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On Friday, August 18th, the lyre and accordion of Club Social Bacchus embraced the majestic residence of Melhem and Nada Chaoul in a passionate and captivating tango. The event drew in culture and Latin music enthusiasts, immersing them in the dance. Choreographers Mireille and Raja Safar, who met during a tango class, reignited their embrace, energized by the virtuosic performance of accordionists Nagi Saliba and Habib Khalil. How did the collaboration between the founder of Club Social Bacchus and the hostess come about? A conversation with Chloé Fakhoury Kazan and Nada Chaoul.
An Enchanting Performance in a Magical Mansion
This collaboration was spurred by passion: the founder of Club Social Bacchus’ love for music and Nada Chaoul’s love for her late husband Melhem and their exquisite house in Zahleh. It was essential to bring the walls to life and gather friends and tango aficionados, a symbolic music from Latin America where the Chaouls once lived. As one enters, a striking sculpture of tango dancers by artist Nicole Karam welcomes guests. The event began at 4:30 p.m. with a touching speech by USJ law professor Nada Chaoul, renowned for her incisive writing and her portrayal of Lebanese society. Next, Chloé Kasan Fakhoury, with degrees in literature, theater, and psychology, elucidated on tango’s evolution and key figures. Her lecture spanned its etymology, associated with drums, the sun, the thunder god, or places where slaves were kept, to passionate dance performances.
The performance transitioned with artists Mireille and Raja Safar presenting a sensual choreography to Osvaldo Pugliese’s “La Yumba.” Chloé Fakhoury outlined the major epochs of the famed Argentine dance: the old guard, the new guard, the golden age, the decline, tango nuevo, and the melting pot. Accordionist Nagi Saliba later played Angel Villoldo’s “El Choclo,” which was met with widespread acclaim upon its 1903 release in Buenos Aires. The event organizer then narrated the history of “La Cumparsita,” globally renowned and officially recognized as Uruguay’s cultural anthem. Afterward, she discussed the bandoneon, the signature instrument of tango, followed by a dance to Juan Canaro’s “Lo que vieron mis ojos.” Carlos Gardel, the king of tango, was celebrated with his famous song “Por una cabeza,” played by Habib Khalil. Towards the conclusion, Chloé Fakhoury spoke about “Libertango” and its composer, Astor Piazolla, while the notes of the famous tango, played by Habib Khalil, evoked euphoria. Concluding the event, Chloé Fakhoury briefly shared the origins of Club Social Bacchus as Mireille and Raja Safar performed to “La Cumparsita.”
Chloé Fakhoury Kazan on the History of Tango
Your discussion piqued the audience’s curiosity about the enigmatic life and death of tango legend Carlos Gardel, proposing various theories. You also stoked debates about tango’s origin, suggesting Uruguayan roots, even though it flourished in Mar del Plata and Buenos Aires.
The tango is “Rioplatense.” This term is frequently overlooked, with many simply referring to the genre as “Argentine.” Originating along the Rio de la Plata, in the suburbs of Buenos Aires and Montevideo, this transgenerational popular movement emerges from a rich cultural amalgamation. The rhythms and power of drums from its foundation. Migrants enriched it with new instruments and sounds, while Creole improvisational musicians and singers adorned it with their song, called “payada.” It is a musical culture encapsulating aspirations, hopes, dreams, sorrows, and impulses from our ancestors, resonating through the ages.
The two main currents of tango and their contribution across distinct eras. Historically, two primary currents have polarized the world of tango, resulting in a dispute between traditionalists and evolutionists.
The “Vieille Garde” or Old Guard refers to the cultural movement, musicians, poets, and dancers that originally shaped the tango. During this period, the bandoneon took center stage, replacing the high-pitched flute tones and giving the music a deeper, slower, and more resonant quality. The Uruguayan pianist Roberto Firpo then introduced the piano, replacing the guitar, and from 1913 started shaping the orchestra in a new formation: 2 bandoneons, 2 violins, the piano, and the double bass.
The “Nouvelle Garde” or New Guard, known as “décarisme”, represented a significant transformation of tango. This was largely due to violinist and orchestra conductor Julio de Caro, who codified tango’s structure. In his renditions, every instrument had both an individual and collective role. The rhythms became slower, melodies more sentimental, and discordant syncopations were omitted. Tango was no longer just a foundation for dance and singing, but became a standalone composition. This shift led to the emergence of two schools: the evolutionists and the traditionalists. While the evolutionists sought more intricate orchestration and structure, often sticking to a sextet formation, the traditionalists favored a more rhythm-driven music catered to dancing and expanded their orchestras, sometimes requiring up to forty musicians, excluding singers.
Astor Piazzolla, the Argentine of Italian descent who endowed tango with its scholarly dimension, had originally desired a saxophone. However, his parents gifted him a bandoneon instead. How did this German instrument become emblematic of the tango, largely due to Piazzolla’s talent? And why is he regarded as the most pivotal tango musician of the latter half of the 20th century?
While some consider the bandoneon to be a variant of the concertina created by Carl Friedrich Uhlig, others credit Heinrich Band as its inventor. There are those who argue that Band merely popularized the instrument, suggesting that its true creator was Carl Zimmerman. Nonetheless, the instrument undeniably carries the name of Heinrich Band, hence “band…oneón.” Originally designed as a portable organ for the performance of sacred music, legend has it that the instrument was brought to South America by sailors who either bartered it for a bottle of alcohol or left it abandoned at the port. It soon became emblematic of tango, with towering figures like Astor Piazzolla bringing about a pivotal shift in the history of tango and the use of the bandoneon, introducing novelty and avant-garde elements. With his “Nuevo Tango”, Piazzolla disrupted the traditional tenets of tango, which was considered almost sacrosanct. He infused it with various inspirations, borrowing from jazz, classical harmonic sequences, and venturing into Mozart’s D minor. His compositions are replete with chromatic nuances, build-ups, tension, and sonic contrasts. Piazzolla masterfully transitioned from the ambiguity of a melancholic piece to the mathematical precision and rhythm of a counterpoint, all while maintaining tango’s inherent somber, painful, and dramatic undertones.
Nada Chaoul: Guardian of the Sanctuary
While you are known as a jurist and author of two hilariously witty books, “Frimes and Other Offenses”, published by Layali, and “Clin d’œil,” published by L’Orient des Livres, many were unaware of the significant role music plays in your life. And now, here we are, within your enchanting palace, surrounded by musicians and dancers. What inspired you to give voice to music, specifically to tango?
While my inclination leans more towards writing and words than to music, within my husband’s family, the Chaouls, music has always held a prominent place. When my father-in-law returned from Brazil, the first item he brought back was a grand player piano. My husband, Melhem, was a connoisseur of classical music, which he cherished deeply. My collaboration with the Club Social Bacchus aimed to break the house’s silence, to make its walls resonate, as the late Melhem Chaoul loved to do, to revive his wishes and open the doors of the house that remained shut for three quarters of the year. Why tango? Its roots trace back to South America, given that my father-in-law lived in Brazil and his residence in Zahleh is also located on Brazil Street. This underscores the profound influence of Latin America in the household’s imagination and psyche.
In your columns in the Orient-Express and later in the Orient Littéraire, you critique society with biting, uproarious humor. Yet beneath your sharp-tongued prose, one can discern a deep tolerance. Do the tragic events that have rocked Lebanon and its society inspire you to shift your literary genre and tone, or will your inherent humor in life and writing always prevail?
Indeed, I cast my gaze upon the society we inhabit, yet it emanates not from sarcasm, but rather self-mockery. I don’t assess Beirut’s Lebanese society as an outsider would, purely for the sake of criticism. I believe I am an integral component of this society, and I am endearingly amused when I recognize in others’ habits I myself have adopted. I depict us, including my family members and myself, albeit reluctantly on their part. Have things evolved? I allude to changes in some of my articles, noting the before and after. However, I never position myself as a judge or moralist, as I have no intent to reform society. Changes have occurred, but in this Mediterranean society where everyone is eager to know others’ affairs, the zest for life and showiness will persist, albeit in subdued forms. Psychologically, the Lebanese have a high self-regard, permitting themselves joy, abundance, and even opulence. Socially, while it may be subject to criticism, it remains an inherent Lebanese cultural trait. Yes, I believe I will always prioritize writing that captures the essence of moments and societal depictions.
In your welcoming remarks, you honored the memory of your late husband, the eminent thinker Melhem Chaoul, and various builders of this beautiful traditional home: your in-laws. You mentioned the role of your children and the anticipated contributions of your grandson, Raphaël, yet you did not speak a word about your own involvement. Is a strong-willed woman necessarily a discreet one?
To be candid, I am rather flamboyant. However, within the context of this event, which aims to rejuvenate the Chaoul house culturally and artistically, I see myself as a mere facilitator, here to preserve the heritage and pass the torch. This is how I perceived myself throughout forty blissful years of marriage with Melhem, driven by our complimentary bond. Our duty towards our grandchildren, who reside abroad, is to strengthen their roots. Thus, I ensure the rich legacy left by our ancestors is imparted, in the hopes of acquainting them with the traditions of their village, Zahleh, and the splendor of Lebanon.
To what extent can initiatives like that of the Club Social Bacchus redirect the Lebanese elite towards cultural achievements, fostering a competition in erudition, as opposed to the consumer society that dominated prior to 2019?
It is true that there was no cultural vacuum before the Club Social Bacchus, especially considering events like the Baalbeck, Beiteddine, and Byblos festivals, and the Lebanese musical youth programs. However, the healthcare, economic, and financial crises have disrupted every facet of life. The initiatives of Club Social Bacchus come at a crucial time, and Chloé, deeply rooted in both Francophone and Latin cultures, brings a fresh perspective to the Lebanese cultural scene. The club’s impact is all the more significant as it was initially established by and for the people of Zahleh, even though major cultural activities have traditionally been the preserve of the capital. The Club Social Bacchus promotes culture through a feast for the senses, which, while being congenial, focuses not merely on Lebanese gastronomy but also on music, spoken word, dance, and various arts. Within an hour, attendees gain concise insights while enjoying a concert or show on a substantive theme in a communal atmosphere. As for the decline of consumerism, I believe it is primarily a direct result of inflation. That said, activities like those of the Club Social Bacchus encourage introspection over consumption.
