Hey you,
I can't tell you how surprised I was when I saw those messages you left for me. In fact, I went through a range of emotions in the frame of about ten seconds, which is normal-bad for me, but apparently it's about you and not me, so I guess I understand. My therapist is going to hate you, though.
Not gonna lie, when I first saw that the messages were from, what, almost a week ago, there was a little flop in my belly and a weird tremor-like sensation all over my face -- especially when I saw the words, "if i see 'read' next to my messages, i'll be excited". And then shortly afterward, "but also nervous".
So, now that shitshow of emotions is almost over (throwing like three months of therapy out the window, thanks) and I've had time to realize that you were probably drunk when you sent me those messages, I have a few things to say that you won't respond to because you didn't mean to message me in the first place.
First of all, you don't need to apologize for anything. I forgave you earlier this year, and was about ready to completely forget everything until you decided you needed to say sorry (for whatever it was you were saying sorry for, since you didn't specify). I don't know if you knew this but my forgiveness doesn't depend on your apology -- it never has, and I didn't expect one from you, because it was clear last year that you didn't think you did anything to wrong me.
I don't know what response you were expecting from me when you tried to contact me -- perhaps you were hoping to find that I'd been waiting the past eleven months or so for your name to grace my screen. I won't deny that at first, I did wonder if you would eventually offer me some explanation. I can admit that not terribly long after I discovered that I was the other woman, I did get up on a stage to perform a haunting rendition of Journey's 'Lovin, Touchin, Squeezin'. I know you know that the crowd was thrilled, because you know my voice. Let me tell you, it was cathartic. I may have even dedicated the song to you before or after, but I don't quite remember because I was probably five breakfast shots in by then. What I'm trying to say is that I went through the grieving process. I was good. I've had a couple lovers since then, and have a new certain someone currently. I told him about this. I won't tell you what he said. He's absolutely less forgiving than I am. I don't harbor those same hostile feelings though, it takes up too much of my precious energy.
Personally I think you should be grateful for your family and quit worrying about me. I'm actually a little insulted that you think I need something from you. My writing is stronger, my heart is free, my spirit is strong, and I'm finding myself constantly -- and you did not play witness to any of it. I'm not trying to place blame or make you feel guilty, I'm just stating a fact.
But don't think that I'm angry, because I'm not. I'm actually experiencing this comforting feeling of numbness that might end up being shock, but for now it's going to get me through the week, and honestly, this whole experience will likely inspire a few pieces of writing (including this one) about forgiveness and moving on. So, thank you for that. I was worried that, if this happened, I would immediately fall into a downward spiral of excessive drinking and desperation. That didn't happen, and I have to say that I'm extremely relieved, and even glad that you were the one to make the first move. Look at you.
In regards to your nervousness, I understand where it was coming from, but I think it was unnecessary to inform me of it. What am I going to do? Chew you out? Make you feel bad with my sadness? Hunt you down, show up on your doorstep, upset your wife? Not give a damn one way or another? Is that what had you so nervous? would you have preferred it if I had never signed back on? Apparently, I failed to deliver. Oops.
I'll understand if you never respond, but now that I've said my peace, I think it's fair to say that you'll be in for something of a surprise if you ever try to message me again. I haven't been the girl you used to know for a while now, I've been busy enjoying being the woman I've become without you.
Love always,
Adriana
The Illusion of Creativity
AI-generated music is often marketed as “artistic” or “educational.” But what does it really teach?
- That style can be replicated without understanding.
- That emotion can be simulated without feeling.
- That effort can be bypassed with a prompt.
For young creators, this sets a dangerous precedent. Why learn to play guitar when an algorithm can do it faster? Why study harmony when AI can generate chord progressions in seconds? The risk isn’t just laziness — it’s the loss of depth, discipline, and the tactile joy of creation.
I have listened to several AI-generated music covers. My initial reaction was one of considerable impressiveness, particularly regarding the reimagining of classic pop hits in diverse genres with novel arrangements. Here is one good example a-ha — Take On Me
However, after engaging with several such Ai generated song covers, a sense of emotional detachment emerged, attributable to the perceived absence of human artistry and genuine sentiment, resulting in a technically flawless yet ultimately soulless auditory experience.
Copyright in Crisis
What does the copyright law say about AI generated music, especially in field of music covers. Who is liable for copyright in this case, AI developers, people who used AI to generate music or people who published it on music platforms?
Recent lawsuits show that the music industry is pushing back hard:
- Universal, Sony, and Warner sued AI music platforms Suno and Udio in 2024 for allegedly training their models on copyrighted songs without permission Ars Technica The Lyon Firm.
- They’re seeking up to $150,000 per infringed song, arguing that the AI outputs resemble famous tracks and voices (e.g., Mariah Carey, Michael Jackson).
- These lawsuits target the developers of the AI tools — but they raise broader questions:The legal gray area is training data. Courts haven’t yet ruled definitively on whether using copyrighted songs to train AI counts as infringement or fair use Sites at USC.
But who’s liable?
Role | Legal Risk | Why |
AI Developers | ✅ High | For training on copyrighted material without licenses. |
Users | ⚠️ Moderate | If they intentionally recreate protected works. |
Publishers/Platforms | ✅ High | For distributing infringing content. |
The grey area lies in training data. Courts haven’t yet ruled definitively on whether using copyrighted songs to train AI counts as infringement or fair use. Meanwhile, AI-generated works themselves aren’t eligible for copyright unless a human provides substantial creative input — leaving them in legal limbo.
The Educational Mirage
Some argue that AI music helps people learn genres, production styles, or vocal techniques. But this “education” often lacks context. It’s like learning to paint by watching a printer — technically impressive, but creatively hollow.
True musical education involves:
- Struggle and iteration: Learning through mistakes.
- Emotional connection: Expressing what words can’t.
- Cultural lineage: Understanding the roots of sound.
AI shortcuts bypass all of this. And in doing so, they risk flattening the rich terrain of human creativity into a sterile landscape of algorithmic mimicry.
Why This Fight Matters
This isn’t just about music. It’s about the future of art, storytelling, and human expression. If we allow machines to dominate creative spaces, we risk turning culture into content — optimized, monetized, and devoid of soul.
We must ask: Do we want a world where art is made by machines, or one where machines help humans make better art?
5 Key Takeaways
- AI-generated music blurs the line between innovation and erosion in the creative arts
- AI-generated music raises questions about copyright, culture, education, and artistic expression
- AI-generated music can replicate style without understanding, simulate emotion without feeling, and bypass effort with a prompt
- AI-generated music sets a dangerous precedent for young creators by potentially leading to a loss of depth, discipline, and joy of creation
