There's only one viable avant-garde art form nowadays, and it's called indie rock. Think about it: Experimental film is waning; painting and sculpture routinely are borrowing from traditions. I'd guess that about 20 people seriously listen to serious music. And poetry is, well, mostly about poetry. But millions of young people like indie rock — they even buy it on vinyl — and I bet if older people gave it a spin, they'd probably like it, too. I say this mostly because this brave new world of rock can seem at first listen almost shockingly retro, drawing from obvious 1960s influences that hang thicker in the air than patchouli oil on a Deadhead. But that's just a first impression.
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