It may be difficult to imagine Venezuelan president Hugo Chavez bouncing along with a collaboration between Ojos’ singer Marina ‘la Canillas’ and their Argentine support group Malena Actitud Maria, an all-girl hip hop group. And whether the socialist stalwart is an Ojos de Brujo fan or not, may be revealed another time but chatting to Xavi it becomes apparent they are on the same side of the political spectrum.

“We try to live what we say on our record. We are totally independent. We accept no sponsors and we are on our own label.”

Fly meets the cheerful percussionist and singer Marina in the offices of the human rights organisation Mothers of the Plaza de Mayo in Buenos Aires. Mothers who lost their children in Argentina’s brutal military dictatorship wander around us wearing their trademark white headscarves. Everyone from Bono to Clinton has met them, today it is the Ojos de Brujos turn. “It is such a privilege to be here,” Xavi says. “I can’t wait to meet one of the Mothers.”

I ask how they found out about the group and Marina talks about their support group Malena Actitud Maria, one of whom is the daughter of a ‘disappeared’. The full story did not come to light, but she is one of many children of the abducted 30,000 who were adopted by those in power, often military families. Many children, now in their twenties, are only just discovering the fate of their true parents. An estimated 500 still do not know they are adopted. This story has clearly affected the Spanish group. Later that night on stage Marina will tell the Argentine audience meeting the Mothers was one of the most inspirational moments of her life.

“But Tehari means ‘free’ in Gypsy slang and we live by that, we won’t compromise.”

Never a group to avoid dealing with politics in their songs, Ojos de Brujo have a strict philosophy that not only weighs on their music, but through each of the members’ lives and is woven into the very fabric of the group. “We try to live what we say on our record. We are totally independent. We accept no sponsors and we are on our own label,” Xavi explains. “Each of us also avoids being part of this corporatism in our daily lives. We are ‘real’.”

This has not made things easy for the group — they book some 100 shows a year themselves, often losing money coming to far afield places like Argentina and Venezuela, they do all their own press, artwork, distribute only with independent companies. Each member of the collective, nine at the last count, has a unique democratic vote, and no decision is made without a complete consensus. Xavi admits that this often causes problems. “But Tehari means ‘free’ in Gypsy slang,” Xavi says mischievously. “And we live by that, we won’t compromise.”

The fast flowing conversation turns from the IMF: “they are making life difficult for countries like Argentina.” to giant music corporations: “they are a mafia”. To their collaborations with Nitin Sawnhey: “We met him at a festival and recorded a song in his house.” And via a theory he calls ‘modern slavery’, the premise of which is that people, especially in Europe, are so involved thinking about themselves they have no time for helping poorer countries.

For a minute they play a traditional flamenco, complete with dancer, and then with some deft scratching and some nifty break DJing, the Argentines are moshing.

Xavi also reveals they are working on a DVD set of Techari live for a scheduled October release. And with that, the doors open and a Mother walks out to meet the group. The interview is over. Xavi needlessly apologises “I’m sorry I can’t come to Argentina and not meet a Mother of the Plaza de Mayo.”

Eight hours later in La Trastienda, a small sweaty club in the bohemian San Telmo neighbourhood of Buenos Aires, Actitud Maria Marta are closing their set with a hip hop tango — imagine Gotan Project crossed with The Roots in Pepsi and Shirley’s wardrobe. It’s a powerful sound: one singer, two MCs, scratch artists and an old bloke on the bandeneon. It sets the tone of the evening.

Live, unlike on record, Ojos de Brujo push their hip hop influence to the fore. For a minute they play a traditional flamenco, complete with dancer, and then with some deft scratching and some nifty break DJing, the Argentines are moshing. Marina runs on the tiny stage, packed with eight of her band-mates. Max, a percussionist and owner of a spectacular beatbox voice, lifts the crowd further. Everyone is dancing and the tempo never stops. A VJ projects a series of political and artistic images on to a screen behind the band, while the two guitarists, three percussionists, DJ, flamenco dancer, singer and a very funky bass player serve up their mix to devastating affect, in what must be one of the best live shows of the moment.

Songs such as ‘Bailadores’ and ‘Piedras vs Tanques’ from Techari are greeted like old classics and are much more powerful for being played live. Older staples from Bari are elongated, compounded and occasionally unrecognisable in their hectic live incarnation. And all the better for it. Not a foot in the place wasn’t moving. It is a beat that surely even the most conservative world leader couldn’t resist tapping a toe to.