No longer just a blurry background in coffee shops or a relaxing playlist after class, music – especially experimental music – has become a language for Gen Z. A form of declaration. A way to express oneself quietly yet profoundly. In it, every strange sound, every unusual rhythm becomes an authentic piece of personality and emotion of the times.
Sounds – A mirror reflecting personal identity
Experimental music has long been a challenging realm for most listeners due to its ambiguity – sometimes “hard to understand”, even… uncomfortable. However, for Gen Z – the generation born in the digital age, where everything is both fragmented and personalized – this genre has become the perfect touchpoint in their journey of self-discovery.
A distorted synth line in Grimes’ “Kill V. Maim”, the broken electronic howls of Arca, or the hazy ambient layers of Yeule are no longer just auditory disturbances – they become sonic mirrors, reflecting the flickering emotions, nonlinear thoughts, and multi-layered personalities of young listeners. In that space, they aren’t forced to “understand”, but simply to “feel” – in their own unique way.
A generation that loves things that are difficult to hear
In a world saturated with formulas – from top charts to catchy melodies – Gen Z tends to swim against the current. They aren’t swept up by mainstream tastes but are drawn to unpredictable music, the kind that doesn’t easily “click” on the first listen. For them, unfamiliarity isn’t something to fear – it sparks curiosity, like stepping into an uncharted forest.
Experimental music offers something that mainstream genres often lack: a raw sense of authenticity, an emotional space untouched by polish. Sounds that are unrefined – whether glitchy, distorted, or chaotic – strangely resonate with the layered psyche of the younger generation. Growing up amid environmental anxiety, social unrest, and the pressure of social media, it’s the very “imperfections” in music that make them feel seen and understood.
Music – Not just listened, but made
Gen Z doesn’t stop at just being listeners. They are a generation that masters technology, embraces bold creativity, and refuses to be bound by traditional musical norms. In a small room, with just a laptop, a pair of headphones, and software like Ableton or FL Studio, a Gen Z artist can craft an entire sonic universe – one that is fearless, experimental, and unapologetically honest.
Many young Vietnamese are now stepping into that space. A 20-year-old producer in Saigon might blend the sound of the dan tranh (Vietnamese 16-stringed zither) with lo-fi electronic beats, while an indie producer in Da Nang releases a noise-pop EP on Bandcamp, colored by the cool gray tones of a city in transition. They don’t need record label contracts or approval from critics – with just a SoundCloud link or a short TikTok video, they can connect with a community through their own musical voice.
Space for identity freedom
Experimental music defies formulas and definitions – making it a fertile ground for personal identity to fully bloom. In that space, there’s no “right” or “wrong”, only what’s “real” or “fake”. And Gen Z – the generation that once hid their true emotions behind screens, once felt pressured to conform in a homogenized world – is now finding freedom in their very sense of… difference.
Music is no longer just an outfit made to sound pretty – it has become an inner breath. A young person might find themselves in a 12-minute instrumental track filled only with breaths and static, because in that space, there is no judgment. They can cry. They can drift.
In an age where everything is measured by likes, shares, and rankings, experimental music becomes a precious “blank space” – a place where Gen Z can simply be themselves, without explanation. It’s where the self doesn’t need to be rationalized, only listened to – as a being full of distorted but honest sounds. It doesn’t need to be understood. It doesn’t need to top the charts. It just needs to reach the right soul. And for Gen Z, it already has – quietly, but deeply – like a manifesto not written in words, but in sound.
Taylor | Cameron Truong
