My friend opened the door and I entered in. The first thing that greeted me was a pile of vinyl records on the floor, right where everyone’s shoes were. I took mine off, peering over the records, trying to see what they were. I didn’t recognize any of the artists, and in any case I was now being guided to the lounge.
There the room was full. I wanted to sit down. But there didn’t seem to be any space. Seeing my predicament, the host greeted me.
"Hang on," he said. "I just need to move these here."
Another pile of records were promptly picked up from a couch and placed on the floor, along with a couple of others. There were piles of vinyl everywhere, as if the home was some kind of record store.
Music has always meant so much to me—a gift in my life that has given me joy and solace. I listen to just about every genre. A summer’s day driving, windows open, Cape Verde-style guitars strumming to the soothing sounds of Portuguese singing. At the beach, listening to Chris Rea or The Eagles. Choral music for when I take a nap or in my personal devotion time. Sometimes jazz with a bit of whiskey on a Friday night, chilling on the couch. Oasis and Britpop on rainy days. Ambient or slow deep house while working. Frank Sinatra while shaving. Pink Floyd and Radiohead when the headphones are on. Delirious? while at the car wash when I'm in a worshipful mood. Music sees me through it all, and I cherish it.
I had to learn that not everyone sees or experiences music the way I do. I can spend hours upon hours jamming on my guitar, playing piano, or working on some crazy synthesizer sound. It's meant to much to me, and to walk into a house where it obviously meant so much to someone else too means we immediately clicked.
Our host, older than me by a few decades, was a walking encyclopedia for music. Knew all the jazz greats, the clubs where they were regulars, which radio DJs first played rock and roll, where Led Zeppelin ate breakfast.
"How about U2 and the 80's punk scene?" I asked him, eventually.
"No," he replied.
"No?"
"No, I’m not interested in them."
"Okay, Bruce Springsteen."
"After '79, no."
"You only like his earlier stuff."
"After '79, music died."
I was a little shocked. Looking around at the records, I began to notice it. It had a distinctly 70s-and-earlier flavor to it all.
"Anything '79 and before, that was real music. Then all this electronic stuff came in. All the studio gadgets and wizardry took over. Music died. None of it is real after '79."
"What about the early 90s, when it was about rock again? Just guitars, drums, bass?”
"No, it all died after '79."
I was stunned and also slightly amused. It’s well known, of course, that most adults gravitate to the music of their youth, with little patience for anything new. There's a whole science behind it. But this was extremely particular. I secretly vowed to myself I wouldn't become that guy, so far as I could help it.
Well, I hope I don’t!
By now, perhaps you've read or heard about The Velvet Sundown, the band that has in the last week moved from 300,000 monthly listeners to almost a million on Spotify, yet no one knows who they actually are. Questions first seem to have appeared on Reddit, with users wondering why this band was on their Spotify-curated playlists, where they came from, and how come there was no website or tour dates to indicate they were real people.
The answer, as things developed, was clear: they're not, and the music is A.I. generated.
Then, of course, the conversation moved to who is behind this. Is it Spotify? Are they experimenting with a business model that suits them in every way? (Imagine not having to pay those pesky artists royalties!) Is it simply opportunists? How did the group, especially its most listened-to song, Dust On The Wind, get onto so many playlists? Why did the algorithm dish it up?
On X/Twitter, Ed Newton-Rex (CEO of Fairly Trained, which is working towards ethical A.I.) keeps me up to date on A.I. and copyright law. This week he posts an article from Music Business Worldwide (MBW) in which they attempt to discover just how much A.I. music is on Spotify and the streaming platforms. The answer is “more than we probably realize”. At the end of last year, Ted Gioia revealed how Spotify appeared to be recording its own music with random artists names, and shoving it into jazz playlists. It’s not a far leap to think Spotify is doing this with A.I.
But MBW uncovered more. One popular A.I. artist, complete with one of those “THIS IS…” playlists on Spotify, is “Outlaw country” Aventhis, verified on Spotify, with over a million listeners a month. The article links to the YouTube video of his (its?) Mercy on my Grave. I go to look at the comments, surely expecting a barrage of users complaining that it is A.I.
I get anything but that.
"Amazing sound!!! His voice is perfect!" says one commenter.
And then the most highly rated comment:
"I don't know how this song appeared on my Youtube feed but I simply raise my hands to say thank you for the gift of hearing this and I know it came from one soul to another. This needs to be heard worldwide as its incredibly rare to feel lyrics. Absolutely incredible.
…
One soul to another.
That sinks in.
MBW believes the man behind this project is David Vieira, who is credited as the songwriter and producer. (My research indicates he may be based in Portugal.)
Three months ago, over on YouTube, under one of Aventhis’ videos, a commentator outright asked what role AI has played in the artist’s music.
The anonymous owner of Aventhis’ channel replied: “[The] voice and image is created with the help of AI. The lyrics are written by me.”
We don't know how much the music is too, perhaps. Over at the description of the YouTube channel, the owner calls it a "dark country" project that harnesses "the creative power of AI as part of his artistic process."
Here's the thing about Aventhis and The Velvet Sundown: it's actually pretty good. Aventhis makes you listen, whereas The Velvet Sundown (as with most A.I. generated music it seems) is designed to serve as background, "vibe" music. It’s all about creating a mood. In some sense, it’s made to be almost like a dream of a dream. The Velvet Sundown seems to achieve this with its 70s nostalgia sound, appearing (rather controversially) on Vietnam war playlists.
A band that never existed in the 70s and doesn’t really exist today appearing on playlists as if it has always existed—like a memory for some. That’s something, isn’t it?
Rolling Stone obviously gets wind of the story and this week does some digging, speaking to someone affiliated with The Velvet Sundown, a man who goes by the name of Andrew Frelon. He claims the whole thing is an intentional "art hoax." As per Rolling Stone:
“On their X account, the 'band' fervently and repeatedly denied any AI usage after multiple media outlets reported on their mysterious popularity—but pseudonymous band spokesperson and 'adjunct' member Andrew Frelon now admits, 'It's marketing. It's trolling. People before, they didn't care about what we did, and now suddenly, we're talking to Rolling Stone, so it's like, "Is that wrong?""
In a last bit of irony, on Thursday, Techradar reported that it was asked by whoever runs The Velvet Sundown to update its article because impersonator accounts of the band have sprung up, using A.I. imagery to pretend to be the band or representatives of the band. I chuckled.
Staring at the keys
I sit on my couch the night of reading MBW’s report with my small midi keyboard on my lap, just staring at it. I’ve been teaching myself piano the last couple of years, and the last few weeks I’ve been practicing daily. But tonight, I cannot motivate myself.
I wonder: will I turn into the guy who refuses to listen to music past ‘79? What’s my cut-off date? 2019?
Is this what older musicians felt when the synthesizer came along? When sampling hit mainstream? When drum machines became the norm? When the laptop turned into a mini studio all its own?
Is this the final outcome of a process of "democratization" that was actually at the heart of rock and roll from the beginning?
Is this modernity's fault? Is this the chickens the Beatles let loose finally come home to roost?
In his interview with Rolling Stone, Frelon anticipates these questions.
"I think it's important that we allow artists to experiment with new technologies and new tools, try things out, and not freak out at people just because they're using a program or not using a program."
The use of the word 'program' hints at his age. Perhaps, like me, he is a Gen Xer.
"People have this idea that you have to please everybody and you have to follow the rules. And that's not how music and culture progress. Music and culture progressed by people doing weird experiments and sometimes they work and sometimes they don't. And that's the kind of spirit that we're [embracing]."
I realize he is right.
Emily White (@emwhitenoise) on Substack appears in my Notes feed on Friday. She has some interesting predictions.
AI-generated music will be good enough for most listeners.
But for the people who care about the experience of fandom, background noise isn’t enough.
Music fans don’t need more music. We need music that matters.
She says two parallel paths are forming: “The Amazon Basics of Music”—functional, “frictionless sound”, “devoid of soul or risk, tailored to individual preferences and to facilitate a mood.” This, she says, will be good enough for many. This is The Velvet Sundown.
The other path is “Music that Matters”—”immersive, subversive, interactive art”. “Human and expressive.” "Sustenance" for humanity.
"The next great platform for music won't be a streaming service. It will be a home for music culture."
This sounds remarkably like the re-emergence of "the scene" I wrote about earlier this year. It strikes a note of hope and opportunity. Because there have always been two camps with music—those for whom it means as much as it does for me and my friend who won't listen to music made after '79, and those who always just used it as a kind-of commodity and nothing more. So, in many ways, nothing changes.
And this spells good news for writers too: magazines have always been integral to fostering music culture. Perhaps we’ll see a resurgence of the popularity of that sort of thing.
But there is one caveat. I go back to the commenter on the Aventhis video who connected with the music on the kind of "sustenance" level that White speaks of. Clearly, music means a lot to that dude, yet he has connected with A.I. music in a way that is both surprising, interesting… and worrying? Do some people genuinely care for music but not care for who is behind it?
What if what gives something soul is intention?
What if Frelon is right? What if this is just another step in music culture, and presents opportunity? This is just another way to be creative that won’t overshadow other means?
These are open questions.
Almost everything I've worked hard to become good at—writing and music—has in the last few years become intruded upon by the robots. It has felt rather invasive. Is this how the industrial revolution felt? Is it fair? Is it progress?
Or is this different?
It’s been very hard to process, because I do believe in innovation, forward movement, and opportunity. I also believe that artists deserve credit, reward, and stability.
Dust on the wind
I continue to stare at my little midi keyboard on my lap.
All the joy music has brought me. All the effort I’ve put into becoming a better musician. All the hours, the pain and the reward of getting better. All the good times with friends. The bum notes hit at the most inopportune times! The intense emotions; the magic moments of hitting the right note at the right time with the right sound. The hours of slogging over guitar tone. Modes, scales, patterns. Triads, seventh notes, add 13ths. Singing in key, on pitch. Tightening up timing. Arpeggios, power chords, octaves. Playing funky bass on keys. Cheating with jazz chords. Fingerstyle picking. Working out subtractive and FM synthesis. Operators, filters, ADSR curves. Saw waves, square, sine, and being able to pick these out by listening. Shimmer reverb, analog delay, chorus pedals. Timing an arp right, turning up the filter just so. Headphones on, understanding production techniques, learning how to listen. The dreams of one day finally recording my flipping music and actually having others listen to it, hating it or loving it or not caring about it…
Over thirty years of work, passion, joy and dreams, from 12 years old. All of this.
…is it now all turning into dust on the wind?
I disagree with the gentleman that said music died in 1979. I was a teenager in the late 70s and was very involved with all genres of music then. My favorite that came out of that was fusion jazz. I still follow Al Di Meola.
When you mention delirious, I was very encouraged. Amazing group and they led me into my relationship with Christ.
We'll still need music even if the world doesn't. Keep going ;)