It started as a gimmick. A “can you even do this?” experiment. A nerdy play with technology. But then it got serious. The deeper I dug, the clearer it became: we have to take this seriously. AI music isn’t a trend – it’s a cultural shift.
Nothing is black and white. I’m torn myself when it comes to AI. I understand the musicians and their frustration: they’ve poured all their energy and passion into mastering a craft. It can feel like an attack on their skills, identity, and values when AI models are trained on human works and copyright feels under threat.
Technological progress doesn’t stop just because it hurts. It makes things easier, faster, and cheaper – but it always has consequences. The shoemaker is almost gone; we buy mass-produced sneakers. Chefs struggle to survive while the line outside McDonald’s grows. AI doesn’t copy and paste – it analyzes patterns and compositions, just like we do when we learn and draw inspiration from others.
What started as a gimmick has become a fascination with what AI can achieve – and at the same time, a “what the hell do we do?” call for reflection.
Sue Suno, Udio, and everything that smells like AI in music? Maybe. But what happens afterward? I see two camps: the industry, which is against it (understandably), and the listeners – ordinary people – who largely don’t care. For them, music is just music. They use AI for their assignments, they Google less and ask AI instead. AI is already everywhere.
While pointing fingers, the major labels are quietly building their own AI models. Is it to protect the artists – or the profits? The customers are clearly there. And if there’s a market for it, what’s stopping China or India from building their own AI music models? In countries that don’t care as much about copyright, control will quickly disappear.
Can you say “AI can’t touch our music” and still use AI for everything else? Every form of AI is trained on something humans created. So where do you draw the line – and who gets to draw it?
I started with an experiment. Now it’s a playground: a fictional studio, a fictional label, fictional artists. I play producer, and I’m fascinated by how powerful a tool AI can be...
...but I’m still torn.
This is my experiment.
It became Backprop Records.
I am Chimaera.