The Luddite Manifesto

Why the Human should always feed the Machine

“It is not against the machines, but against the principle of destruction.”

— Declaration of the Nottinghams Manufacturers (1812)

The 30-Year Hiatus and the Cost of Silence

I stopped making music in 1995. I had recorded my debut track, "The Goddess of Love," but I was exhausted by the industry, confused by my own path, and overwhelmed by the fear of being truly vulnerable. So, I walked away. I put the tape in storage and spent three decades building machines—I became a software engineer.

For years, I believed I had solved the problem: I exchanged the messy, emotional risk of making art for the clean, predictable logic of code. The era of Britpop I left behind—where music was defined by cultural movements and physical media—gave way to the torrent of the digital age. The artist in me went silent, replaced by the ghost in the machine, running on clean, unemotional algorithms.

Then, last year, I found that tape.

The challenge wasn't just physical—rescuing fragile, obsolete audio from a forgotten format—it was philosophical. If I was going to return to music, I had to resolve the central conflict of my life: The Human Soul versus The Algorithm.

The Luddite Dilemma: A Philosophical Stance

I am a Luddite. Not in the historical sense of destroying technology, but in the modern sense of advocating for human craft and intention over automation and convenience.

My problem isn't the machine itself; it's the mindset that the machine creates, and the value system it imposes on art.

1. The Plastic Spoon Theory

My upcoming work, Plastic Spoons, addresses this directly. The Plastic Spoon symbolizes the low-value, disposable, endless content we are fed by algorithms. The goal of the major tech platforms (the "Unicorns") is to maximize volume and engagement, turning genuine human emotion—joy, outrage, vulnerability—into mere data points for profit, or what the algorithms deem 'engagement fuel.'

We are consuming these plastic spoons: cheap, abundant, and utterly lacking in substance. The reward structure of the platform incentivizes the superficial hook and the immediate payoff, leading to a flattening of emotional expression and a diminished attention span from the listener. I refuse to make plastic spoon music. My goal is to create music that, like the original 1995 recording, has weight, intent, and lasting value, even if it is imperfect and takes time to fully absorb.

2. Craft Over Convenience

The 1995 recording process was deliberate, unforgiving, and finite. Tape cost money, creating a psychological pressure that demanded commitment and focus from the musician. Every instrument part, every vocal take, every mix decision was final, requiring full, focused human attention. This necessity fostered a specific kind of artistic integrity.

Today, digital freedom is infinite, offering the 'undo' button as a crutch. This leads to endless revisions and, often, a crippling loss of the original human spark, where decisions are deferred rather than committed to. The Luddite approach prioritizes the scarcity and commitment of analogue creation, demanding authenticity in the moment, not complacency in the endless revision loop.

3. AI as an Enabler, Not a Replacement

As an engineer, I embrace technology, but I set strict boundaries. AI is not inherently evil; it is a tool that can enrich life and solve impossible problems. For example, AI-powered tools are incredible for people who, due to physical disability, cannot play an instrument—it grants them creative freedom. This is AI used for good.

My issue is with the relinquishing of creative control.

• AI for Utility and Development: I have no objection to using AI tools that enhance workflow, such as Logic's session players for realistic drum tracks or using software to add saturation or EQ in a master, provided the creative intention remains mine. I use these tools as sophisticated session musicians or powerful mixing assistants—they accelerate the process, but I am the conductor.

• AI for Forensic Restoration: I used AI stem separation as a forensic audio scalpel to retrieve the lost signal from the degraded tape. This was technical surgery to preserve a human performance.

• The Final Human Decision: The final sound, the EQ decisions, the compression, the punch—all critical elements of the mix that define the song's emotional landscape—must be confirmed by human ears. AI can suggest, but I decide.

• The Intent is Everything: The moment the machine dictates the melody, the BPM, or the lyrical topic—based on algorithmic trends—the soul is gone. My music must always start with my story, my pain, and my voice.

The Final Irony: Feeding the Unicorn

There is a profound, unavoidable irony at the heart of the Luddite project: to get my message of human craft heard, I must use the exact platforms I am criticizing. To advocate for the soul of music, I must feed the algorithm.

I write articles criticizing the "Unicorns" (the tech giants), yet I rely on Meta Ads to drive traffic to that very critique. I decry the "Plastic Spoon" content, yet I must submit my song to the biggest playlist gatekeepers (Spotify/SubmitHub) to gain traction. This is the necessary evil of the modern creative: The only channel available for mass dissemination is the one controlled by the beast I am fighting.

My choice is not to fight the beast with blunt force, but with a Trojan Horse. The music—the authentic, human-made, carefully crafted signal—is the Trojan Horse. I use the platform's tools (the ads, the pixels, the smart links) as efficient plumbing, not as artistic guides. This strategy allows me to bypass the generalized algorithmic noise and deliver the human story directly to other disillusioned people who feel the same way. The goal is to convert passive consumers of content into an active, intentional fanbase of Luddites, effectively building a sanctuary for human connection within the machine's walls. This is how the human soul fights back.

Ludup's Personal Luddite Manifesto

This is my pledge to you, the listener, and the foundation of all future work:

Principle	Belief	Application in My Music
Intentional Control	The human decision is paramount. I utilize AI tools for utility and speed, but I remain the final, authoritative creative source.	I use session players and mastering tools to assist the process, but the song structure, lyrics, melody and final mix decisions are always mine.
Value Over Volume	My focus is on making one song that matters, not ten songs that blend in.	Releases will be spaced out, ensuring each track (like Plastic Spoons or Rise) has the thematic weight it deserves.
Authenticity is Key	I will embrace the imperfections of the original 1995 performance and recording.	The music will retain the genuine, analogue texture and energy of its era, rather than being polished into modern sonic sterility.
The Voice Must Lead	I am the engineer, but I am an artist first.	My music is a vehicle for my personal story and my critique of the world, never just a hook designed to catch the algorithm.

My return is not just about making music again; it is a stand against the disposable nature of the digital age. I am here to build a fanbase of people who value the same things: craft, honesty, and soul.

Thank you for being part of the journey.

Listen to the 30-year debut, "The Goddess of Love," and hear the human craft for yourself.