In modern music, few bands inspire devotion as fierce—or criticism as dismissive—as Twenty One Pilots. To some reviewers, their work is overly cryptic, emotionally heavy, or suspiciously calculated. To millions of listeners, it is something far more vital. That divide is exactly what drummer Josh Dun confronted head-on when he publicly defended his bandmate and brother-in-arms, Tyler Joseph.
“The music that saves millions of lives out there isn’t cheap marketing gimmicks,” Dun said bluntly. “Tyler tore his heart out to write every single word you’re dismissing.”
It wasn’t a soundbite. It was a line in the sand.
Lyrics Written in Bloodless Truth, Not Hype
From the beginning, Twenty One Pilots’ music has revolved around vulnerability—anxiety, faith, isolation, and the exhausting effort of staying present. Albums like Vessel and Blurryface didn’t just chart; they became emotional lifelines for fans who felt unseen elsewhere.
Critics, however, often framed that intensity as branding. Dun rejected that outright. Having witnessed Joseph’s writing process up close, he described it as draining, personal, and anything but performative. For Dun, questioning the sincerity of those lyrics isn’t artistic debate—it’s an erasure of lived experience.
Brotherhood Forged in Shared Weight
The bond between Joseph and Dun goes beyond music. Since forming the duo in Columbus, Ohio, the two have operated as equals—creative partners navigating pressure together. Dun has repeatedly emphasized that Joseph doesn’t write from a place of authority, but alongside listeners, never claiming to have answers.
That philosophy was misunderstood most sharply with Neon Gravestones from Trench. Some accused the song of mishandling sensitive themes. Dun countered that it was doing the opposite—challenging the way society commodifies pain. The discomfort, he argued, was intentional.
Cryptic by Design, Honest by Nature
Another frequent critique is the band’s symbolism-heavy storytelling. Songs like Kitchen Sink promote the idea that meaning doesn’t need to be universal to be life-sustaining. For fans—known as the Skeleton Clique—those coded messages aren’t puzzles for puzzles’ sake. They’re proof that survival can be personal.
Dun has consistently defended that approach, noting that the band’s job isn’t to simplify pain, but to sit with it honestly.
Proof Beyond the Critics
Despite skepticism from traditional media, the band’s impact is measurable. Twenty One Pilots became the first group to have every track on two albums certified Gold or Platinum by the RIAA. Their Grammy win for Stressed Out only amplified what fans already knew: this music connects because it’s real.
As their long-running narrative reached its climax with Clancy, Dun made one thing clear. He will always stand between the critics and the truth he sees every day.
For him, this isn’t about reviews. It’s about protecting the sincerity of a brother—and the millions who found a reason to keep going in the music they were told didn’t matter.