Sekdek Podcast

A long, rambling critique of a fellow podcaster becomes something much larger: a meditation on conspiracy theories about conspiracy theories, the seductions of darker interpretations, and the overly critical lenses that can mistake suspicion for insight. Along the way, the episode examines how cultural criticism goes wrong—how context is flattened, motives are invented, and complexity is forced into neat accusations.

At the center is a long-form defense of Jean-Michel Basquiat: not as a market myth, doomed celebrity, or convenient symbol, but as a serious, historically aware artist whose work absorbed race, power, language, music, money, anatomy, and the contradictions of 1980s New York. Part rebuttal, part cultural autopsy, and part defense of artistic ambiguity, this episode argues that criticism becomes useless when it is more interested in exposing a hidden crime than understanding the work in front of it.

A commute-to-work podcast. A depressing and kinda bitter rant on my way to work turns into a stupid and silly ramble about my difficult job and ultimately showcases my state of mind while heading to work very early in the morning. I like to capitalize on drive time and record pods, so I yap about my legal work, AI a bit, and the cringiness of how people think AI is so cringy. Basically a live field recording of my brain before sunrise, driving to work and trying to make use of the miles. The thing is, I go off the rails a bit, and things get out of control around the seven-minute mark. And a surprising amount of self-amusement arises. I don't mind showing how much of a dork I am. If I were a girl, I'd like me and would consider dating me. Warning #1: I say the word Congletariot. If that is offensive somehow, I am sorry to whoever it offends. Warning #2: I do accents. Because I am from the 90s and like comedy, and don't think doing accents is disrespectful or racist. I also think asians are smart. And whites aren't as good at basketball. I'll crush ya. 

Back again, testing out some new, supposedly “final” raw versions from Song Belongs to Room. When I say final—hell no, it ain’t over. I’ve still got a few others on deck: some Faith No More, some Metallica, The Neville Brothers, Atari Teenage Riot, Misfits, Fugazi, Benjamin Clementine—all coming up. Keeping the dream alive.

For now, this one is a little more inclusive and in the works. I’m digging into some tracks that may or may not ultimately be of the caliber this project needs, but they’re still worth listening to, talking about, and—for posterity—posting the progress notes. Some work. Some almost work. Some might need to get torn apart again. 

So here’s another loose radio hourish (whorish) of cover songs, studio observations, vocal experiments, arrangement decisions, production rabbit holes, stories, tangents, and whatever else comes up while I listen back and figure out what these things actually want to become.  

A black metal overview session with my bouncer co-worker from a bar we both worked at. He was like a skinhead gutter punk hardcore type, but a black metal version. And I was a non-skinhead redneck version of gutter punk and hardcore, but in a much more original and not easily describable way. More like I embodied distortion in my vibe. And the symphonies that existed/exist in my head all the time frequently show up as black metal. Essentially, the black metal sounds calm my nervous system, as they did Ben Affleck's character in the movie The Accountant. Something connects autism to black metal. There... I said it. It has now been said. 

This one follows no beaten path. A wildling song study melting into rant, riffage, ramble, vision quest, daydream, warble, and eventually some kind of accidental launch into deep space. I am not entirely sure where it starts, where it ends, or what shape it becomes along the way. But it exists. 

Episode four of Song Belongs to Room meanders the collection yet again, where familiar songs become unfamiliar again. Hell no, it ain’t over. Join Brice Frillici for another free-flowing sesh of music, tall tales, observatory mayhem, and creative rabbit pods as he unpacks and squeezes out the choices behind each recording and life choices. Equal parts listening party, pity party, studio commentary, and late-night conversation/argument, this episode celebrates the joy of taking great songs apart and humpty-dumptying them back together again.

In this third installment of Song Belongs to Room, Brice Frillici props the studio door open, exploring the strange intersection where performance, production, memory, and experimentation collide. Each cover song becomes a jumping-off point into conversations about songwriting, recording techniques, favorite artists, random memories, and the creative decisions that transformed familiar songs into something his. Mine. I write. I sing. I pretend. I deep dive. HE treats the microphone less like a script and more like an old friend sitting on the couch while another stack of songs spins through the speakers. WE enjoy it.

Welcome back to Song Belongs to Room, the continuing mini-series where Brice Frillici dives headfirst into his sparkly collection of 50+ cover songs and all the strange places they lead. Join Brice as he wilds out and riffs—sometimes randomly, sometimes not—about the songs, their making, the recording process, happy accidents, tricks, performances, inspirations, obscure references, backstories, influences, and whatever unexpected tangents emerge along the way. Part radio show, part studio diary, and part musical archaeology, each episode offers an unfiltered look inside a project built on curiosity, experimentation, and a genuine love of great songwriting.