Breakcore, folk-rock, death metal, dirty 70's disco, raw satanism. (Visit homepage.)

June 14, 2002
Calmy returnig to the cash register with a new slate of drink orders, Max overheard two couple's conversations in a round booth in the corner. Apparently, the taller man's point was that the avant garde, no matter what concentration, could never really be called that because the true avant gardists were functioning in a manner that defied classification. The shorter lady with long blonde hair and a pointy nose maintained that the avant garde had always existed as a group of creators, also in any discipline, that in and of themselves consisted of and maintained their own set of intellectual criteria and disciplined standards. The other lady, wearing a black and white stripped shirt, pointed out that since WW II all the forms of the avant guard had existed as a form of institutional fulfillment, and stereotypical roles for the artist in society. The larger man countered with a rather lengthy diatribe on Marcel Duchamp's role in the post war Dada movement in Germany, and how this eventually influenced people as unlikely as Elton John's stage shows in the seventies. The other man wearing a coat and tie wondered aloud weather the Beetles were influenced by avant-garde artists of the early sixties. The opposite couple's bodies tightened up with the mention of such a popular notion, and continued on like the comment was never made. Max wondered what those four people did; it was not so unsimilar to a discussion he had participated in at Dorothy's last week. As soon as he finished with his current tables he could go over to John's to loosen up. He hated working like this, and looked forward to quitting as soon as his commission went through.

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