The Joe Budden Podcast may bear one man’s name, but it’s a group effort. It’s billed as being “With Rory and Mal” — two of Budden’s long-time friends, and it’s recorded at the home of Budden’s friend and engineer, Parks, who also gets a mic. This move to Parks’ apartment and out of a studio is when the podcast, which has always been hilarious and entertaining, really found its stride. It feels more personal now.

The format of the weekly show is simple. The friends discuss sex and relationships and the latest trending cultural topics. They spend a lot of time talking about hip hop and the music business and dabble in sports and other entertainment from time to time. Here they are discussing long-distance relationships and the protocol for responding to nudes in a clip from Episode 163:

Each episode, there is a rough list of topics Budden leads them through, but there are no pre-production meetings and nobody does any research. As a result, some segments are four grown men taking turns being aggressively loud and wrong about basic facts a simple Google search could clear up.

It should be off-putting, and I suppose sometimes it is. But most of the time, it’s just funny. It’s the casualness of the setting and tone that does it. It’s friends shooting the breeze. No one’s really trying to show anyone else up. Any heated disagreements are always defused with a well-timed joke.

The smartest move Budden has made is not to rely on guests for the show to work (this was something else he clashed with Complex about). He knows enough celebrities and music industry insiders and has a big enough platform that his podcast could become a go-to spot on promotional runs — particularly because of the sleeper tracks he, Rory, and Mal play at the end of each show to give artists they enjoy a signal boost. But Budden is adamant about maintaining the integrity of the show. Guests do stop by from time to time, but they usually give their views on whatever the topics at hand are, laugh at the jokes, and don’t do too much self-promotion.

Budden understands that he and his co-hosts are the draw.

Rory, who just turned 28, is the youngest of the group. He’s a red-headed Irish guy from Queens, who made his name on the Hennypalooza circuit, traveling the country throwing huge liquor-soaked parties. He’s The White Friend™ — the one who crossed a Black frat and has invites to the cookout in perpetuity. There is something earnest and sweet about him that brings a real humanity to the show. But every now and then, his Irish dander gets up.

In one episode, he talked about a run-in with a racist cab driver who felt comfortable spewing anti-Black rhetoric at him. He began recording on his phone and asked the driver to repeat himself. Disgusted, he got out and ordered a new ride.

“Wait, so you got out of the car?” was Budden’s response. The serious moment collapsed in on itself as, laughing, the others speculated about whether Rory would have been better off taking the ride and giving the driver a bad rating.

The topic soon switched to why the driver went full-on “let’s commiserate as racists” with a stranger in the first place. The consensus was that it was Rory’s new haircut, which was a little too tight and made him look like a skinhead.

This exchange sums up the show perfectly: It’s an improvised, darkly comedic radio play.

Mal, like Budden, is in his late 30s and has the strongest personality of the supporting cast. His comedic timing is near perfect at times, and he can create laugh-out-loud moments by merely shifting the tone of his voice. His frequent comment, “[something someone just said] is wild” nearly always gets a chuckle. He can be as combative as Budden, but he’s not as passionate. That’s something he and Budden butt heads over — his “too cool” persona. Every now and then, Budden gets annoyed, and his voice drops as he chides, “Don’t do that, Mal.”

Mal is something of a mystery. It’s a running joke that he’s never had a job, and Budden often teases him about secretly being a drug dealer. Mal is also a wild card — he’s the least politically correct of the group, even more so than Budden.

The podcast enters the danger zone whenever they discuss women’s issues. Rory starts fidgeting and can’t quite look Mal in the eye as they brace themselves. “This podcast is never going to get any sponsors,” Rory nearly always says with an exasperated laugh at some point during the conversation.

Whenever women’s issues come up, my first thought is: Stuff Mal into a burlap sack and sew it shut. Every now and then there’s a jump cut in the edit that lets you know they probably should have taken the advice. As the conversation goes on, I nearly always end up thinking: Yeah…Put Joe in the sack with Mal. Budden starts strong sometimes, but he can talk himself into a corner. Rory is making some good points, I’ll think. But it’s often soon followed by, Ugh…Shut up, Rory, and eventually, Et tu, Parks?

The four friends have spent most of their adult lives in the music business, specifically in hip hop, and, at times, were immersed in groupie culture. During these segments, they’re grappling with the casual misogyny they’ve absorbed over the years. The conversations are uncomfortable, but there are attempts to understand the issues and achieve real growth, particularly on Rory and Budden’s parts. For things to change, men need to have these kinds of discussions with each other, and even though I wish they were further along, it’s heartening to see the effort being made. I also appreciate them having the courage to do it publicly, knowing what a third rail it can be.

Parks is in this mid-thirties, and he’s very tall, angular and pale. You wouldn’t know that if you watch recent episodes of the podcast, though. At some point, the decision was made to leave him off-camera. At first, I thought it was a little disrespectful. After all, they’re at his crib and using his sound equipment. But in hindsight, it was kind of a genius move. It’s something else that gives the show a postmodern sitcom vibe. He’s a fully formed supporting character, who’s a disembodied voice.

Parks is more agreeable than everyone else, but he’s a low-key savage. His nonchalant delivery masks the viciousness of some of the jokes he lobs at the others.

Roasting is an important element of the show, and the sharp jabs the four cast members throw at each other are underpinned by a specific construct of manliness that can be quite rigid. They’re all uncomfortable getting too close to anything feminine or vaguely homoerotic. The sometimes caustic insults are a way of maintaining a safe distance.

Budden is more secure than the others, but like many New York men from certain backgrounds, he and his co-hosts play the “pause” game. Whenever anyone gets too close to the boundaries of traditional masculinity, they or someone else says “pause” — just to let you know they don’t really swing that way. It’s immature and retrograde, but, I have to admit, it can be pretty humorous.

This isn’t to say there aren’t any moments where the men show each other genuine emotional support. (Pause?)

In one episode, Budden hesitantly began to recount his break-up with his long-time barber. A hushed silence fell. You could have heard a pin drop. The seriousness of the situation demanded that even Mal abandon his aloof demeanor. He and the others gently prodded Budden (pause…), and let him know he could share his story free from ridicule.

Budden spoke of his dissatisfaction with the relationship, and his inability to demand what he needed. He spoke of his anxiety and shame over choosing ghosting as the means to end things. He was guilty about feeling happier with his new barber. He also discussed the awkward call his ex-barber made to express how hurt he was.

The support his friends showed him created quite a beautiful moment. I might even go so far as to call it tender. (PAUSE!)

This is the power of the content Budden creates. It’s authentic. He wants consumers who are genuinely interested in his point of view. It’s refreshing in a world where so many creators are just trying to get as many followers as possible, so they can flip them for monetization, while others are looking for acolytes.

Budden is also not afraid to look bad, something else that’s missing behind all the Snapchat and Instagram filters.