It’s an interesting conversation. As a songwriter and recording artist with 50 years and 18 records under my belt, it’s hard NOT to have an opinion on all this. William’s argument is compelling. I remember the furor over synthesizers; the move from 2” tape to digital files; from vinyl to CD; the arguments over pitch correction vs autotune. Each new technology had its tradition-bound detractors. Yet each new advancement eventually found a place in the ecosystem. Progress will out.
AI feels different. But feelings shouldn’t rule the day, and I need to examine those feelings. William is using the new tool with integrity, bringing his musicianship and experience to bear on the process. I don’t begrudge him the tool. But that’s not where my concerns lie.
1. Sheer volume. It was always hard to get heard in an industry flooded with aspiring artists. By putting professional-sounding production within the reach of millions of new amateurs, how hard will it be to get heard now? I honestly don’t know. But it suggests the need for new levels of discernment (gatekeeping if you like). My Facebook feed is flooded with Suno ads marketing the new technology to any poet with some unpublished lines.
2. The death of studio work. How long will it take for the corporate honchos in Nashville and LA to push their producers to cut costs via AI? They have shareholders too. Will this make session work a thing of the past? You’ll still need players to send acts on the road with. But the labor aspect concerns me.
Hopefully I’m not coming off as some retrograde Luddite. If William has a good answer for my concerns, let’s hear them. Thanks for the thought provoking article!
Jess, I appreciate the thoughtful perspective. Having five decades to my four in the game gives your words weight, and I don't take the "Luddite" label lightly—your concerns are practical, not just emotional.
To address the "sheer volume" and "death of studio work," here is how I’m actually using these tools to enhance, rather than replace, the craft:
What I Can Do with AI
Prototyping & Arrangement: I can instantly hear how a lyric sounds in different genres or tempos. It’s like having a world-class session band on call 24/7 just to "try things out" before I commit to a final recording.
Stem Creation: I can generate specific textures or background layers that I then manipulate, chop, and re-sample, keeping the human "musicianship" at the center of the mix.
Iterative Lyric Testing: AI helps me stress-test rhyme schemes and meter by hearing them performed in real-time, allowing for faster refinement of the "unpublished lines" you mentioned.
Assuaging the Concerns
On Volume: You’re right; the signal-to-noise ratio is about to get much worse. However, as with the transition to digital, taste and curation remain the ultimate filters. AI makes production easy, but it doesn't make vision any easier. The "gatekeeping" will likely shift back to live performance and authentic brand-building—things AI can't fake.
On Studio Labor: While corporate "honchos" will always look for shortcuts, AI-generated tracks often lack the "happy accidents" and soul that come from a room full of session players. I see it as a tool for the independent artist to compete with big-budget labels, potentially leveling the playing field for those of us without a Nashville/Los Angeles budget.
To your point about the "poet with unpublished lines," the most profound shift isn't just in the production—it’s in the iterative power and the dissolution of language barriers.
Rapid Iteration
In the traditional model, "trying a new direction" meant hours of re-tracking or expensive studio recalls. Now, I can iterate at the speed of thought:
Genre-Bending: I can hear a folk ballad as a trip-hop track in seconds to see if the emotional core holds up.
Melodic Exploration: If a vocal line feels stagnant, I can generate five variations of a bridge to find the one that sparks a "real" human performance.
Constraint-Free Drafting: I’m no longer limited by my own technical proficiency on a specific instrument during the writing phase. I can compose for a cello suite or a brass section without needing to hire a full ensemble just to see if the idea works.
Language Is No Longer a Barrier
This is perhaps the biggest "game changer" for global reach. AI allows me to:
Cross-Lingual Phonetics: I can adapt my lyrics into Spanish, French, or even Amharic (which I've done) while maintaining the original meter and rhyme scheme.
Cultural Translation: It’s not just about word-for-word translation; I can use AI to ensure the idiomatic meaning translates, allowing my stories to resonate in cultures I’ve never visited.
Universal Collaboration: I can collaborate with artists globally, using AI as a real-time translator for both technical studio talk and the nuances of songwriting.
The tools have changed, but the goal remains the same: connecting with an audience.
This is all relevant and interesting stuff, but I think you've missed one of the points Jess was making (though I'm happy to be corrected). That point is that AI can and will be used to produce such a quantity of art that it will be difficult to navigate it, and the corporates will encourage it, because their short-term profits will increase - if only because the donkey-work will be externalised to the artist, whose time and computer don't have value to them. I have a vision of a future with sub-Stock Aitken and Waterman dross being pumped out endlessly. Maybe, in time, your "use AI as a tool" approach will gain traction, but I don't see you factoring in the immediate-gratification-with minimum-work mindset which seems to be far from unusual these days.
Fortunately, it's not going to affect me - my musical tastes are firmly rooted in the past, and getting further away in time - but it does cause me some concern.
Welcome to the Stack, Jeremy. You’ve hit on the crux of the issue: the temptation of the 'minimum-work' mindset. My argument is that while the floor for production has been lowered, the ceiling for true artistry has actually been raised. Corporations will always chase volume, but they can't automate the lived experience and 'taste' that long-time listeners—yourself included—demand. I don't see AI as a way to do less work, but as a way to do different, more expansive work.
Thanks, William - I'm a long-term lurker, to use an old phrase! I can see what you are saying, and it makes sense. It can be argued that there has never been a huge contemporary market for "high art" in any period - so much of what we consider brilliant now was not generally well-regarded at the time (not all, but a significant amount). New tools have always been regarded with suspicion (Jess pointed out some recent ones, and a brief glance at music history shows many more), so this is probably just another one. I do worry about the democratisation of art in the short term, for the reasons Jess mentioned, but looking at younger people and their love of making art, there *is* hope for the future.
Having considered a bit more, AI in the hands of craftspeople could be stunning - I think of, say, Max Richter using it and have thrills running down my back!
I'm with you on the Max Richter perspective. He’s right to warn about the "vanilla-isation" of culture. If we use AI to simply automate the soul out of music for the sake of volume or "dross," we aren't just losing the craft—we're losing the human connection that makes music "magic" in the first place.
My approach is the opposite of the "push-button" shortcut. I’m using these tools to expand the sandbox, not to walk away from the sandbox. For me, the AI is a high-end session band and a linguistic bridge, but the "conception"—as the Supreme Court just reaffirmed—has to be mine.
As the market gets flooded with low-effort content, I believe "taste" and "authenticity" become the only real currencies left. I’m not looking to do less work; I’m looking to do more expansive, human work that wasn't possible before.
A well-written skewer in the hearts of The Keepers of The Tomb, funny, sarcastic, and wholly convincing. Onwards and upwards to all like you who are on the front line!
A very similar thing is happening in the book world. A massive influx of AI-written books (or are they?) has made it a thousand times harder for existing authors to be seen or stay afloat in Amazon's algorithms. This has led to insane witch-hunts to weed out any hint of AI taint that often end up catching people who aren't really guilty in the crosshairs. A recent example of my own:
I commissioned a new cover for an older book of mine in order to do some updated marketing. I made sure the cover was non-AI, as I knew this witch hunt was already underway. After getting the new cover, I joined a Book Funnel promotion (it's a way authors can organize and join group promos for similarly themed books). A few days before it launched, the moderator contacted me to tell me that my book had been removed because she ran the cover through an AI-detector (which is of course, rather ironically, AI-driven) and was told it was AI. I countered that my cover artist had assured me it was not. The only thing I can do is trust the artist. I was told that I was naive and had obviously been lied to. I was also told to never again join one of her promos since if I was willing to use AI cover art (even unknowingly, I guess), then it "proved" (in her mind) that I probably used AI to write my books as well — never mind that this novel was first published back in 2015 when AI wasn't even a thing.
Recent group promos seek to prohibit anybody who uses AI for anything at all, including "promotion, brainstorming, and/or outlining." Not sure how they'd even know that AI was used for brainstorming and/or outlining, but they're sure as hell determined to police it! I was also advised that I should re-edit my books because they contain both the Oxford comma and a lot of EM dashes. People have decided this is "evidence" of having been written by AI. So this basically amounts to me being branded as "uses AI" even though this is impossible because my books were all published prior to 2019 and therefore pre-date the existence of AI!
It's an interesting quandary, and while I see both sides, I also think the witch hunt has gone way too far. I personally don't want or need to use AI to write books, but it'd be great to be able to use it for things like making promotional images to use in newsletters (I'm a writer, not a graphical artist!), but I'm too afraid of the backlash.
To be told that the Oxford comma and em dashes—standard marks of professional punctuation—are now 'evidence' of AI is peak absurdity. It suggests that to prove we are human, we must now write with less precision.
The fact that your work predates the technology by nearly a decade, yet is still caught in this 'witch hunt,' proves that these moderators aren't actually looking for facts—they are looking for a reason to gatekeep.
Using an AI-driven detector to 'police' human creativity is the ultimate contradiction.
It’s a bizarre 'catch-22': if you hire a human artist, you’re held liable for their process; if you use professional punctuation, you’re a machine. When the 'purity test' starts rejecting books written in 2015, the system hasn't just gone too far—it’s completely broken.
It’s an interesting conversation. As a songwriter and recording artist with 50 years and 18 records under my belt, it’s hard NOT to have an opinion on all this. William’s argument is compelling. I remember the furor over synthesizers; the move from 2” tape to digital files; from vinyl to CD; the arguments over pitch correction vs autotune. Each new technology had its tradition-bound detractors. Yet each new advancement eventually found a place in the ecosystem. Progress will out.
AI feels different. But feelings shouldn’t rule the day, and I need to examine those feelings. William is using the new tool with integrity, bringing his musicianship and experience to bear on the process. I don’t begrudge him the tool. But that’s not where my concerns lie.
1. Sheer volume. It was always hard to get heard in an industry flooded with aspiring artists. By putting professional-sounding production within the reach of millions of new amateurs, how hard will it be to get heard now? I honestly don’t know. But it suggests the need for new levels of discernment (gatekeeping if you like). My Facebook feed is flooded with Suno ads marketing the new technology to any poet with some unpublished lines.
2. The death of studio work. How long will it take for the corporate honchos in Nashville and LA to push their producers to cut costs via AI? They have shareholders too. Will this make session work a thing of the past? You’ll still need players to send acts on the road with. But the labor aspect concerns me.
Hopefully I’m not coming off as some retrograde Luddite. If William has a good answer for my concerns, let’s hear them. Thanks for the thought provoking article!
Jess, I appreciate the thoughtful perspective. Having five decades to my four in the game gives your words weight, and I don't take the "Luddite" label lightly—your concerns are practical, not just emotional.
To address the "sheer volume" and "death of studio work," here is how I’m actually using these tools to enhance, rather than replace, the craft:
What I Can Do with AI
Prototyping & Arrangement: I can instantly hear how a lyric sounds in different genres or tempos. It’s like having a world-class session band on call 24/7 just to "try things out" before I commit to a final recording.
Stem Creation: I can generate specific textures or background layers that I then manipulate, chop, and re-sample, keeping the human "musicianship" at the center of the mix.
Iterative Lyric Testing: AI helps me stress-test rhyme schemes and meter by hearing them performed in real-time, allowing for faster refinement of the "unpublished lines" you mentioned.
Assuaging the Concerns
On Volume: You’re right; the signal-to-noise ratio is about to get much worse. However, as with the transition to digital, taste and curation remain the ultimate filters. AI makes production easy, but it doesn't make vision any easier. The "gatekeeping" will likely shift back to live performance and authentic brand-building—things AI can't fake.
On Studio Labor: While corporate "honchos" will always look for shortcuts, AI-generated tracks often lack the "happy accidents" and soul that come from a room full of session players. I see it as a tool for the independent artist to compete with big-budget labels, potentially leveling the playing field for those of us without a Nashville/Los Angeles budget.
To your point about the "poet with unpublished lines," the most profound shift isn't just in the production—it’s in the iterative power and the dissolution of language barriers.
Rapid Iteration
In the traditional model, "trying a new direction" meant hours of re-tracking or expensive studio recalls. Now, I can iterate at the speed of thought:
Genre-Bending: I can hear a folk ballad as a trip-hop track in seconds to see if the emotional core holds up.
Melodic Exploration: If a vocal line feels stagnant, I can generate five variations of a bridge to find the one that sparks a "real" human performance.
Constraint-Free Drafting: I’m no longer limited by my own technical proficiency on a specific instrument during the writing phase. I can compose for a cello suite or a brass section without needing to hire a full ensemble just to see if the idea works.
Language Is No Longer a Barrier
This is perhaps the biggest "game changer" for global reach. AI allows me to:
Cross-Lingual Phonetics: I can adapt my lyrics into Spanish, French, or even Amharic (which I've done) while maintaining the original meter and rhyme scheme.
Cultural Translation: It’s not just about word-for-word translation; I can use AI to ensure the idiomatic meaning translates, allowing my stories to resonate in cultures I’ve never visited.
Universal Collaboration: I can collaborate with artists globally, using AI as a real-time translator for both technical studio talk and the nuances of songwriting.
The tools have changed, but the goal remains the same: connecting with an audience.
This is all relevant and interesting stuff, but I think you've missed one of the points Jess was making (though I'm happy to be corrected). That point is that AI can and will be used to produce such a quantity of art that it will be difficult to navigate it, and the corporates will encourage it, because their short-term profits will increase - if only because the donkey-work will be externalised to the artist, whose time and computer don't have value to them. I have a vision of a future with sub-Stock Aitken and Waterman dross being pumped out endlessly. Maybe, in time, your "use AI as a tool" approach will gain traction, but I don't see you factoring in the immediate-gratification-with minimum-work mindset which seems to be far from unusual these days.
Fortunately, it's not going to affect me - my musical tastes are firmly rooted in the past, and getting further away in time - but it does cause me some concern.
Welcome to the Stack, Jeremy. You’ve hit on the crux of the issue: the temptation of the 'minimum-work' mindset. My argument is that while the floor for production has been lowered, the ceiling for true artistry has actually been raised. Corporations will always chase volume, but they can't automate the lived experience and 'taste' that long-time listeners—yourself included—demand. I don't see AI as a way to do less work, but as a way to do different, more expansive work.
Thanks, William - I'm a long-term lurker, to use an old phrase! I can see what you are saying, and it makes sense. It can be argued that there has never been a huge contemporary market for "high art" in any period - so much of what we consider brilliant now was not generally well-regarded at the time (not all, but a significant amount). New tools have always been regarded with suspicion (Jess pointed out some recent ones, and a brief glance at music history shows many more), so this is probably just another one. I do worry about the democratisation of art in the short term, for the reasons Jess mentioned, but looking at younger people and their love of making art, there *is* hope for the future.
Having considered a bit more, AI in the hands of craftspeople could be stunning - I think of, say, Max Richter using it and have thrills running down my back!
I'm with you on the Max Richter perspective. He’s right to warn about the "vanilla-isation" of culture. If we use AI to simply automate the soul out of music for the sake of volume or "dross," we aren't just losing the craft—we're losing the human connection that makes music "magic" in the first place.
My approach is the opposite of the "push-button" shortcut. I’m using these tools to expand the sandbox, not to walk away from the sandbox. For me, the AI is a high-end session band and a linguistic bridge, but the "conception"—as the Supreme Court just reaffirmed—has to be mine.
As the market gets flooded with low-effort content, I believe "taste" and "authenticity" become the only real currencies left. I’m not looking to do less work; I’m looking to do more expansive, human work that wasn't possible before.
Thanks for keeping the bar high.
A well-written skewer in the hearts of The Keepers of The Tomb, funny, sarcastic, and wholly convincing. Onwards and upwards to all like you who are on the front line!
A very similar thing is happening in the book world. A massive influx of AI-written books (or are they?) has made it a thousand times harder for existing authors to be seen or stay afloat in Amazon's algorithms. This has led to insane witch-hunts to weed out any hint of AI taint that often end up catching people who aren't really guilty in the crosshairs. A recent example of my own:
I commissioned a new cover for an older book of mine in order to do some updated marketing. I made sure the cover was non-AI, as I knew this witch hunt was already underway. After getting the new cover, I joined a Book Funnel promotion (it's a way authors can organize and join group promos for similarly themed books). A few days before it launched, the moderator contacted me to tell me that my book had been removed because she ran the cover through an AI-detector (which is of course, rather ironically, AI-driven) and was told it was AI. I countered that my cover artist had assured me it was not. The only thing I can do is trust the artist. I was told that I was naive and had obviously been lied to. I was also told to never again join one of her promos since if I was willing to use AI cover art (even unknowingly, I guess), then it "proved" (in her mind) that I probably used AI to write my books as well — never mind that this novel was first published back in 2015 when AI wasn't even a thing.
Recent group promos seek to prohibit anybody who uses AI for anything at all, including "promotion, brainstorming, and/or outlining." Not sure how they'd even know that AI was used for brainstorming and/or outlining, but they're sure as hell determined to police it! I was also advised that I should re-edit my books because they contain both the Oxford comma and a lot of EM dashes. People have decided this is "evidence" of having been written by AI. So this basically amounts to me being branded as "uses AI" even though this is impossible because my books were all published prior to 2019 and therefore pre-date the existence of AI!
It's an interesting quandary, and while I see both sides, I also think the witch hunt has gone way too far. I personally don't want or need to use AI to write books, but it'd be great to be able to use it for things like making promotional images to use in newsletters (I'm a writer, not a graphical artist!), but I'm too afraid of the backlash.
The irony here is staggering.
To be told that the Oxford comma and em dashes—standard marks of professional punctuation—are now 'evidence' of AI is peak absurdity. It suggests that to prove we are human, we must now write with less precision.
The fact that your work predates the technology by nearly a decade, yet is still caught in this 'witch hunt,' proves that these moderators aren't actually looking for facts—they are looking for a reason to gatekeep.
Using an AI-driven detector to 'police' human creativity is the ultimate contradiction.
It’s a bizarre 'catch-22': if you hire a human artist, you’re held liable for their process; if you use professional punctuation, you’re a machine. When the 'purity test' starts rejecting books written in 2015, the system hasn't just gone too far—it’s completely broken.