It is common to present the history of tango music by categorizing eras—guardia vieja, the golden age, tango nuevo...—and then slot each orchestra into their respective era. Firpo and De Caro for guardia vieja, the big four for the golden age, Piazzolla for tango nuevo. Reality, though, was not so simple. Orchestras are comprised of individuals whose careers do not fall neatly into a single style or category. Individuals influence and are influenced by others, collaborate and provide opportunities to each other, and develop ideas in the context of past linage, contemporary environment, and desire to shape the future.
No one better shows than Osvaldo Fresedo that an artist need not be bound to a single moment, but rather is a thread running through eras. With his first recording in 1917 and final recording in 1980, and leaving 1,250 recordings to his name, Fresedo has one of the longest and most prolific recording careers in tango. Throughout this entire period, he continued to stay relevant and shape the sound of tango music. He also never stopped developing his own style.
Osvaldo Nicolás Fresedo (May 5, 1897 to November 18, 1984) was a Buenos Aires bandoneonist, composer, and orchestra leader. Fresedo was born into a wealthy Buenos Aires household, but at age ten his family settled in La Paternal, which at the time was a modest suburb of Buenos Aires known for low houses and a distinctly popular, working-people atmosphere. Along with gaining his nickname, “El Pibe de La Paternal” (the kid from La Paternal), this early upbringing imprinted Fresedo with a style that is both urban and urbane: subtle yet still maintaining the drive and “tierra” that is recognizably tango.
Fresedo’s music is often described as refined, or “sweet”; and sometimes even overly sweet. He places a clear focus on melody and melodic phrasing. But what separates Fresedo from many orchestra leaders isn’t only style. It is range, and a kind of quiet ambition. Over time, he is repeatedly associated with a willingness to broaden the sound world around tango’s core. That can mean richer blends, smoother surfaces, and, when he chose, colors that weren’t standard in a typical lineup. The center remains recognizable, but the frame keeps evolving.
How to recognize Osvaldo Fresedo:
A “salon glow”: rounded edges, polish over punch, fewer sharp corners.
Long-line phrasing: melodies often unfold in arcs rather than short bursts.
Ensemble balance: sections blend and trade focus instead of overpowering one another.
Mood-first openings: intros can feel like scene-setting before the rhythm fully declares itself.
Voice as texture: when there is a singer, the vocal line often feels woven into the orchestral fabric.
Color curiosity: an ear for timbre and shading, with a palette that evolves over time.
Elegance that still moves: even when the surface is silky, you can often sense a steady walk underneath.
This is a story of seven elevens...
No, I wont be talking about Slurpees and hot dogs under heat lamps, but rather the seven recordings of "El Once" by Osvaldo Fresedo. Fresedo first recorded El Once the winter of 1924-1925 and it became a big hit. His orchestra returned to this piece time and time again throughout Fresedo's uniquely long career, recording a total of seven times; a number only matched in tango by the seven recordings of La Cumparsita by D'Arienzo. Each version captures a distinct period in the history of tango. El Once provides a unique opportunity to hear many of the important transitions in tango music history play out in a single song by a single orchestra.
In 1924 Fresedo's orchestra was invited to perform for the 11th annual El Baile del Internado, a party held every year by the medical students ("interandos" are residents in their final year of medical school). Each year the balls become increasingly popular and wild, with dancing, partying, and pranks played on the doctors. Fresedo Composed the song El Once, also called A Divertirse (have fun) to commemorate the celebrations.
That year's festivities ended up being a bit too raucous, culminating in an altercation between some of the interns and one of the doctors which eventually led to the doctor shooting one of the inters. This resulted in the banning of any future Baile del Internado. I guess even the lighter tangos have to have some drama to go with them.
The 1924 El Once was recorded with Victor records before electric microphones, which were first used in Argentina to record Rosita Quiroga's La Musa Mistonga in 1926. The music was amplified acoustically through a large horn, which gives the music of the "acoustic recording era" its tinny sound.
Despite the limits of the technology, the quality of the orchestra still shines through. Tango orchestras were transitioning from amateurs to professional outfits.
Listen closely and you can hear something uncommon in the tangos we are accustomed to. Osvaldo's brother Raúl backed the orchestra on drums from 1923-1925.
The orchestra images are from https://www.fresedo.de, which contains a wealth of information on Osvaldo Fresedo and his music.
By 1927 Fresedo had transitioned to a classic tango Sextet, with two violins, two bandoneons, piano, and bass being common at the time. This time in tango was actually called the "Era of the Sextets", and Fresedo's was recognized as one of the greatest.
Fresedo was actually so successful that he organized four sextets at the same time. One he eventually handed over to Carlos Di Sarli, who was the piano player of that group. This kicked off Di Sarli's career of leading orchestras.
The arrangement of the 1927 version of El Once is simple, but there are subtle aspects hiding underneath. Listen for the decorations in the right hand of pianist José Rizzuti throughout.
At first the 1931 version sounds like a remake of the 1927 recording. That is until you listen past the halfway mark.
Tangos meant for dancing had historically been exclusively instrumentals. While tangos meant for listening long included voice, it wasn't until 1927 when Francisco Canaro first experimented with having Roberto Díaz sing a verse in a tango meant for dancers.
This ushered in the "Era of the Estribillista" (An Estribillista sings the refrain of a song). The beginning of a fruitful synergy between dancers, singers, and musicians. Fresedo followed suit by adding an Estribillista to his lineup at the end of 1927, and you hear this development in his 1931 version of El Once.
Music has both amplitude and frequency. Adding more violins increases the amplitude, making the string section louder. Adding other instruments such as a viola or cello fills out the frequency domain, making the strings sound fuller.
Orchestras were experimenting with adding new instruments to create a fuller sound. Fresedo leaned especially heavily in this direction with his sinfónica, adding wind instruments, a guitar, a harp, and vibrophones. This creates a softer and richer sound that can be heard in his 1935 recording.
An interesting note is that the 1933 movie 'Tango!' (see below), includes both Fresedo's and D'Arienzo's orchestras. You can see both the apex of the sinfónica sound of the time, and the beginnings of the hard driving beat that will revolutionize tango in the latter half of the 1930's.
Fresedo directing his orchestra in the 1933 movie 'Tango!'
Fresedo orchestra in the 1933 movie 'Tango!'. Fresedo is directing.
D'Arienzo's sextet in the 1933 movie 'Tango!'. D'Arienzo is playing violin on the left.
A composer sets the melody and harmony of a piece. An arranger, meanwhile, determines the form: what is the feel of the piece, which instruments play which parts, how the instruments interact, the underlying rhythms, the beginning and ending.
The original El Once arrangement was improvised by the individual musicians, which was common at the time. Jumping ahead to the middle of the Golden Age with 1945 version, the difference to hear is on in composition but in arrangement. This move towards more complex arrangements was driven by the innovations of orchestras such as Aníbal Troilo and Osvaldo Pugliese
Listen for how the instruments weave and interact with each other.
Osvaldo Fresedo with Aníbal Troilo
A breakthrough in recording technology was introduced into tango in the 50's. Magnetic tape offered less noise and higher fidelity, which changes the characteristics of the sound.
The first tango recording using tape was in 1951 with Carlos Di Sarli. In the subsequent years all of the orchestras switched over to the new medium. The transition to reel to reel tape especially affects the high and low frequencies, which would get lost or muddied with the older technology.
You can hear the difference in fullness and clarity of sound in Fresedo's 1953 recording of El Once.
A Magnetophon, one of the first reel to reel tape machines.
The military coup in 1955 which ousted Juan Perón led to a split between tango music and tango dance. Milongas, which were seen as a potential meeting place for dissidents, were banned.
Musicians, who always lived in the two worlds of music for listening and music for dancing, no longer had the option of playing for dancers. Tango music in the 60's and 70's innovates more towards music for listening. This is why dancers often talk about the golden age of tango music ending in the mid 50's.
Fresedo's 1973 version of El Once was recorded towards the end of his long and illustrious career (his final recording was in 1980). As with the initial 1924 version, you will likely never hear Fresedo's 1973 version played in the milonga (and like the 1924 version, you may notice the drums ;-) ). But not all tango music has to be for dancing. And the continued evolution of tango after the end of the golden age is well worth listening to.
Listening to ‘El Espiante’ is to enter a time capsule. It takes us back to a 17-year-old Fresedo, composing while tuning in to the sounds and sights of La Paternal. Before the music begins, we hear a train pulling out of the station. We also hear the distinctive whistle call-and-response the night patrols of La Patronal would use to signal to each other.
Fresedo originally titled the tune “La ronda”, for the patrols making the rounds. Before publication, he was encouraged to rename it “El Espiante”, a lunfardo-coded title that fit tango’s streetwise image at the time. El Espiante was slang at the time along the lines of ‘escape’, or ‘getaway’, and was sometimes connected to a con game where the victim is dazzled with supposed sterling pounds. The title carries a hint of mischief before a single note is heard, and that energy absolutely shows up in the music.
A quirk of history connects this tune to the broader tango lore. A young Fresedo composed El Espiante while playing with Francisco Canaro in the house ensemble at the Royal Pigall, with Canaro first recording the tune in 1916. At Pigall, dancers began asking specifically for Fresedo’s tango, meaning the crowd was singling out the youngest member for his own composition in front of everyone. Canaro was building a reputation as a director and composer, and that made hierarchy and recognition sensitive.
After repeated clashes between the two, Fresedo decided to leave on the spot, packed up his bandoneon, and walked out. Canaro quickly filled the vacancy by bringing in his brother Juan to cover the bandoneon chair. The same Juan Canaro who hired Rodolfo Biagi for his orchestra, which eventually led to Biagi playing with Juan D’Arienzo. So the famous split between D’Arienzo and Biagi over fame is actually connected to the earlier split between Canaro and Fresedo over the same issue.
Fresedo recorded El Espiante 5 separate times, not counting the 1916 Canaro recording. Here we share the 1933 recording, a beautiful example of Fresedo revisiting an early identity from a later vantage point. It is a reminder that “elegant” tango can still have teeth, and that early material can stay fresh when it is placed in a later orchestra’s hands. It was recorded on March 16, 1933 for Victor as an instrumental side, and the other side is “Noches porteñas” with Roberto Ray on vocals, which makes the object itself feel like a curated mini-program: one side all movement and sparkle, the other side a different flavor of Buenos Aires. There is something grounding about these details because they remind us tango was not an abstract playlist. It was pressed into shellac, sold, handled, played loudly in rooms, and re-played until the grooves wore down.