Hello folks, and welcome back to Wrong Every Time. Today we’re checking back in on Lilisa and the gang for a fresh episode of Rock is a Lady’s Modesty, as our group prepares for their first performance as a quartet. The stakes are high for this endeavor, as the show is actually a winner-takes-all Battle of the Bands, with ace guitarist Shiro sworn to join whichever group emerges victorious. Who will win, and whose skulls will pave the road of their opponents’ rise to glory!?
Well alright, I suppose it’s not quite that extreme. Nonetheless, this battle of the bands typifies what I’ve come to see as a fundamental philosophical disagreement between myself and Modesty’s original mangaka Hiroshi Fukuda. To him, rock music appears to be a battlefield, a place where violent personalities clash in pursuit of utter domination. He seems to view rock as something you can “win,” and I could not disagree more; I see rock as a place of solidarity, defined by community rather than individualism, where all contributions are valued in their own way. As such, a character like Shiro just seems utterly repellant to me, embodying values I see as alternately superficial (“rock is about raising a middle finger to society”) and antisocial (“rock is about proving how I’m the best”).
I can at least understand where Fukuda is coming from; the “rock” of this production is set up in direct contrast to the forced social propriety of Oushin, and that conflict maps reasonably well to a more general contrast of “individualism versus collectivism.” But I feel like sanding off the nuances of each of these philosophies has resulted in a selfish, somewhat juvenile rock ethos, where personal rejection of propriety is the highest goal, rather than the project of collective liberation embodied by rock’s greatest firebrands (which would in turn fit so well into the larger cultural divides this show occasionally gestures towards). My hope is that Fukuda knows this as well, and that our leads are intentionally being characterized as myopic in their perspective, with a revelation on the horizon regarding rock’s genuine liberatory potential. But for now, let’s grind Bitter Ganache into the fucking dirt!