Dog in the Machine

Just wanted to explain myself. I love performing and writing music. It’s not always great but that is not always the point of it. I appreciate that I’m my own biggest fan and what other people think of my efforts remains a mystery. I tell myself frequently that my strength is in my lyrics. What comes out of my brain usually has some meaning to me and I hope that fragments of it also resonate with other people and their own experiences.

I have enjoyed the challenge of trying to get the best out of my music through endless hours experimenting in Cubase, but I have to face the fact that I am not a trained musician or producer. However hard I try, there is always a gap between what I end up making and what I actually hear in my head. If I had the resources and connections, I would do what any other artist in my situation would probably do and seek help from people who can make my imaginings a reality. If I could collaborate with amazing session musicians and a world class producer, then evidently my output would ascend to a much higher level. Unfortunately, I don’t really have the funds to access a professional studio and so I go on trying my best with what I do have.

A few weeks ago, I had an almost existential moment. After watching a few YouTube videos, I decided to experiment with Suno. I dropped in a full demo of one of my new songs. It had already been worked up quite a bit in Cubase, but it just wasn’t quite there. What Suno came back to me with took it less than 5 minutes and after listening to it I was astounded. It was an emotional experience. At last, I was hearing what I knew my songs could become. This was an almost perfect ready to go version. Suno has essentially given me that access to world class production that I could never afford before. Without Suno, my songs would still exist but in effect be unspoken. I do have questions about the process, but I cannot argue with the result. It is at the same time equally exhilarating and terrifying.

I am especially conflicted about the vocals here. They are quite incredible. Who would have thought that a computer could simulate such human emotion and complexity in a vocal performance. After years of vocal abuse in smokey pubs my voice is now a shadow of what it once was, I just can’t compete. What do I do?

I could just give up, but I know that songs will keep arising inside my complicated mind and they are definitely better out than in, so I don’t see that as an option.

I could maintain the status quo, but despite my enjoyment of the process, even my own enthusiasm will dwindle from shouting unheard into the wind. Even more frustrating knowing that better versions of my songs are literally just the push of a button away.

So, I have come to the conclusion that it makes no sense to withhold these AI versions, vocals and all.

Do I have some guilt around this? Of course I do. But let’s face it, these songs would simply not exist in this form without AI. I’m not suddenly not paying someone I would have done by taking this route. AI has used music to learn what makes good music and builds new songs around that experience, and I appreciate the arguments around this. But that is essentially what all musicians do and have always done. We all stand on the shoulders of the people who have come before us. Influence vs plagiarism, it’s a fine line.

Will AI change the way music is made? Absolutely. It will change the way everything is made. If I was a producer or a session musician, I would be wondering what my future will hold. I feel the same way as a doctor and an artist, both fields in which my own role is becoming increasingly redundant.

No one is going to stop this tide and the best we can do is try and ride it, let it takes us where we want to go and hope that we can remain relevant in some way in the process. These songs are still mine. The melodies, the words, the messages within them, the experiences behind them are not computer driven or derived. That will always be the case with anything I release. If you like the songs listen and enjoy, if you don’t, I understand.