Cell Block Tango Lyrics – Chicago

Song Overview

Song Credits

• Featured: Cheryl Clark, Michon Peacock, Candy Brown, Graciela Daniele, Pamela Sousa
• Producer: Phil Ramone, Martin Richards
• Composer: John Kander
• Lyricist: Fred Ebb
• Conductor: Stan Lebowsky
• Arranger: Peter Howard
• Orchestration: Ralph Burns
• Release Date: 1975
• Genre: Broadway, Jazz, Tango
• Album: Chicago: A Musical Vaudeville (Original Broadway Cast)
• Label: RCA Victor
• Language: English, Hungarian (partially)
• Length: Approximately 7 minutes

Song Meaning and Annotations

Cell Block Tango, a darkly comedic showpiece from Chicago, is often mistaken as simply a sultry number, but it’s far more layered, blending satire, social commentary, and historical echoes. While Chita Rivera is famously associated with the role, the tango roots of the number stretch back much further. Tango itself, originally a partner dance born in the immigrant barrios of Argentina and Uruguay in the late 19th century, arrived in the U.S. around 1913–1914. Its sensual movements caused quite a stir in conservative circles, yet by the 1910s and 1920s, America was in the throes of a full-blown “tango craze.”

The song’s iconic opening—“Pop! Six! Squish! Uh uh! Cicero, Lipschitz!”—reduces each woman’s backstory to a staccato burst of sound, a rhythm that mirrors their unapologetic explanations. These aren’t confessions but declarations—twisted, stylized justifications for murder. Each woman either denies responsibility or pins the blame on her victim, echoing the recurring theme: they all insist their partners had it coming. The song uses words like "Pop" to explain the murders of women, "Six" to describe the number of wives Ezekiel had, and "Squish" to describe the sound of the stabbing. The Hunyak, unlike the other ladies, constantly pleads innocence, with her saying "uh-uh" referring to Roxie's question about her involvement. "Cicero" is the name of the hotel where Velma murdered her sister and husband, Veronica and Charlie, for cheating, and "Lipschitz" is the name of Mona's partner, who she murdered for cheating on her. These words help explain the events leading to the murders.

Take Liz, for example. Her irritation with her partner’s constant gum-popping becomes symbolic of deeper neglect in their relationship. What seems like a minor annoyance festers, leading to an impulsive act of violence. The structure of the song plays on this escalating tension, with narrative “twist endings” that challenge our perception of guilt and sanity.

The musical doesn’t just revel in melodrama; it also explores broader questions of morality and hypocrisy. One woman, Annie, is arrested after discovering her devout Mormon husband’s infidelity. The show makes a nod to polygamy, historically accepted in Mormonism, and the irony of Annie ending up behind bars while the cheater walks free. Ezekiel Young, the husband in question, is from Salt Lake City, long associated with Mormon culture. Despite the religion’s ban on alcohol, he’s poisoned by Annie due to his “low arsenic tolerance.” Her disillusionment with love is evident.

These personal tragedies play out against the backdrop of 1920s cultural norms, including the then-common joke about housewives and milkmen, who had easy daytime access to homes. The character Hunyak stands apart. A Hungarian immigrant, she insists on her innocence and is portrayed as a tragic figure, unable to make the authorities understand her. She clings to a white cloth in a haunting gesture, a symbol of purity amidst a chorus of guilt. Her story invokes the legal defense of insanity or memory loss, often used to evade the harshest punishments.

Meanwhile, Cicero (Velma) remains shrewd and mysterious, dropping hints about the suspicious deaths of Veronica and Charles but never outright confessing. It’s a calculated deflection, part of the performance’s wry commentary on manipulation and survival.

The show also touches on themes of autonomy in love, hinting at the more liberated, if still complicated, relationships of the time. Mona’s lover Alvin, repeatedly cheated but refused to end things. While murder can’t be condoned, the musical frames her act in a context where betrayal meets desperation, especially in a world where women had fewer options.

In the end, Cell Block Tango is far more than a catchy number. It’s a razor-sharp exploration of justice, morality, and the stories women tell to survive. By embedding these tales within the rhythms of tango and the aesthetics of vaudeville, the musical delivers a biting critique of a society that often punishes the mistreated more harshly than the abusers.

What do you get when you cross jazzy murder ballads with sardonic humor, courtroom confessionals, and biting vaudeville rhythms? You get “Cell Block Tango” — a performance piece masquerading as a song, a lineup of femmes fatales narrating their side of the crime story in the seedy underworld of 1920s Chicago. Chita Rivera and her co-stars—each a woman locked up for killing a man—deliver a dazzling tour-de-force of justified rage and showbiz razzle-dazzle.

Pop! Six! Squish! Uh uh! Cicero! Lipschitz!

This chant, hypnotic and ritualistic, is both a roll call and a rhythmic spell. Each word cues a confession from one of the six “merry murderesses.” Their stories unfold like twisted bedtime tales, where morality is blurry and justice wears fishnets.

Liz: The Pop Heard Round the World

“So I took the shotgun off the wall and I fired two warning shots... into his head!”

Liz's story is comedic in its delivery but chilling in its punchline. Her irritation over a gum-popping husband spirals into violence, dramatizing the thin line between nuisance and madness. The use of dry understatement — “warning shots” — is pure black comedy.

Annie: Polygamy and Poison

“He told me he was single… Not only was he married, he had six wives!”

Arsenic replaces gunpowder here, and betrayal takes center stage. Annie’s monologue critiques deception and male duplicity, delivering it with the nonchalance of a dinner party anecdote. It’s both grotesque and oddly satisfying.

June: “He ran into my knife... ten times.”

This line is the song’s most infamous. It embodies the song's absurdist tone—turning horror into a punchline. June plays dumb with a wink, and we, the audience, become complicit in the laughter.

Hunyak: The Innocent Outsider

Her monologue, spoken in Hungarian, is the only one proclaiming innocence. The audience’s inability to understand her underscores a cruel irony: she’s the only one not speaking English, and likely the only one telling the truth.

Velma and Mona: Betrayals of the Body and Spirit

“Number seventeen… the spread eagle!”

Velma’s tale of adultery and rage explodes with vaudevillian flair. Meanwhile, Mona’s story — a breakup due to “artistic differences” — ends with a corpse. These tales frame murder not as horror, but catharsis — wrapped in wit and jazz hands.

Underneath the spectacle, "Cell Block Tango" critiques how society views women who kill — dismissing them as either monsters or jokes. The musical tango between truth and performance creates a powerful ambiguity: Did they really do it? Or are they just giving us what we paid to see?

Similar Songs

1. “He Had It Coming” – Queen Latifah ft. Lil' Kim & Macy Gray
   A hip-hop-infused reinterpretation for the *Chicago* film adaptation. It trades the vaudeville bounce for sultry jazz and streetwise swagger. The themes remain—female agency, betrayal, violence—but now they’re cloaked in smoky noir rather than stage sparkle.
2. “What’s Your Story?” – Crazy Ex-Girlfriend Cast
   A television musical parody with surprising emotional depth. It mirrors “Cell Block Tango” by having women confess wild, often criminal behavior through catchy numbers. Both songs blend humor and darkness, exploring societal judgment and personal vengeance.
3. “My Own Best Friend” – Chicago (Original Broadway Cast)
   Another number from *Chicago*, this one peels back the glitz to show the isolation behind fame and ambition. While not about murder, it shares the theme of women maneuvering within rigid roles, driven to the edge by betrayal and desperation.

Questions and Answers

What is the central message of "Cell Block Tango"?

It showcases how each woman justifies her act of murder, blurring the lines between guilt and victimhood. It's a dark satire on justice and gender roles.

Why is "Pop! Six! Squish! Uh uh! Cicero! Lipschitz!" repeated?

This chant symbolizes identity and repetition, turning each name into both a label and a rhythm. It also helps frame each murderess's segment, reinforcing their shared narrative.

Is Hunyak really innocent?

Her Hungarian monologue claims innocence, and her exclusion from the English-speaking group may symbolize how true victims are often misunderstood or ignored by the justice system.

Why does the song use humor with such dark topics?

It disarms the audience, encouraging them to reflect on moral relativism, societal norms, and how justice is often a matter of perspective and storytelling.

How does "Cell Block Tango" relate to modern issues?

It resonates with current discussions on female agency, self-defense, domestic abuse, and the societal perception of women who retaliate or resist.

Awards and Chart Positions

While “Cell Block Tango” didn’t chart as a standalone song, the musical Chicago became one of the most iconic Broadway shows of all time, with the 1975 cast album earning critical acclaim. The 1996 Broadway revival and the 2002 film adaptation won multiple Tony Awards and Oscars, respectively, cementing the song's legacy in musical theatre history.

Key Stage & Screen Milestones for “Cell Block Tango”

Awards & Honors Connected to the Number

Commercial & Streaming Reach

Pop-Culture Spin-Offs & Parodies

Fan and Media Reactions

“This is the most iconic feminist musical number of all time. I will die on this hill.” — @BroadwayMami

“No notes. Just murder, jazz, and six women telling their truth with pizzazz.” — @CurtainCallz

“I used this song in my law class to discuss justifiable homicide. The professor was shook.” — @PreLawPunk

“Velma’s monologue is Oscar-worthy in every single version. She eats it UP.” — @VintageVamp

“Honestly, Hunyak deserves justice. No translation needed.” — @SubtitlesPlz