My "Deep Fake Drake" Story
Or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love AI
In April 2023, the music world felt a ripple – though you may not have heard about it unless you spend time in circles where people worry about this sort of thing.
An anonymous producer released a song that was entirely crafted by generative AI. The vocals were “faked” to sound like Drake and The Weeknd.
It was dubbed Deep Fake Drake.
I remember listening to the song with a kind of foggy skepticism that was slowly replaced by gloom. The song was ok. I’d say I liked about as much as I like the 75% of Drake songs that seem like they were manufactured in a hit song factory. And in that vein, it was convincing.
In the fall-out, artists were worried about their voices and likenesses being used against their will, or without their knowledge. Producers and mixers were worried about their craft being displaced by algorithms that work faster and produce work of comparable quality. Hell, I was one of them and, in some ways, I sill am. Maybe you are too.
What if I’d poured 15 years into a honing a skillset that was about to become obsolete? What if I had gotten really good at fixing flip phones just as smart phones were being released?
That same week, I had a multi-day studio session with an artist I love. His name is the amazing Lorenzo Landini and he is a story-teller. His lyrics are honest, his music organic, his voice authentic and strong. I’d never met him in person before though we’d been collaborating remotely for some time. This weekend was about spending some time “in the room” untying some of the trickier creative knots the work presented.
As we got to work the richness of data that can flow between two humans sharing a physical space immediately impressed me. There are so many subtleties in human communication. A short intake of breath. A slight wrinkle of the brow. Both looking up at the same time with a spark of “that’s the one!”. These things made working a pleasure. Browsing through guitar overdubs, we hit a stride that didn’t require much verbal communication at all. Just small glances and head gestures were sufficient to convey what we were thinking.
We were shaping the marble on the same wavelength. How cool.
Lorenzo is also an amazing chef. Late in the evening he cooked up a feast for our family and we laughed, told stories and learned about each other’s pasts. It was a short weekend, and we had much to get done so after dinner we returned to the studio. As we sat in the comfortably lit studio space, papers strewn about, melted into chairs with the slouch of the weary but inspired creative, I was overcome with equanimity towards Deep Fake Drake and AI in general.
Would it make hit songs? Undoubtedly. And soon, I’d guess. I smile thinking about the fact that people set up bot farms to listen to songs as well. I like to envision this cul de sac of internet where robots are listening to songs made by other robots – amassing billions of worthless streams. Maybe transacting billions of dollars back and forth.
What would that mean?
Who cares.
Music is about human connection – conveyance of emotion and story. Catharsis through creation for the artist – or feeling understood for the listener – or understanding. Or simply being moved to move. That doesn’t mean human jobs in the music industry won’t be displaced. I’m sure they will. Less people are riding horses than 200 hundred years ago so there’s less demand for horseshoes and wagon wheels.
But music cannot be viewed in such strictly utilitarian terms because people will always want to create it – not just to consume it. And just like so many acts that are intrinsic to humanity, it will always be more satisfying done together with other humans.
It is a human endeavor – to create. To tell. To listen. There will always be space for people creating music together – even if the charts fill up with AI-generated mega-hits.