ang:blarg

dumb thoughts, in reverse order

I guess I should start with my current views on AI-generated “art”. I think the motivations behind a lot of it are clear – to make money. Why should artists get paid to make the art I need for my project if I can just steal what they've already made, break it down along with the years of work of other artists, effectively laundering it. Then mash it all together into a paste that you can pour into a mold shaped like what you want without any of the effort. It was a rare wise decision by the American courts to deny the “artistic output” of any AI system to be uncopyrightable.

With that stated, and with some shame, I will admit that I've been having a lot of fun playing with the Udio AI-music generation website. (I feel weird calling it an app, despite the fact that there's a mobile version, but it's a website, the “app” runs on a website, I'm going to call it a website.) However, my reasons for enjoying it are most likely not what the people running it intended. I'm there to be subversive. I'm there to create mashups that would make Lucifer wince. I'm there to redefine musical cringe. I'm there to torture it into making the most amateurish, inept music imaginable. I'm there to make myself laugh.

When I visit the page, there is a section of songs which have been highlighted by staff – those songs have tens of thousands of views. Any other song? Maybe a half dozen to a dozen plays at best, and most of those are from the person who made it. Nobody is going to get famous at this. At best, it's a mechanized version of the old Song Poem scam – someone who fancies themselves a lyric writer would send their lyrics to a post-office box in Nashville, where the writer would almost certainly receive an acceptance letter, no matter how well-crafted or inept the lyrics actually were. They would be told for the sum of a certain amount of dollars, their song would be given the full “Nashville sound production”. Instead, a group of freelance session musicians would use their off-time performing on some big-name artists, to church out one-off improvisational recordings based on a stack of submitted, paid-for lyrics. They weren't always lyrics, sometimes they would be free-form poetry, occasionally gibberish. There was one case where a bored teenager, seeing the ad in a music magazine at the convenience market he worked at, realized it was a scam and set upon an idea. He would write the stupidest, most offensive lyrics he could think of, and send them in. Either he would get a rejection letter, which he could show to his friends with pride, or he would get a recording of his horrible lyrics. Either way, it was a win-win. Spoiler: He got his recording. You can find it on YouTube as “Peace and Love” by Ramsay Kearney (the session singer on the record). The song-poem industry died off a while, though, so AI will not be putting any song-poem companies out of business. In a way, I kind of hope services like Udio will help some people release the lyrical demon monkeys that have been flying around in their brains, and I'd love to bask in the insanity of the resulting 'music'.

But it will never replace the music creation process. Will there be AI music on the charts? Yeah, of course. Some people barely listen to music, they just have it on in the background. Those people won't care if it's human or AI. But they're not really music fans, per se.

I'm trying to pull myself out of the hole I've been festering in since the start of COVID lock-down in early 2020, and as my brain has been careening toward one of the most terrifying elections in my lifetime. I have barely felt human; just a meat machine, going through the motions, fighting through executive dysfunction so I don't get fired, and getting my food pellet every other Friday.

I used to not be like this. I used to be a vibrant person who laughed a lot and had an improvisational left-field sense of humor that was edgy without being cruel. I was raised from a young age with the “Great American Myth” – be kind, don't break the law, work eight hours five days a week, don't be economically foolish, be a good person, etc., and I would be successful. I never really cared about the success part; it all just seemed to make sense to me. If we didn't work together and care about each other as fellow human beings, it didn't seem we would have much of a future. Now that seems to be writ large, as fascism has made a comeback, the Lock-down made a lot of people lose their social skills, we're still doing nothing about the climate, and the concept of planning for the future just seems absurd at this point.

At the same time, it's important to seize this time that we have right now, because every day as good as it's going to get from here on. We need to find joy, in defiance of the world, if for no other reason. We need to remember our humanity, we need to be certain not to lose our empathy. We need to remember to attend to our own needs. We need to take care of ourselves. Dance, sing, write, draw, paint, enjoy nature, enjoy music, love others, and most of all, remember to love yourself.

I think letting the planet to continue to burn for the benefit of a handful of pathologically-greedy crypt-keeper oil billionaires is far more detrimental to the health of America's youth than TikTok.

This bit here is me defiling the purity of the blank page, so it's done with and the blank space can no longer intimidate me into silence. I seldom see a blank page as an opportunity to recount an experience or weave a tale or write a poem as much as an opportunity to despoil a perfectly good journal that someone could have put to much better use.

This is my place to write down all the dumb stuff that is cluttering my brain capsule. I am a silly girl who talks a lot of shit but just gets angry a lot at the greed and intentional inequality and injustice in a world which frankly terrifies the shit out of me right now.

Having been the kind of person who has spent her entire life assuring that everyone else was happy to minimize conflict and the possibility of being perceived as weird or autistic, I don't really know for sure if I know who I am anymore. My outlook on life has been incredibly bleak for the past few years, so I suppose I owe myself an opportunity to deconstruct the masks and mechanisms that I've had to put in place to function in a neurotypical world, but which have sapped me of the fun, and playfulness, and creativity, and sense of wonder I had as a child. The things which annoyed my parents and were discouraged. I want that back, or at least some of it. So I suppose this is me announcing my intention to go on a cliche journey of self-discovery (“Live, Laugh, Love!”), not just to regain some of the happiness of my childhood, but the authenticity as well.