While AI overlords may one day rule an apocalyptic society, for now, humans are still the ones pushing the buttons on the platforms that are transforming nearly every industry. Consequently, we’re still responsible for the direction AI takes, as well as the future it shapes for business, culture, and creativity.
That responsibility weighs especially heavily in music, where AI is catalyzing the rise of the tech-creative: a new kind of entrepreneur who blends artistry and algorithms. This next-generation creator leverages AI not just to ideate but to execute, distribute, and even emotionally calibrate content. Already, AI is auditioning for every role: composer, collaborator, performer, and tastemaker. And it’s getting the part.
As a musician, I both admire and resent that power. It’s not just inevitable, it’s encroaching. AI will soon write better melodies, sharper lyrics, and, tragically, vocals that feel more human than I do.
The debate over whether AI should have a place in the creative process is over. The answer is a resounding “yes.”
However, the one real question that remains is: Will humans still matter in an AI-dominated music industry? The answer to that will depend, in part, on the choices made by emerging tech-creatives.
Here are three that matter most:
Will increasing efficiency decrease artistic impact?
AI eliminates ego. It doesn’t need to talk things out, doesn’t require validation, and doesn’t nurse a bruised creative process. Instead, it simply analyzes, makes a decision, and moves forward. The result is unparalleled efficiency.
In most industries, that would be chalked up to a massive win. But in music, friction isn’t failure — it’s fuel. Art needs tension like our lungs need oxygen. Even outside creative circles, there’s a broad consensus that constraint and conflict sharpen vision.
AI solves problems related to processes, but in doing so, it risks dissolving the conversations, debates, and existential struggles that refine art into something transcendent. Throughout the entirety of recorded human history, some of the greatest works of art emerged not from harmony but from resistance.
That’s why I worry — as should any serious tech-creative — that the very inefficiencies AI erases are the ones that make art human. Sure, AI will enable us to make more music, faster and cheaper, but at the end of the day, will it help us create better art? If tension is the price of brilliance, the answer is: not even close.
Do we want an algorithm to replace an artist?
Algorithms are as intuitive as they are inherently manipulative. They burrow into our preferences, extract patterns, and serve them back to us with eerie accuracy. If you spend enough time scrolling through cat videos on social media, you’ll suddenly find that the algorithm likely knows you better than your mother.
When we apply that same power to the music industry, we see that a new kind of entrepreneur emerges — one who builds audio systems that scratch every psychological itch. AI can now analyze your mood, heart rate, listening history, and location, and respond with custom compositions. With the capabilities AI algorithms can apply to music, it’s not far-fetched to say that we may also be close to seeing emotionally responsive soundtracks for everyday life.
The risk, however, is that the artist gets sidelined as a result of this evolution. The entrepreneur becomes a systems operator, the listener becomes the composer, and music becomes a mirror, rather than a message.
The deeper concern is philosophical: Do we still need artists to challenge us, or are we content being comforted by ourselves?
When listeners dictate inputs and algorithms optimize outputs, we exile the artist-as-prophet. Gone are the cultural critiques, the subversions, the visions of what could be. In their place: an endless loop of what already is.
That’s not music; that’s model collapse. Even Sly Stone knew that an algorithm can’t take you higher.
Can you have efficiency and artistry, too?
Here’s where I land: Artistry and efficiency exist on opposing axes. One is about output, and the other is about input.
The modern tech-creative now faces a choice. Lean into AI and build a scalable, responsive content engine. You’ll win attention, make money, and give people what they think they want.
Or take the harder path. The slower path. The one riddled with misfires, revisions, and real human sweat. That’s the path of the artist. It’s less efficient, but it might also be the only thing keeping culture alive.
Art — created by humans, not harvested by machines — has shaped ideologies, sparked revolutions, and exposed truths we didn’t know we needed. If we’re at another cultural inflection point (and I believe we are), we’d be foolish to automate our way out of it.
To the tech-creatives shaping this future: You’re not just writing code. You’re writing culture. Just be sure you’re not automating us all into irrelevance.
