The Ghost in the Machine
"Technology is nothing. What's important is that you have a faith in people, that they're basically good and smart, and if you give them tools, they'll do wonderful things with them."
— Steve Jobs
An Enabler, Not a Replacement: An Artist's View on AI
I faced a modern paradox when I decided to release "The Goddess of Love"—a song I recorded on analogue tape 30 years ago. The song is an authentic 1995 time capsule, but how could I promote it today without looking like a man out of time? The answer, ironically, was to use the most futuristic tool available: Artificial Intelligence.
This decision wasn't just a gimmick. As a software engineer and a musician, I find myself at the centre of the debate. I'm excited by AI's technical possibilities but instinctively protective of the human-led creative spark.
So, I set out to use AI for this project, but with one clear set of rules. For me, AI is an enabler, not a replacement. It's a tool that, used correctly, allowed me to follow this dream finally.
The Problem: Creating a 1995 Video Today
I didn't want the music video for a song I wrote at 22 to star my 52-year-old self. It would break the spell. The song is authentic to 1995, so the video needed to be, too. Five years ago, my options would have been to hire (and pay) young actors or use stock footage. But today, I have AI.
My process wasn't a single-click "make me a video." It was a painstaking, human-directed collaboration. I used HeyGen to create an avatar of my younger self, feeding it specific, high-quality promo shots from 1995. I used Gemini to fix the AI's mistakes—in one photo, my hand was behind my head, so I used AI to generate my classic 90s "curtains" hairstyle. I animated original studio photos with Artlist.io and even had Gemini create scenes of me playing bass, as no pictures existed. Finally, I had InVideo create a cartoon video for the song, and I personally edited the best parts into the final cut.
I was in complete creative control, but the AI was my tireless digital assistant. It wasn't perfect, either. When I uploaded my vocal stems for lip-syncing, the AI misinterpreted the lyric "You're what I need" and lip-synced "You're what I mean." When you see it, your brain hears "mean," not "need." It's a fascinating bug, and a perfect example of why a human creator is still essential.
The Test: The Calculator vs. The Creator
This leads me to my core philosophy on AI. I have no problem using it as a creative tool, just as I have no problem using a calculator for math. As long as humans are in charge of the creative process, AI is an incredibly powerful instrument.
When I'm deciding whether to use AI, I ask myself one simple question:
"Could this project have existed without my creative input?"
If the answer is yes, I've gone too far.
I'm fine with AI "session players" in Logic Pro. I could program those drums myself, but AI gets me there faster. But I have no interest in asking an AI to "write a song from this prompt" and taking the credit. That's just lazy.
I've rewritten "The Goddess of Love" into a new song called "This Crazy Love of Mine." It took me nearly 30 years to get those lyrics and that chorus right. AI could have done it in 30 seconds, but it wouldn't have been me. It wouldn't have had my life experience baked into it. I might bounce an idea off an AI, but never take its output verbatim. I use it to fuel my own creativity, not replace it.
The Future: Holograms, Not Replacements
As a software engineer, I'm excited. AI will make bootstrapping a company easier; the CEO can be the workforce, with a team of AI employees handling sales, marketing, and support. But as a musician, I'm concerned that true creativity will lose out to content.
But I also see an incredible future. I recently saw ABBA Voyage, and it was terrific. That's the true potential of AI. It's not about having an AI "George Michael" model sing a Johnny Cash song. It's about experiential art.
I would love to stand on stage and sing a duet with a holographic George Michael. I have this grand idea for a tour where a holographic version of my younger self sings the '90s songs, and I sing the new material as I am now. AI can make that dream a reality. It can resurrect, collaborate, and create experiences that were previously impossible.
The Definition of Art
Ultimately, listeners are not fooled by lazy, purely AI-generated music. People invest in performers, personalities, and stories. We want to adore our superstars. If there is no personality behind the music, it won't last. It'll be exposed. Remember Milli Vanilli?
AI in music videos? That's just a new paintbrush. AI in songwriting? That's a line that we must walk with care. For me, the output must be mine. It must be something that could not have existed without my specific life, ideas, and spark.
That's the definition of art. And no machine, no matter how intelligent, can fake that.
Take this very article. An AI wrote it. But it couldn't have been written without a full, detailed interview where I provided all the thoughts, opinions, and lived experiences. The AI was the tool that organised the words, but the input—the soul—was entirely mine. In fact, I probably wrote just as many words in my answers as you're reading now. That's the collaboration I believe in.
