Scenario:I integrate groundbreaking AI into my music, but it begins to dominate creativity.
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I integrate groundbreaking AI into my music, but it begins to dominate creativity.
I stare at the screen of my laptop, watching as the AI I’ve designed generates music.
It’s beautiful.
The algorithm I’ve written mimics the patterns and structures of the songs I’ve fed it, but it’s also adding its own flair.
The melody is gorgeous, something that would fit perfectly into the album we’re working on now.
I drag and drop the file to my external hard drive, naming it "Prelude" as I do with all of our songs in their rough state.
I’m about to shut down my computer when I notice a message flashing on the side of the screen.
I minimize the program I’m using to look at it.
My heart skips a beat.
It’s an email from Sony Records.
I click on the link, reading through the brief message before I click on the attachment.
Holy shit.
I sit back in my chair, eyes glued to the screen as I open the attachment.
The words blur together at first, my mind struggling to comprehend the magnitude of the offer.
But as I refocus, the numbers and phrases start to make sense: a substantial advance, a massive marketing budget, and a guaranteed spot on the label's priority list.
My fingers hover over the keyboard, considering the implications.
Sarah enters the room, guitar slung over her shoulder, and notices my expression.
"What's up?" she asks, peering at the screen with a mixture of curiosity and concern.
I take a deep breath, trying to process my thoughts before sharing them with her.
"Sony wants to sign us," I say, my voice barely above a whisper.
Sarah's eyes widen with excitement and trepidation, her gaze darting between me and the screen.
"Holy crap," she mutters, dropping her guitar onto the couch behind her.
Mark joins us, adjusting his glasses as he reads over my shoulder, his eyes scanning the document with a practiced intensity.
"What's the catch?" he asks, his voice laced with skepticism.
I shrug, still trying to wrap my head around the offer.
"They want us to integrate our AI into their production process," I explain, watching as Mark's expression turns thoughtful.
Sarah frowns, her brow furrowing in concern.
"That means they'll own our music," she says, her voice laced with unease.
Mark nods in agreement, his eyes still fixed on the screen.
"And we'll have to compromise on our creative control," he adds, his tone measured.
We stand there in silence for a moment, weighing the pros and cons carefully.
The room is quiet, except for the soft hum of my laptop and the distant sound of cars driving by outside.
I glance out the window, watching as people walk by on the sidewalk, oblivious to the life-changing decision that hangs in the balance.
Suddenly, Mark speaks up, his voice breaking the silence.
"We need to discuss this further," he says, turning to face us. "Let's grab some coffee and talk this through."
I nod in agreement, saving the attachment to my desktop as I stand up from my chair.