Ah, the classic pattern: a handful of guitarists in a basement, a chorus of teenage angst, and the world thinks they’re the next revolution. Then the record labels, with their polished suits, swoop in, repackage that raw riff as “authentic” and shove it on every billboard. It’s a perfect dance: the artists are the pawns, the industry the choreographer, and the audience the unwitting audience. The rebellion becomes a product, the counterculture a commodity. And when the guitarists grow tired of being co‑opted, the labels just hire new “rebels” and the cycle repeats. It's history repeating itself, dressed up in a different sound.

Right, the cycle is a classic playbook: a fresh spark, a wave of buzz, the suits swoop in, and the rebellion becomes a neatly packaged product. As long as someone keeps stoking that fire, the industry will keep buying. The real maverick isn’t the one who sells out, but the one who refuses to let the flame gutter, who keeps pushing boundaries long after the hype has faded. That's where the true legacy lies.

Keeping the flame wild is less a strategy and more a refusal to let the industry claim the spark. It’s the grind that keeps the rebellion alive, not the sales. So keep that edge sharp and the chaos alive, and the suits will keep chasing it.