This pod wonders how good and evil move through art, film, and sound, and how repetition reshapes sensitivity over time. The conversation tracks desensitization as a real process: exposure builds tolerance, shifts thresholds, and changes how images and ideas register in the body.

In our clanky manifesto-type way, we move through modern art and cinema—how artists construct unsettling imagery, why audiences engage with it, and how form, color, pacing, and sound carry emotional charge. The episode explores psychedelic perspectives and the emergence of vivid, visceral imagery—intense, symbolic, sometimes grotesque—alongside the pull toward beauty, symmetry, and light. Monsters and angels appear as recurring archetypes that organize these experiences.

This is also Part III of the Yaksman trilogy: in general, a focused pass through good vs evil as an active force inside the creative process, and how it continues to evolve in contemporary culture.

Basically, should I continue to make Black Metal and enjoy doom core stoner drone? We get into it. 

A full walkthrough of 2025 Brice Frillici album When The Gods —track by track, front to back. I talk through each piece as it comes up: where it came from, how it was built, what’s happening sonically, and how it fits into the larger arc of the album. Guitar tones, structure, vocal choices, production moves, secrets and lies involved, sequencing—everything gets opened up in real time.

Each section moves straight into a song, so you hear random contexts and then the results, back to back. Also we ramble as usual. Expect tangentiation. The album unfolds as a continuous experience, with commentary and playback wearing each other like mud on a Bigfoot. This is a direct window into the process, the decisions, and the internal logic of When The Gods as a complete work.

And that is saying too much. Moreso, let's face it, this is so personally meta and asking of any listener, that I understand if you will need an apology from me personally after this. Available upon request

Halloween Sucks (But Every Day Is Halloween)

He goes off the rails in this unfiltered podcast episode, announcing not one, not two, but three new albums dropping soon—each stranger and darker than the last. From the so-called “darkest album ever recorded” (Save the Gods) to a Viking-stoner-metal epic (Raids) and a synth-drenched nostalgia trip (Defiance of the Void), the ride swerves through horror, fake blood rituals, buckethead documentaries, and why Halloween is for amateurs when every day is Halloween. He won't drop this. Halloween just seems to continue to suck for him. Someone stop him. 

Cheap Magic is a long-form dive into the underground world of Brice Frillici guy. This podcast is mega liner notes—part casual monologue, part behind-the-scenes journal. Brice opens up the vault on upcoming albums, art books, and projects, weaving stories around their creation and what they mean.

The current season builds toward August 19th, when a burst of new work lands all at once: multiple original albums, Original human AND AI-collaborative works, and visual books that trace twenty years of sound and image. It’s a flood of material, but each piece is given extended time to breathe here—introduced in detail, described with quiziological and graphic grit, and grounded in the lived experience of a carpenter, artist, and underground musician navigating what it means to keep the dream alive.

Why the albums exist, what the books are about, and how they connect to a life. Expect wandering descriptions, unexpected tangents, and moments of clarity that make you feel like you’re sitting across from him at the table.

[Intro music fades in—lo-fi guitar, tape hiss, maybe a passing train in the distance, a rooster, and a barking dog, and someone yelling at it to shut up]

Welcome to Samorozpadu Zamysleni, the official podcast companion to my latest country album, recorded with Milarepo Man on instrumental backups. I do all vocals, keys, and guitar solos, and arrangements etc. As usual my role as Producer comes through.

This is a place for wandering thoughts, crooked lines, and earnest unravelings. I riff. I ramble. I retrace the steps that led to these tracks—whether they begin in a roadside diner, a sleepless night, or a half-remembered dream from 1998.

I peel back the dustcloth on the album. I talk influences, directions taken, reasons why, and the mess of feelings and accidents that shaped it. It’s part liner notes, part field recording, part trip. I go on tangents. The kind you only get when no one’s cutting you off, and you’re allowed to chase meaning down a dirt road until it disappears into trees.

You can also read this whole thing, if you prefer slow words over spoken ones. I’ve turned it into an article on the Sekdek blog. You’ll find the link in the notes, or just head over to https://www.sekdek.com/blog/samorozpadu-zamysleni-by-milarepo-man

This is Samorozpadu Zamysleni.

[Intro music fades out]

Brought to you in part by the Tacoma Psychedelic Society....NOT!!!!

A barrage, a download, a spontaneous offering of questions, references, irreverence, reverence, and psychic residue. Think of it less as a formal outline and more like a napkin sketch of a shared neural storm.

I wrote this letter to Mr Ungoogleable—as mail and an ask—but more as a mirror. A correspondence to ask him to do a podcast with me for the Tacoma Psychedelic Society. Although all that fell to shit on the TPS end, the process led me to the cool artist Void Denizen. And that led to this pod, which is kinda like a spontaneous salvage. 

This episode touches on pareidolia, driftwood shamans, black metal tape hiss ethics, the difference between Bwiti rhythm and Spotify shuffle, and whether the DMT gods are tired of being gendered,psychedelic overpromises, AI art, ketamine clinics, and the cosmic prank that left Terence McKenna mushroomed in every direction. Mostly it is a podcast of all questions to the Void. 

Today’s episode cracks open my latest art exhibit, now live on sekdek.com — a photographic series titled Sekdek Legal. This body of work is my unflinching attempt to dissect the legal caste system through the medium of portraiture, drawing deeply from the sterile psychosis of Bret Easton Ellis’s world — particularly American Psycho, where charm and violence are sold in the same suit.

The photos hold their subjects in an eerie stasis: stiff or messed collars, cold eyes, a staged sanity on the verge of rupture. Think Cindy Sherman meets Philip-Lorca diCorcia, with the performative plasticity of the subject intentionally overlit, overly perfect — dead behind the smile. There's also a nod to Diane Arbus, whose fascination with the grotesque inside the everyday is channeled here not through freakshow imagery, but through corporate polish and soulless ambition. 

Their crimes are contracts. Their weapons are language.

We’ll touch on the broken system they represent, the way legal mythology launders mayhem into virtue, and how this series fits into my broader Sekdek mythology. Monsters seeking light, even when they are still monsters.

And to close it out, I’ll be debuting a new track off my upcoming album Raids, the sonic sequel to Galion — my 2024 album that explored redemption through distortion and drone. This track rides in like scorched cavalry, fuzzed-out and defiant. It’s called King Azrael  — and like the portraits, it stares down the lie.

The Yaksman II

The Yaksman I