Punk Rock in Buenos Aires?

I have been told there is no such thing, after all.... Punk is dead right? Maybe it depends on what one considers punk. Certainly "punk" is in fashion, not only in the States, but here as well, the eighties Hot Topic look rules supreme among the youth; complete with converse and really bad mohawk/mullet/whatthehellisthat hair cuts. But since we arrived I have wanted to find the underground scene where I could slam luke warm beers in a dark sweat filled dungeon of a dive bar, and feel the local vibe. As the school activity for the night described the evening's event as a night at the "orchestra," I was not prepared for the dingy hole in the wall venue, nor to be left completely enamored with Tango music.

We turned down a narrow street. The grafitti that lined the brick buildings could vaguely be seen in the darkness of the poorly lit neighborhood. The taxista squinted his eyes as he strained to make out the address listed on each door. He put the car in reverse and began backing down the one way street as other cars passed by, ostensibly without thinking it odd that someone should do such a thing. However, in my mind it was strange, especially after just reading how taxis work as an accomplice in many robberies. He eyed a door with a man standing in front of it. As he swerved the car in reverse toward the curb, a garage door was manually pulled open and a man began to approach the taxi. I took off my seat belt so as not to be trapped in the taxi, as I had read, is a common method of robbery. However, the man reached in the car, shook my hand, and notified us that we were early and should return at 10 and that there was a bar/cafe right up the street.

My first experience of mingling with locals turned political in a matter of seconds. We went from me asking "por que no musica" to me being asked what I think of Venezuela and Chavez? Muy interesante no? However, I told him the honest answer, that I don't know (it is worth noting that there are only two countries in South America we are not going to, and Venezuela is one of them) and that my Español was not suficiente para este conversacion.

Back to the venue, where we entered through the opened garage door and headed down a corridor, very reminiscent of the Casbah in downtown San Diego, that led to the bar/main room. However, I could not enter because they did not have change for the 100 peso bill I carried. (I must once again make a note of how bad their business practice is here. The change was 80 pesos, I know they could have changed this, but as I so often have to do, went off hunting for a place that would change my 100.) We ended up at a mall, on a Saturday night, the night before Christmas Eve, in a city with over 10 million people, no fue divertido! I was not too thrilled with Buenos Aires' lack of accomodating service, so when I returned, the Quilmes Cerveza was consumed with ease.

Much like any other show I have been to, the band did not start on time, but by the time they did the place was packed. The locals finally became restless and began calling the band to the stage. A piano, two stand up bass, four violins, and four accordians took their place on the large stage, and when they performed it was immediately obvious why the crowd was so large. These musicians all in their mid twenties held unusual instruments for an American rock fan, but make no mistake, they were rock stars, head banging to the intense sounds that cut through the room and gripped an awestruck audience. Meanwhile, synchrenized lights flashed at critical moments and dance around the room for extra effect. The music itself is open to interpretation, but it was intensely dramatic. Of course the Tango is known for its romanticism, but it also had a sinister feeling as though impending danger lurked beyond the horizon. Or the type of music that would accompany the villian as he entered the room. The band played for over an hour as the temperature rose and the bottles stacked up, it was a very punk rock kind of attitude. I felt as though the music had political content or inspiration, or maybe I just had to much Whiskey.


Already borracho, (drunk) I decided it would be a good idea to head back to the cafe and engage in more political discourse, because the two always go so well together. This is easy to do, because regardless of where a person is from, they have an opinion of the U.S. It is almost violating. But I found a great hole in the wall venue and experienced a piece of Buenos Aires that I will never forget.

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