Have you heard of Angine de Poitrine? They are a Quebecois experimental rock duo from a remote region in the north best known for beluga whales and fjords who perform as aliens in a getup of polka-dot masks with giant noses. Their music is a high-tempo mix of the White Stripes' raw energy, Frank Zappa's complex time signatures and Cirque du Soleil's playful absurdism … made from loops on a custom, double-necked bass/guitar and a driving drumbeat. They look and sound unlike anything anyone has ever seen or heard and have become one of the fastest-growing acts on the planet this year. Related Stories Music Peter Katsis, Manager For Jane's Addiction, Smashing Pumpkins and Morrissey, Dies at 69 Music A$AP Rocky Gives Update on Rihanna's Next Album: "She Cooking"
Angine de Poitrine has been hailed as an antidote to AI slop by everyone from critics to random commenters. Their act is so weird, unexpected, mathematically and artistically unpredictable, and original that it defies common logic. They don't chase clicks. Their costumes are handmade, each dot painstakingly painted on their limbs before the show. Their performances are a riot of energy, switching from jam band dancing to violent mosh pits in seconds, part rave, part post-punk art project. They've become the poster band for the analog movement that's sweeping Gen Alpha and Gen Z in defiance of an AI revolution young people are increasingly skeptical of.
I first began researching and writing about the resurgence of nondigital goods, spaces and experiences 20 years ago, back when the word "analog" was mostly used by engineers. This was the dawn of the smartphone and social media, a heady time of technological promise and digital evangelism. Silicon Valley was a beacon on a hill, and Mark Zuckerberg and Elon Musk remained beloved figures. I followed the analog revival through subsequent waves of digital innovation, from new streaming platforms and social networks to the emergence of VR, crypto and now AI.
Analog has continued its steady resurgence all that time despite consistent predictions of its impending demise. Sales of vinyl records and turntables, paper notebooks, pens, analog watches, board games, books and film cameras continued to grow, year after year. The pandemic increased our hunger for physical goods and in-person experiences. Broadway has not gone dark (attendance is positively booming), while concert tickets are precious commodities. The trend is broad, global and most importantly driven by youth … the very same kids who were supposed to cast off the physical world because they were "digital natives," completely enamored with screens.
Go into any bookstore or record store and you'll see customers in their 20s and 30s, thumbing through novels and Blu-rays. Walk around a city like New York, Budapest, Seoul or Mexico City and look who has film cameras hanging off their necks. Who packed movie theaters this year for films like Obsession and Backrooms ? On TikTok, Instagram and YouTube, it's Gen Z posting "Hey Guys" videos about the knitting, magazines and puzzles in their screen-free #analogbags and their plans for an unplugged #analogsummer.
The drivers of analog's resurgence are individuals born long after the internet arrived and who could navigate a smartphone before they could speak. Despite the false assumption that all "the kids" wanted were social media, video games and endless swipes, it is these kids, not wistful Boomers and Gen Xers, who have made analog a core cultural trend.
"Young people are self- selecting to engage with real, physical communities," says Rev. Moose, who runs the independent music agency Marauder, and is the founder of the National Independent Venue Association. Moose was buoyed by a recent conversation with a radio station manager at Colorado State University who'd seen a big uptick in listeners tuning in during the past year. "College radio offers alternatives to the algorithm," he notes. "The station is presenting the content as We Speak Human. They're feeling it, not just speaking it. That's an amazing thing." The industry's biggest challenge isn't getting young fans interested in live music, he says, it's getting them to afford it, at a time when tickets for popular concerts by artists like Zach Bryan or SZA start at hundreds of dollars (thank you, Ticketmaster/Live Nation).
The biggest misconception about the analog revival is that it's driven by nostalgia or some rejection of digital. But neither is true. Someone in their 20s and 30s who goes to see a chamber quartet (Gen Z and millennials led global attendance at classical concerts in 2025) aren't reminiscing about their days waltzing around Vienna, just as my children aren't taking their Instax cameras to summer camp to capture memories on film like they did decades before they were born. To them, analog is new, novel and an entirely unique experience compared to digital, which is the experiential equivalent of vanilla ice cream.
Our use of different technologies to create and consume culture is not binary. Barnes & Noble can sell more books and open more physical stores at the same time that audiobook sales increase. Streaming services like Amazon can upload more content online and release more movies into theaters. Everyone writing in a Moleskine notebook also uses a computer. That's not a contradiction, it's a choice.
"People have underestimated the importance of a social experience," says Tim Richards, founder and CEO of Vue, Europe's largest cinema operator. "People forget how fun it is to enjoy something with others." This year, Vue's audiences have returned from pandemic lows at an astounding rate. Vue's first quarter was bigger than all of last year, with 2026 forecast to see up to three times more ticket sales than 2025.
All of it is driven by young audiences. "We saw a 30 percent rise in Gen Z audiences last year," says Richards. "Gen Alpha is also in that camp. Those generations have a growing awareness about th...