Critic’s Notebook: The Quinteto Astor Piazzolla in Vienna

A. Piazzolla, "The Late Masterpieces", Quinteto Tango Nuevo (American Clavé, 3CDs, 1993) US | UK | DE

A. Piazzolla, "Mi Buenos Aires Querido", Barenboim, Mederors, Console (Warner, 1996) US | UK | DE

Piazzolla by the Book

Music to fall in love with – but also a distinct lack of flair – characterized the Quinteto Astor Piazzolla's appearance

The first time you hear Astor Piazzolla's music – perhaps from recordings with his New Tango Quintet like "Tango: Zero Hour" or "Live in Vienna" – is a moment you are not likely to forget. (I remember mine, picking up the 3-CD box on American Clavé in the 2000 Penn Tower Record's world music section with its fancy, since deteriorated, foil cover.) The music imprints itself, opens worlds, becomes shorthand for "Argentina" and everything one associates with it. No wonder, then, that the Konzerthaus was packed for the Quinteto Astor Piazzolla on Sunday evening. After all, the ensemble, founded six years after Piazzolla's death, claims to "reproduce the old master's music as he would sound today." And what exactly does that sound like?

The five marched onto the stage of the Großer Saal, punctual, all in their tango-uniform: Prussian blue suits, light blue shirts, steel blue ties - with a hint of fashion-savvy civil servants about them. Without much ado, lickety-split, the knocked out one terrific Piazzolla piece after another with surprising mechanical precision – working their way from the lesser to the better known ("Oblivion", "Libertango"). Was this Argentine understatement? Nor was there any trace of communication at first; only about two thirds in, after "Contrabajísimo" (with a wobbly double bass solo) were the members of the band introduced, just with their names mumbled, apart from a generic "what a pleasure to play in this beautiful hall". Then it was briskly back to business and onward with the music.

The electric guitar got somewhat lost in the quintet. The piano was the driving force and occasionally a bit muddy. The violin mostly drew attention only through its characteristic rasping sounds. The bandoneon dominated, as might have been expected. Nothing was bad - but all told, everything remained pallid. Was it supposed to sound like this? Not that there wasn't some steam generated here and there – but it dissipated immediately. Was it the too-large room? The Viennese audience even, which though enthusiastic, listened very well-behaved and politely? A hint of rankinling disappointed appeared to be lingering, even after three encores. Then again: one cannot not let oneself be thrilled by this music.

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