The Death of Balanced Critique
Corrupt adults from Ikebukuro
We open by talking about grinding content creation — trying to stack up a backlog of work while burning the candle at both ends. Ideally, we want to get ahead so we aren't scrambling for contributions at 11pm while blasting black metal recorded in a bathroom.
We get into black metal vs death metal — one down-to-earth and technical, the other cosplay and aesthetics-first. We revisit Mayhem and other black metal classics, wondering if we underrated them... only to re-listen and confirm: nah, it still sucks.
That kicks off a bigger conversation about over-correcting in criticism — sometimes giving things too many chances makes them look worse. We talk about the tension between trusting your intuition vs giving art a "fair shake."
This flows into the death of real critique in legacy media. Nobody publishes sustained negative reviews anymore, especially of mainstream stuff like Taylor Swift or Kanye. We argue that there’s more value in attacking mid-level targets — artists too obscure to be protected by stan armies but big enough to reveal larger trends.
We talk about how once something gets big enough, it’s not about the art anymore — it’s about identity and belonging. At that point, critique becomes impossible. But going after lesser-known figures can actually teach you something about contemporary culture without wading through waves of death threats.
Then we get into Kanye vs P Diddy: is there even a musical difference? Or is it all the same playbook — producer, rapper, clothing line mogul. We discuss how hype machines elevate some artists above their technical abilities just through timing, connections, and spectacle.
The vibe shifts into the absurd history of black metal scandals: necrophilia jokes, dead band members turned album covers, and the bizarre legacy of Mayhem. Somehow this leads us to the Joy Division singer, the ethics of replacing frontmen, and whether notoriety helps or hurts a band's legacy.
We transition to fasting and physical states — recounting a recent multi-day fast, sauna trips, and strange bodily reactions like shivering, tears, and trauma release. We speculate whether fasting triggers some kind of ancient metabolic or emotional reset.
This naturally leads us to Japan’s strange relationship with food — how everything is adapted to Japanese taste preferences: separate textures, bland flavors, and mild everything. We complain about the lack of real Indian food in Japan, how restaurants soften everything down for Japanese palettes, and why "authenticity" barely survives in the Japanese food industry.
We wrap by clowning on Anthony Bourdain-style travel shows — how curated and artificial they feel compared to daily life in Japan. We reflect on personal integrity, resisting cringe media offers, and remind everyone: don’t kill yourself over gentle vibes.
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