Here is an excerpt from the interview that I like to share:

Q. You dance with pauses, whereas many kids of your age don’t do that.
S.

It has to do with what we were saying before about introspection. It’s when you know that what you’re doing has an expressive purpose and comes from a feeling, you pause to seek that feeling and from that feeling comes the movement. But when one believes that it’s only movement, then one isn’t bothered about seeking what it is that it provokes, lo hace de manera intelectual. Yo no les creo a los phibes hoy!

He is touring in the US this month: this week in San Francisco. Next week in Baltimore.

Here is a recent performance of him and Mariana that I like very much, to a song that I love: Fresedo con Ricardo Ruiz “Buscándote” 1941

In retrospect, my relationship with tango music has gone through the following phases

1. Following the music:

In my first year of dancing in the milonga, I followed the music. And I followed it pretty well. From time to time, women asked me if I played any instrument.

Why? I was curious.  I couldn’t even read music notes, let alone play any instrument. I love listening to all kinds of music, classical, pop, world…, but I was, am still, a music illiterate. You are so musical. They always said, sometimes surprisingly.

But I knew. I was not familiar with most songs that were played in the milongas. Most of time, I just moved to the music that I heard and followed it intuitively.

2. Chasing the music.

A few months into dancing in the milonga, I started collecting music, Di Sarli, D’Arienzo, Calo, Fresedo…. in order to know the songs better. Gradually, I had heard a lot of the songs played in the milonga many times. Within a year or so,  I’d known many by heart. I knew what the next phrase was, and the next one after. Unconsciously,  I started to think about the next phrase before finishing the current one. I rushed to finish the step in order to dance the next one.

That was my D’Arienzo/Biagi period, in which the fast tempo music became my favorite. After the tanda, my heart was racing, cheeks burning. The night felt like shorter, milonga felt like ended earlier. I had good time, although it had lasted only a few months.

Slowly I found myself bored by the way I danced. It seemed that I danced only one dimensional, speed. And I danced to every beat. Eventually, after a night of dancing, I couldn’t feel any satisfaction. (I had to blame my then partner for some of that. But as I said, women is another subject for another time.) I was in my worst slump. For weeks, I hadn’t felt the inspiration to go out dancing.

3. Riding the music.

My turning point was this.  Dance to the music like you are riding a horse. Stay on top of it. I’d found my own presence in the music, no longer losing control and letting it dictate my movement. I was clear with how I wanted to dance the songs. I started to feel the dynamics in the music.

4. Feeling the music.

A year and half ago, Silvina Valz introduced the concept of space to me, which at the time was bewildering. Slowly I realized that my dance was one dimensional and flat.  The lesson with Cecilia was pivotal to my understanding of the dance on a different level. When she talked about how to perceive the different energies from different instruments and vocal and feel the energy of the partner, Silvina’s concept was muy claro. Now, the dance was much more interesting with an able partner. There is another layer in the music, energy!

These days, I am not dancing very often. Without the right partner, I would rather sit and listen to the music and feel it. Once a while, when the right partner comes along, the joy of that tanda is always unforgettable.

Haha…I am still learning. There are so many things to learn. It is fun to learn new things, to understand myself a bit more… And there are too many responsibilities that come with teaching.

“So you just want to enjoy it.” he then said. “Oh yeah!” I smiled.

It’s happened to me quite a few times lately: people, often strangers, ask me either if I am a teacher or when I start teaching…TANGO!

At Berlin tango festival, a couple of women asked if I was a teacher at the afternoon practica, where I danced with them in my flipflops.

A fellow tanguero friend said to me a few weeks ago: You should dj more often and teach. The music you play and the way you dance shows a lot of sensibilities. People should learn about this side of tango…

A mother, after watching me dancing with her beautiful daughter who was taking her first tango steps at an outdoor milonga, said: ” Are you a teacher?… You have very good technique, I can tell.”

…

About a year ago, the thought actually crossed my mind. At the time, despite uncertain of other aspects of the dance, I was pretty sure that I was ready to show others what a good embrace and posture were. I consulted a wise friend of mine. She encouraged the idea, but advised me to gain some more credentials and experience first.

You should spend a few months in BsAs. Learn everything that you could from your master. Ask them if you could be a teaching assistant. You should be an apprentice before a maestro… but I have no doubt you would be very good at it(teaching).

After that conversation, I reexamined my motive. Do I really want to teach tango?

Most of my intention at the time I was thinking of teaching tango was to build a name for myself. Though a part of it was that I wanted to share what I had learned with others.

Realized that, I put the thought away and started to dance around the world and continued my studying with Javi and Andrea.

One night a few weeks back, after dancing with my first teacher in the milonga, I asked her when we were walking out of the venue: ” I am dancing pretty well now, no?”

You are great. It is in you now.

“What do you mean?” I was bit puzzled.

The dance is in your body. It is no longer in your head. You don’t think about how to dance any more.

A friend of mine, who has been touring and teaching around the world, danced a tanda with me at the afternoon practilonga at a festival. At some point when I had a long pause in the music, she stopped the dance, looked at and said:” Wow, you are super zen.”

There are some other comments from different tangueras and professional dancers that compliment my dance.

The interesting thing is: all these happen after I stopped trying.

” Dancing with women like them is something different. It is not because they weigh 80 Kilos. They don’t weigh 80 Kilos… they ARE 80 kilos… of tango.”— from this documentary.

The first time I danced with a woman who had been dancing for over ten years, I freaked out. She was so different from the other women with whom I had been used to dance. Those women were light on their feet; they were effortless to dance with and they followed me well. But her, despite her average size body, she felt like a giant statue. I didn’t know how to move her, let alone dancing with her. I couldn’t say that I had enjoyed our dance.

Throughout the years, I had danced with many women who have been dancing for over ten to twenty years. They all have a common character: solidly heavy. I couldn’t figure out how, sometimes a petite woman, who weighs less than 100lbs and whom I could pick up with one arm, feel so heavy. After all, I was a three year blackbelt who could flip a guy who was about 50lbs heavier than me and mount him on the his back for two minutes. I felt weak, lack of strength, and therefore nervous, when I embraced them.

A man is like a column…

Andrea told me when I had my first private classes with them. For a few years, when I danced with these experienced women, I still felt wobbly and not grounded.

It was not until recently, when I started to focus dancing with my dantian and moved with my axis, that I realized the reason these experienced woman were felt heavy before was because they danced with their whole body and they were grounded. Less experienced women who haven’t found their own axises are dancing only with part of their body. The movement of a limp feels light, the movement of a body feels heavy.

When I first watched the video on youtube, I didn’t understand what Javier meant: how could a little old lady have 80kilos of tango in her? I guess I understand it now.

I was never interested in being a good dancer, who could execute perfect sacada and lead beautiful beleos, or dance fluidly and brilliantly. I was never interested in the physical aspect of the dance.  I have been practicing and studying martial arts for many years. Complex movement and sequences don’t interest me. Forms is just means to a more profound finding: the internal chi and harmony…  That’s why all these moves: Colgada, volcada, whatever they are, generally it took me less than half an hour to be able to learn to execute it nicely. What interests me, at this point, is to discover the connection and find that magical moment between the two.

Well, I digress (maybe not). This amazing dancer taught me something at that class : you need to dance one step ahead, you need to always know where to put the woman next… an advice I had heard it before. He was right. It was a man’s responsibility.

Back to present time, at festivals and the milongas in Buenos Aires, I sit and watch: so many dancers, majority of them are trying to dance the next step, create the next movement, so busy, so impatient. I feel tired just watching them. And bored. Even with the few who could dance beautifully to the music. Something is missing from the dance.

I met a young German girl from another town at Berlin festival. I spot her dancing on the floor the first night out. The milonga was held at the Berlin City Hall: Rotes Rathause. A grand venue for milonga. A dream place to dance in. Apparently over six hundred dancer thought the same… the place was packed with frenzied dancers. She stood out, so unusually calm for a young dancer. So collected. I tried to cabeceo her the whole night. Three hours later we danced. Then every night after we looked for each other for a tanda. The third night, her last night, after we danced a tanda of D’Arienzo con Maure in a jam packed room, one of the famous performers and teachers at the festival stopped her and asked for her name. Later he asked her for a tanda. I took a look and turned away. Not interesting… disappointed actually.

The after hour milonga continued after 4:30am, I was so tired and  almost skipped it. I went out and  came back. There was a woman I would  love to have a tanda  with. I put on my shoes, then disappointingly saw her taking  off hers. Oh well, the music was good. I sat and  watched others dance.

They caught me eyes: this same young girl and a young guy. They stood out from the rest of the crowd. Smooth, flowing on the floor. Not rushed, not hurried. One body, four  feet, painting the floor. My eyes had been following them, for four tandas (one Biagi, one D’agostino con Vargas, one OTV and one Canaro milonga). I was jealous. She had  not danced with anyone more than one tanda. At the same time, I was happy watching them. It was such a rare joy to watch the music coming from the bodies, the feet.  ( Have I mentioned that I rarely watch and even avoid watching live performances at the milongas? ) Never a moment during that four tandas I felt disinterested.

They were dancing in the moment, every moment, for each other, without the sign of wanting to go to the next step. They just moved when they were both ready. The in between steps were filled with music, energy…

A wise and dear friend of mine, a successful writer, once told me: silence in tango is very pleasant. It is like sitting here with someone you know very well, your spouse, your very good friend, without feeling the need to entertain each other, to make an effort to talk to each other. Just sitting here comfortably, enjoy the presence of each other. Enjoy the moment…

A while ago, a friend asked me in a practica: So what are you working now?

Try not to dance. I answered.

Lately, I’ve been enjoying more and more just embracing my partner, listening to the music and not worrying about what to dance next. Just being in the moment and dance in the moment.

It is such a joy!