In less than 2 weeks the ZZK Records crew will be once again taking a slice of emerging Buenos Aires culture to North America.  This time, they’ve been invited by the city of Denver to represent Buenos Aires music in the Biennial of the Americas.

Streets named for a French socialist and an Argentine revolutionary enclose Avenida Sarmiento's 3100 block, where this Monday evening motorcycles ride up sidewalks, young porteños share pipes and beer, hostel hoppers from overseas empty out of cabs, and drum beats drift forth from Konex. Soon, 17 of the best percussionists in Buenos Aires will take it, as they do every Monday night as La Bomba de Tiempo.

In Buenos Aires there exists a parallel world that Porteños and tourists alike are afraid to go near. Not for American filmmaker Reed Purvis, who armed himself with a camera and fearlessly took to the streets of Villa 31, one of Buenos Aires’ most infamous and feared slums to paint an unfamiliar story of Capital´s most misunderstood residents.

“She said she’s never coming back,” Bruno says casually to his best friend while sharing empanadas and mate. For most men, this concise, undebatable six-word realization is the end, plain and simple, the intent of her words couldn´t cut straighter to the heart. Not for Bruno, a twenty-something Porteño, who reacts to his ex girlfriends bluntly delivered verdict with an arrogant smile.