``` i: Background ```

I’ve always been critical of the quality of certain lyrics. Certain songs would be ruined for me just because I didn’t agree with a lyric choice. Many solutions came to my head for each problem, they would have been so easy to fix. There was an evening I spent talking to old friends where we were listening to each other’s songs. It was during the summer after quarantine ended. My activity on my PC was at an all-time high. I was seated at my desk, horrific posture, seaweed flakes around my mouth, and an extreme amount of blue-light straight on my eyes. Being the edgy 15-year-old version of myself, I didn’t hesitate to express the many criticisms I had about what I was hearing. All my friends heard from me were my takes on what the lyrics “could have been” or what the notes “could have sounded like” to better fit my preferences. All this talk, and absolutely no evidence that I actually knew what I was talking about. Have I ever written a song before? No. Have I even tried? Not once. Does this constitute a dare where I will have to write a song to prove I can even have an opinion of value? My friends say yes. ``` “Bro it’s not like you’ve ever written a song” “Can you do better?” “How ‘bout you make a song and we’ll see where your ideas stand after that.” ``` With that, I was forced to write. But what was I supposed to write about? I understood music and emotion went hand in hand, but I didn’t have anything in specific that I thought I needed to get out. Key word: “thought”. I had nothing else to do, so I started writing words that rhyme and filled the blanks in between. A certain theme was presenting itself in these words. Everything that I had been bottling up until that moment was starting to come out. Visions and memories and thoughts regarding my resentment for my mother flooded my head, soon flooding the screen. Half an hour into my writing session, and I was already 2 pages worth of hurt into the song. My first poetic recording of how I felt meant a lot to me, but part of me knew that if I did it in Spanish, that it’d mean even more. As if it was coming from ‘who I am’ rather than who I was taught to be. At the time, my proficiency in Spanish was nowhere as developed as it is now, but verbal limitations demand alternative lines that convey the same idea. Every passing minute was another line taken from English and put into the Romance language, every thought I had was another idea to add to my paper. What started as a half-hour writing session became a mission that went until the sun was down. My eyes hurt and my brain was tired, but the second half of my song was waiting to be discovered. Choosing any random chord progression would make my words sound disingenuous. Music is another language itself, so I needed the translation from Spanish to Harmony in order for them to match. If the words are the sketch, then the notes are the paint. An artist has to discover which chords are the right colors to use when finishing the painting of a song. The melody is the paint strokes needed to get the details. I won’t say I finished the song, because a song doesn’t ever have to be finished. I can add onto it whenever I want, the song can grow as I grow as a writer. Starting off this project of mine at the same place where I play games, make jokes, talk to friends is what made me realize just how accessible this privilege is. Wherever I am, I can write. Whenever I am, I can still write. It’s become my portable friend to talk to or the emotional outlet I need for any given situation. It wasn’t until I forced myself to put passion onto paper that I realized just how enlightening this process can be. It’s as if—like in music—this tension was building up. The supertonic chord, followed by the dominant. By letting my creativity flow, my tension resolves. Back at home base, the tonic chord. I was never able to forgive my mother for her many demonstrations of unwarranted fits of rage, but my understanding of her as a person was refined as I kept writing. Writing helped me, and it never left my mind. I am always writing down notes, whether lexical or musical. I no longer “have to write” I now “get to write”. Following my realization, I began honing in on my art. I now see every opportunity to write my thoughts as an opportunity to share part of who I am. I kept on writing and I am still writing because I kept on feeling and I am still feeling. The ability to create is a privilege that everyone has. The ability to have and to record our thoughts and ideas and feelings is a gift that lots of people ignore. The ability to look into one’s own heart is a tool for growth.

``` ii: Understanding both sides ```

As AI’s part in creating music grows in popularity, so does access to the benefits of releasing music. This means that almost anybody could release music on streaming services, in competitions, or just share with people, and claim it as their own. This topic could decide the next steps in music creation for artists all over the world. Whether AI is good for the industry or not, a huge shift should be made in order for the next wave of creativity to flourish. The Leonardo Journal of the MIT Press makes interesting points about the limits that AI can push for creators when used properly. This topic is interesting to me because since AI art and music started getting attention, I wondered whether my craft’s integrity will be harmed, and asked myself the questions: Will respect for music be lost because robots will take over? Are robots actually helping musicians progress? The text “The Appocalypse of Authenticity: AI Faux Music” by authors Popean and Căpățână starts by introducing the usage of AI in the different art forms: visual arts, music, performance arts, and literature. It mentions how recent advancements in AI have made these tools more accessible to artists, leading to new possibilities in creative expression. The essay highlights just how limitless and “infinite” AI is. AI also enables the user who desires to “be better” the ability to actually be better. They can write what they are thinking without the limitations they were stuck with beforehand. The notion of “artistic Darwinism” is challenged by the fact that everyone has access to this ability now. The essay also mentions how “artist as genius,” meaning “one person producing a masterpiece” has been shifting into being more of collaborative projects. In this case, why not consider AI another collaborator? This could lead to new styles and new art forms that were never thought of before. The second text “A Shift in Artistic Practices through Artificial Intelligence” by authors Tartar and others is about how AI is being capitalized on. The “bad guy” promotes money-making decisions more than real and genuine artistic moves. An idea that is brought up is that not everyone needs to be a musician or composer, but everyone should have the opportunity to receive an education in music. It can improve your fine motor skills, self-reliance, teamwork, healthy perfectionism, problem-solving skills, coping skills, and develop your creativity as a person—all which are stripped from a person when they use AI. These things will help people realize exactly how terrible AI is for music, and help them not be fooled by the cash grab types of managers and “artists”. The little involvement that real artists have on music is now given to AI to do the heavy lifting. It’s a cheap and easy way to get royalty free music to use however you want. The lack of effort and requirement for actual skill is decreasing and negatively impacts the artist’s brain for the worse. If everything is dumbed down for an artist, there's no longer a need to use their brain for it. Both of these essays are from respected journals by musicians, are peer reviewed in UIUC’s database, and are up to date with the latest AI technology. They mention very very similar dilemmas and have differing views on the question at hand. This is made for the general public, but more urgently for all musicians to read, especially if they are thinking about using AI for their art. These two in particular spoke to me because they tackle such similar ideas with such different intentions. Both essays in each journal are looked at/ worked on by multiple university students. The first text was written by two PHD candidates in Music, while the second text was written by 9 PHD candidates mostly in the Technology field but are involved with music. Tartar and the other authors are all respectable minds in the technology world, which adds to their credibility. Popean and Căpățână are also respectable minds in the music word, which reflects the dilemma at hand—AI vs Artist. It’s worth noting that the Tartar and others’ text is more credible due to it having more authors who mostly work with technology. Their text is largely academic, they have many sources and speak without emotion, reviewing their data. They also have the privilege of having a slightly better-known journal to publish their work to. They rely heavily on Logos to prove whether they know what they’re talking about or not, but it does only that. Popean and Căpățână’s text relies on Pathos and Ethos a lot more, giving strong points on why one should be scared about the development of AI. They give the perspective of artists, they appeal to why you should despise anything that’s anti-creative while being able to prove exactly why it’s anti-creative at all. It speaks for the people who are doing the actual creation, putting the actual authenticity into their music. While Tartar and the others were objectively right about AI being able to do all these things like write, produce sound, arrange pieces, the counter-argument says that this progress is progress in the wrong direction. According to Popean and Căpățână, without the pain, the discipline, the work it takes to create the art, the music becomes basically meaningless. Create as many “songs” or pieces of music as you want, but they won’t mean anything. Humans should never be replaced in creative works because once they are, the works are no longer creative. One counter argument by Tartar and others is: AI’s skills can give creative freedoms to people who may not have the skills. This is rebutted again with the argument that there are many people who do years of training and learning in order to write music, but if people can reap the same benefits with little to no effort, there seems to be no reason to even try, thus completely removing the creative aspect of music. From both of these essays, I learned the benefits of AI and everything that was wrong with those benefits. I learned about the many nuances to each side of the argument, developing my own perspective on the matter.

``` iii (WIP): Branching out ```

AI has been and will not stop getting better. As AI systems get better and better at generating music, the need for musicians to have creativity, and authenticity disappears. Since the first AI music generator came out, I have been scared of what it can do. The speed at which the AI is improving is scary and it’s insatiable because the quality has gone up in such a short time. AI’s abilities ignore what it means to actually create music. It threatens the livelihoods of musicians, throws away the depth of artistic expression, and raises questions about originality and authenticity in the music industry. It doesn’t help that the popularity grows as fast as the complexity of the AI grows. One can expect to encounter AI music every time they open a social media app. In seconds, your small ideas can turn into full songs. The rhetorical appeals of ethos, pathos, and logos all have significant influences on the matter, but you won’t find all three in one. Ethos is shown as the opinions of very respectable artists. Many musicians and composers have spoken about their worries of being overtaken by robots that can create content in a single moment. Their audiences are sure to trust an artist they look up to. Many well-known artists have publicly criticized AI-generated music, saying that it lacks the emotional depth of true artistry. Additionally, the emotional appeal, or pathos, argues the same. The rise of AI music threatens job opportunities for hardworking artists who have dedicated their lives to honing their art. The thought of these musicians being sidelined by machines evokes a sense of loss, highlighting the potential erasure of the whole reason we do music in the first place. Finally, logos is also an important part: if AI can produce music without the need for traditional skills, it complicates an already challenging industry for human musicians striving to make a living. In looking at different views on AI music, one main idea stands out: AI is a serious threat to musicians' jobs, creativity, and authenticity. Many sources discuss the ethical issues related to AI-generated music, as highlighted by Mihăescu. The text The Impact of Generative AI in Music Composition points out that "the ethical considerations surrounding the use of artificial intelligence in music making are extremely important and real" (101 Mihăescu et al.). This supports the thought of how urgent it is to tackle the challenges that come with new technology in music. Mihăescu's analysis explains how the rise of AI tools in music production can lead to similar-sounding music and a loss of artistic variety. As AI becomes more common, we risk the loss of truth in what music you may come across at any point in time. On the other hand, some sources argue that AI provides helpful tools for less experienced creators. This view suggests that AI could make music-making easier for those without formal training. For example, beginner musicians can use AI tools to generate ideas, help with arrangements, or create backing tracks. This capability is especially important when many aspiring artists have limited access to music education. Programs like Soundraw and Amper Music let users create music easily, sparking a new wave of creativity among those who might lack the resources or skills to produce music otherwise. As Mihăescu, who we’ve heard from already states: the ability "to generate music in different musical styles or genres gives musicians a great opportunity for new artistic explorations. In this sense, by the new structures they can produce, these technologies can offer real support to composers." (101 Mihăescu et al.) However, while these tools can be useful, they also raise concerns about the authenticity of the music created and the risk of becoming too dependent on technology. The simplicity of these platforms might lead users to engage with music on a surface level, focusing more on speed and convenience rather than the deeper understanding of composition that traditional training offers. The difference between scholarly and non-scholarly views becomes clear when looking at these arguments. Scholarly discussions usually focus on the real benefits of AI, like the tools it provides to help musicians. These articles often highlight how AI can boost creativity by offering inspiration or handling simple tasks, allowing artists to concentrate on more complex ideas. For instance, AI can analyze large amounts of data to find patterns that musicians can use in their work. This is talked about by most sources, namely Mihăescu’s and Laidlow’s. However, these benefits come with important concerns. The possibility that AI-generated music might overshadow human composers raises questions about originality and authorship. If an AI creates a popular song, who’s song is it? In contrast, non-scholarly sources discuss the broader effects of these tools. They question whether AI's role in music creation is ultimately helpful or harmful, often pointing out risks like exploitation and the omission of soul in the art. This debate reflects growing concerns about using AI in creative fields. Critics say that relying on AI could lead to a world that favors profit over authenticity, replacing minds with machines. When looking at the positions, I found the view that AI threatens authenticity and creativity in music to be both the most reliable and convincing. This aligns with my understanding of music as a significant human activity. Berkowitz expresses this concern well, stating that AI "might well put second-tier composers out of jobs" (394 Berkowitz). This highlights fears about job loss in an industry already known for its instability. The idea that machine-generated music could replace human artistry raises alarms about the future of creativity in the industry. It makes us question the true purpose of music: is it just a product to consume, or is it a way to express human experiences and emotions? Music has always been a powerful tool for sharing feelings and stories. When people listen to a song, they often connect with the artist’s personal journey. If AI starts creating more music, we may lose that emotional connection, or be ‘connecting’ with something that doesn’t understand us. We should all think about how we value human creativity and whether we want our music to come from something so calculated and heartless. This debate is crucial as we move forward in a world where technology plays a bigger role in our lives. We must ensure that music remains a genuine reflection of our shared human experiences. Mihăescu's analysis focuses on the ethical issues of AI in music, especially concerning authenticity and originality. The fast-paced advancements in technology are a sign to think to ourselves about what it means to create music. Huang’s exploration of East Asian philosophies shows the need for culturally aware ethical guidelines in AI use. He states, "We thus initiate an effort to establish a framework of ethical guidelines for music AI." (301 Huang). By linking technology ethics to non-Western philosophies, Huang highlights that ideas like "human rights" and "well-being" need to be understood in specific contexts. As technology evolves, we must think about its impact on traditional values and artistic integrity. The challenge is to balance the benefits of technology with the need to preserve the human element in music. Similarly, Laidlow points out the limits of AI in replicating human creativity in classical music. He notes that while AI can compose and perform music, it lacks the soulful and nuanced understanding that human musicians bring. This emotional connection often resonates most with listeners, creating a bond that goes beyond technical skill. Music's essence lies not just in its structure or its following of music rules, but in its ability to convey feelings and experiences—qualities that AI struggles to authentically replicate. The value of live performances, improvisation, and the close connections musicians build with their audiences cannot be matched by machines who do what they’re told to 100% of the time. The philosophical implications of AI in music go beyond jobs and creativity; they also touch on what it means to be an artist. The idea of "machine folk," described by Berkowitz, suggests a new genre arising from AI-generated content, which raises questions about authorship and originality. If music is created by algorithms based on existing works, can it truly be original? Or does it simply remix elements that already exist? These questions challenge our understanding of creativity and ownership in an increasingly automated world. They make us reconsider what we value in music: is it the final product, or the process of creating it? Using AI in music composition poses real challenges we can’t overlook. As we embrace this new technology, we need to think about its effects on artists, authenticity, and the future of music. Many believe AI threatens musicians’ jobs and the creative spirit of the industry. It’s important for researchers, educators, and industry leaders to discuss AI’s role in music carefully, focusing on ethical issues. This will help protect the artistic integrity of music while navigating the complexities of automation. The future of music should celebrate human creativity, not lack of effort. Works cited: POPEAN, M.; CĂPĂȚÎNĂ, C. The Appocalypse of Authenticity: AI Faux Music. ICT in Muzical Field / Tehnologii Informatice si de Comunicatie in Domeniul Muzical, \[s. l.], v. 14, n. 2, p. 79–91, 2023. DOI 10.47809/ictmf.2023.02.08. Disponível em: . Acesso em: 2 out. 2024. TATAR, K. et al. A Shift in Artistic Practices through Artificial Intelligence. Leonardo, \[s. l.], v. 57, n. 3, p. 293–297, 2024. DOI 10.1162/leon\_a\_02523. Disponível em: . Acesso em: 2 out. 2024. Rujing Huang, et al. “De-Centering the West: East Asian Philosophies and the Ethics of Applying Artificial Intelligence to Music.” International Society for Music Information Retrieval Conference Proceedings, Jan. 2021, pp. 301–09. 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