Producers Beware
I’m still trying to figure out how I feel about this.
A.I. has been very disruptive to my creative process. Whether my process been hampered, improved or replaced is up for debate. What’s undebatable, is that A.I. has stuck its nose all up in my business. As a digital artist, almost everything I “create” is touched by artificial influence. This has been true since I first opened Adobe Illustrator in high school. I was never good with a pencil or paint brush. The magic of line smoothing when drawing with a computer mouse is what gave me a career path. So what if I used the software to smooth out my line wobbles? My intention was always to draw smooth lines. I just couldn’t. The computer gave me a way.
In college, my graphic design professor said, “Photoshop is a tool. Never let the computer do the work for you.”
Well, that was before modern A.I.
I feel like I’m lying to myself these days. The void between idea and output is filled by a prompt. “A.I. is just a tool,” I keep telling myself, “just like the clone stamp or healing brush.” You can now remove backgrounds with a single click. You can now click the harmonize button to auto blend any object into any scene by matching color, lighting and shadows. You can now select any part of a digital image and prompt the change you want to see, bypassing the editing toolbar altogether. This shift was gradual and remains continual. The Magic Wand tool was introduced to Photoshop in version 0.87, which was the very first pre-release version of the software in 1988. As one of the original selection tools designed to select regions of similar color, it has been a staple of Photoshop since its inception. Adobe has always been invested in the magic of digital manipulation.
There is a magic to prompting. “Just explain what you want to see.” More often than not, the prompt output is better than anything I could do on my own. This is especially true for my weaker disciplines. Writing, coding, data analysis, research, math, cooking, and now…songwriting.
I am not an instrumentalist. An instrumentalist focuses on technical mastery. I’m far, far away from technical mastery. I can, though, safely classify myself as a musician. A musician is a broader term for anyone who creates, understands or performs music. While instrumentalists can be musicians, not all musicians are technical instrumentalists. But wouldn’t you know it… the computer has made a way.
I can pluck an idea as a musician, and filter it through A.I. to achieve technical mastery. This elevates the humble musician and humbles the elevated instrumentalist.
I was on vacation three years ago, when in a moment of boredom, I decided to stretch my inner musician. I learned a new scale on YouTube, quickly structured a simple arrangement, then setup a camera with my desktop condensor mic and recorded a raw multitrack session in Adobe Audition.
After some audio-engineering role play and matching sound to sight, here’s what came of the final render from Adobe Premiere:
“Not bad,” I thought. Certainly enough to qualify me as a musician, right?
Definitely still not an instrumentalist.
That is, until last week when I uploaded my song file to Suno.
Suno is an artificially intelligent audio editing tool available online. At present, one can create a free account and receive 50 generative credits a day. It’s brilliant marketing, because here I am (alongside hoards of other mindblown Suno converts) touting the capability of their product.
As a musician, I’ve always wanted to hear my ideas executed at the highest level. Until now, that highest level has been the ceiling of my own faulty fingers. Listen to the track below. My arrangement. My idea. My original audio-prompt. I added banjo, because I wanted to:
Suno has bridged the gap between musicians and instrumentalists. The same thing is happening in parallel industries. Not only am I an overnight instrumentalist, I am a mathematician, novelist, coder, strategist and chef. Or maybe I just have an inflated sense of self. Because I’m not any of those things. Ask me to perform my new song in front of a live audience and watch me quickly deflate. The tool makes me feel all-powerful, but the power is hollow—like I’m holding a trophy my body didn’t train for. The output feels like mine, but my hands don’t recognize it.
What does this mean for a new generation of kids who love music?
My daughter hasn’t stopped singing since her womb emancipation day. As a newly minted teenager, she is now writing poetry and humming her own custom melodies.
Pretty Little Flower
A poem by Violet BrackenJoy to all who've seen you
Joy to all who come
Pretty little flower
I wish you nothing but sun
Pretty little flower
in this world Unknown
you found a place to sway
You found a place to grow
Pretty little flower
in the grove so wide
You found a place to twirl
But never to hide.
Pretty little flower
in the sun you dance,
a smile to ever face
That sees you even just a glance.
Pretty little flower
in this world so wide
I hope your dance continues
in this grove of light.
Look up at the sky and see
the sun Shining graceful with delight
Look up at the sky and know
you shine twice as bright
Pretty little flower
In your grove of light
I hope you never to be touched
by the darkness of night
Only dark when enjoying
the dimly lit shade
Then the sun comes out
if only to grace
your petals of lilac
and your green leaves of jade
Joy to all who've seen you
Joy to all who soon may come
Pretty little flower
I wish you nothing
I wish you nothing
nothing but sun.
With her own original poem and her own original melody, we were able to stitch the song together in Suno. Take a listen to the different samples of style:
Like a Golden Retriever in a tennis ball factory, I hurried to the attic and unboxed an old CD. I was eager to experiment with the tracks I laid with my friends in high school.
What would high school Dan think? Would he think that future Dan was stealing his heart and soul? Would he have traded his bass guitar lessons for some artificial assistance? How will Violet respond? Is a tool like Suno a hindrance or an opportunity? Will she ever consider learning an instrument to accompany her angelic voice? Will live concerts hold higher premium in the future, or will they cease to exist? If technical mastery becomes cheap, what becomes rare? What do we lose when the gap between idea and output disappears?
Creativity will be a battle of ownership between human and machine. It’s within that struggle that new art will emerge. I would hate for Violet to outsource her voice before she even learns it.