How Tango Got Typecasted
Attempting to visualize a genre that straddles the birth of the album cover
The Art of Cover Art is and will continue to be a free resource for all readers. If you have the means this month, consider upgrading to a paid subscription to support my work. A small donation to my ongoing coffee fund is also always appreciated. Happy reading!
At the beginning of November, I traveled the furthest south I’ve ever been, to Buenos Aires, Argentina. While I didn’t have time to visit all the record stores on my list, I ventured to Eureka Records in the San Telmo neighborhood. Upon entering the shop, a large Tango section greeted me.
Born across Argentina and its neighbor Uruguay in the mid-19th century, Tango music combines various cultural influences from the countries’ vast immigrant populations to create its signature 2/4 and 4/4 pace. Lower-class workers from Africa imparted their festive ways onto the genre. UNESCO writes, “Candombe and Carnival were the backdrop for the evolution of Tango, which for four decades mixed with the most diverse musical and cultural forms until it took on an identity of its own at the end of the 19th century.” European immigrants brought folk touches like the bandoneón instrument, adjacent to the accordion, which became an integral part of the Tango.
According to MasterClass, “musicologists define the golden age of Tango as the years from 1935 to 1952,“ when the upper class finally took note (as is the story of many cultural trends). Singers like Rosendo Mendizábal and Carlos Gardel made their marks on the scene. Interestingly, during Tango’s ascendence, album covers were becoming the norm, with the creation of the first album cover in 1939. It wasn’t until the early 50s, past Tango’s so-called peak, that photographs and colors populated the surface of these records. For a genre whose formative years existed before the birth of the album cover, it’s disappointing to see how Tango has been visually interpreted as a result.
Browsing through Discogs, you’ll find that most Tango covers display couples dancing, red color palettes, and rhythmic footsteps, not unlike the first results of searching the genre on Google Images. Few visual marks from the vast cultural influences that created Tango, from Carnival to European folk, remain. It feels as though these copy-and-paste motifs were thrust upon the genre during the rise of the album cover to stay current and appeal to the new international audience. The advancement feels akin to the modern transition of TikTok and Reels, forced and scarcely original.
When French artist Sonia Delaunay first encountered Tango, she painted the musical genre in large, vivid shapes of color. She was part of the Orphist art movement, a style that “engaged with ideas of simultaneity in kaleidoscopic compositions, investigating the transformative possibilities of color, form, and motion.” Sonia and her peers were inspired by Tango when it “arrived in Paris from Argentina and Uruguay in 1910 and gained instant popularity for its sensual and transgressive qualities,” writes The Guggenheim. Her interpretation of the genre evokes its signature fast pace and gestures, not allowing the viewer’s gaze to focus on any one part. Similar abstract interpretations are found on rare Tango album covers like Carmen Cavallaro’s Tangos for Romance (1952) and Malando And His Tango-Orchestra’s World Famous Tangos (1959).
In 1974, Astor Piazzolla, an Argentine bandoneón player, created a new era of the genre with his composition “Libertango.” “His oeuvre revolutionized the traditional tango into a new style termed nuevo tango, incorporating elements from jazz and classical music,” as the Philadelphia Chamber Music Society noted. The cover of “Libertango” is a dimly lit closeup of Piazzolla’s hand playing his signature bandoneón. The negative space of the immersive black background creates a moody visual, while the warm tones reflecting off the instrument allude to the genre’s sensuality.
What I admire the most about the cover of “Libertango” is how unstereotypical it is of Tango album art. Piazzolla distances himself from the visual themes the genre was forced to adopt. The art returns to the core of Tango, the bandoneón, leaving the frivolous love-adorned accessories behind.
The Art of Cover Art is a free educational and inspirational resource. If you have $5/ month to spare, it would be super helpful in furthering my research. Or, if you think a friend might enjoy this newsletter, the best way to pay it forward is by sharing!