Barrio de Monserrat, Buenos Aires #artemasplus #vistoenbuenosaires #total_buenosaires #total_colors #total_monumentos #total_buenosaires #total_comunity_pics #focus_argentina_ #elbauldelfotografo #gentefoteando #vivir_en_buenos_aires #total_city #igers_buenosaires #total_bairee #onfire_city #onfire_cities #focus_besttravel #focus_allpics #focus_argentina_ #fever_argentina #fever_buenosaires #total_reflexos #total_reflection #focus_reflexos https://www.instagram.com/p/CdrJRNOugVd/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[danserletango]

RASMUS & VINCENT// QUEER TANGO// Argañaraz (Aquellas farras) - TANTURI

[tangomagic]

Il giorno 04 novembre l'Orquesta Ricardo Tanturi, con la voce di Alberto Castillo, incide questo Vals: Recuerdo Database Romántico Tdj www.corsiditango.it #ilovetango #vivalavitahttps://www.facebook.com/groups/tangotoscanahttps://www.instagram.com/corsiditango

[latangerina]

Ricardo Tanturi - Alberto Castillo - Enrique Campos - Tango

[pamini]

Nach dem Training - ist vor dem Training #argentino #argentine #argentinian #argentinien #baile #baileargentino #BuenosAires #BuenosAiresTango #Choreografie #dance #danza #München #elsonidodemitierra #folklorico #futurosi #gira #kultur #milonga #musica #musik #paartanz #parejasdetango #patriziaymichael #patriziaundmichael #kronthaler #PatriziaKronthaler# #MichaelKronthaler #proben #pur #rango #ricardotanturi #roxanasuarez#tango-x #show #tango #TangoTechnikTraining #tango_x #tangoaddicted #tangoargentino #tangobuenosaires #tangodance #tangofolklore #TangoinMünchen #tangopassion #tangox #tanturi #tanz #tanz #tänzer #Tänzer #tour #Training #tv #unanochedegarufa #vida #volkstanz #split #gym #ballett https://www.instagram.com/p/ByVo8l9ivNV/?igshid=15c1004vx3h4f