You've Been Told About AI Music Creation, Right?

Oy! AI

That’s about all we hear about lately in the music world. AI is taking over the popular music charts. AI music sucks. AI music isn't real. AI music is SATAN! 
YouTube music professor, interviewer, and general nice guy Rick Beato slams AI music with regularity, albeit with genuine astonishment. 

 

Thing is, what are music consumers demanding lately? Are they demanding at all? This is another column altogether. With the perpetual tsunami of content flooding, er, drowning the earth with less than professional, largely unoriginal, but terrific-sounding productions, any traditional recordings face an Everest climb. Even then, there are no guarantees. Music creation has become a homogenized, packaged product for the masses. Anyone can make it now, including the band video. This is no exaggeration. The tools are quite astounding and increasingly robust, but there’s a catch.

I need to hit rewind for a moment. I’ve been away from music – drumming – for too many years. Always on the distant backburner. That’s another story. The most painful part was saying no to dear friends when they needed me. Can't begin to tell you how much that hurt. Let's skip that for now. I’ll get to the latest part where some old mates invited me for some jams after learning I'd been woodshedding for a possible reentry next year. Performance anxieties at play. Pad practice, drum kit practice. Could I manage a song without passing out? Two songs? Five? A full 10-song set? Yes to all … in time. That’s where I was: VERY rusty and lacking some facility. It would take months, but I was up for it. Then the phone rang.

“Hey, what’s your drumming situation right now? Feel like playing a little with us?”

Perhaps a tad premature, but I decided to push myself and give it a go. It was the best time I’ve had in years. It was heart-pounding work; something I’ve not experienced since the last show I played in 2013. Damn it was worth it, though – not just because I got to see my pals, but because I got to play with people, and that was pure gold.

Shortly into that jam, my friends played some of their originals stored online. Some of these were on YouTube, others held on the creation platform Suno.com. Some country – serious and comedy – some Americana rock. Much of it was produced through Suno. Original lyrics and melodies, except musically manufactured by the platform. The material had that highly-polished Nashville sound. Truly astounding. The more relevant content discussed before arrival was presented later. This would be a hard rock project for pro-level tracking later, so the AI productions, as great as those sounded, are actually guide demos. I kept thinking, why not release them as-is? Why bother with the whole expensive process? Yeah, I know.
AI. Not real. No street cred. Can't tour a silicon chip. Okay, soon maybe!

Hang on, I’m getting to the point.

Fast forward a couple weeks, I’m home one evening with a curious moment regarding Suno. After all, I’ve tons of song ideas and lyrics. Putting all of that together for eventual tracking would be a costly, time-consuming endeavor. Suno and other AI music apps seem to be the answer for creating marketable demos. Easier to Tom Sawyer other players and maybe a producer with a slick demo, right? Problem is, my curiosity also included intellectual property rights should one of those songs ever (ha!) hit. 

Oops! 
Yeah, that’s the catch with these things.

Not sure if my friends know, care to know, or care at all. Why? 
Once they hit Accept on the Terms of Service agreements, they forfeited an irrevocable, permanent license to Suno for performance, modification, licensing to 3rd parties (total wild west), not being copyrighted, and other legal giveaways  like binding arbitration. Sure, the original user-creators retain ownership, distribution, and monetization rights on paid plans, but the global license they agreed to is a major problem for any future publishing and/or management deals with major players.

Okay, but they’re just demos to be pro recorded later. Suno won’t a have license to those sound recordings. Correct, but they do retain license to the lyrics and original melody – the stuff you submitted. This remains even if you delete the songs from the app. What goes on the internet …

Suffice to add, there’s a novelette's worth of legal language you agreed to, and their creation catnip – the euphoric delight of hearing your idea in epic perfection – might be a catastrophic mistake for anyone with professional commercial aspirations.

Some might counter with, "Whatever, it’s worth the gamble. Chances are nothing will come of the deleted material or Suno anyway. If it does, I’ll cross that bridge later. How bad could it be? Besides, I wouldn’t have gotten this far without it."

That’s a fair take. Risk vs Reward. And doesn’t it sound marvelous?

Is it the smart play? Hardly (and I say this with a pinky outstretched).

If it’s the only play, I say roll them bones. 
Dealing with a major success is a good problem to have.

EPILOGUE 11.11.2026

My 10 year old granddaughter (I just realized how much this dates me!) loves to sing. She spends a lot of her free time fiddling with several apps on an iPad creating "her music". Before anyone says it, YES, she knows the difference, having attended live shows and watching nonstop live concerts on YouTube. She understands what's real and what's AI. 
It doesn't matter to her. 

While I find this mildly disappointing, it's of course the product of her environment, exposure, and moreover, convenience. I attempted to introduce her to Suno (she wasn't aware of it), and even that was too complicated. Her music must be instant and easy, but sound great. Original? That's the illusion these apps are selling.

Millions of these kids are the new music consumers. Some will get the real, many won't or could care less. Quite depressing until you click on another million YouTube videos of child prodigies on every instrument, entire live ensembles of  hardcore jazzers, orchestras, metal, pop, country –  all just absolutely killing it. In the end, curiosity, practice addiction, and true skills appreciation just might have a fighting chance. I hope my granddaughter becomes one of  these people.

She just now sat down behind a drum kit for the first time. She didn't want to leave.
Hope!

The Passing Zone

 

Everyone processes grief in a different manner. Only the inner circle knows what goes on behind the scenes. Since you see the photos of Frank Beard and Neil Peart, you probably know where this is going. I merely wish to make a short point.

Geddy and Alex took years off, fully believing their good friend and critical cog’s death meant the end of Rush. It took five years from their last show to his final breath. Five more for them to come around to the idea that Rush could even contemplate playing again. Everyone is happy now that Anika Nilles has measured up to the performance task. Nobody’s questioning their grieving period, and Neil didn’t die during a tour.

Quite a contrast to ZZ Top, however. Bassist Dusty Hill passed a few years ago and was quickly replaced by their long-time guitar tech, Elwood Francis. The band moved on without much ado. Founding drummer Frank Beard died a couple of days ago. Billy Gibbons posted his message of condolence and informed the world that the band would continue its tour barely a few days after his passing.

His message seemed insensitive and off-putting on first take, but I am reminded that these large tours involve scores of support personnel — roadies, mixers, instrument techs, lighting techs, drivers, personal assistants. Suffice to mention event venue staff. Oh, right, let’s not forget about the ticket holders! It’s a mountain of responsibility and potential loss in pulling the plug. If you followed the fallout over Geddy Lee's brief illness that postponed their tour for two weeks, you know Rush was lucky in this respect.

To the internet flamethrowers out there, I’d reconsider Billy and ZZ’s management for not hitting the brakes. My guess is Frank saw it coming, told his mates to keep going, and kept his replacement handy.

The show ….  

 

UPDATE: After drafting this, indeed, it was Beard’s wish for the band to continue. 

Every Case You Take

Couldn't let the pun go, could you, Todd?
Guilty.

https://www.thesun.co.uk/tvandshowbiz/36421649/sting-sued-royalties-ex-bandmates-the-police/

The Sun reports that Sting and his management are being sued by Andy Summers and Stewart Copeland for unpaid royalties they feel entitled as part creators of a hit Police song.
— who moos the reevaluation of long-existing hits and artist roles. 
Lawyers … insert stereotype.

There are innumerable online exposés on how artists' (solo or band) royalty roles and their business management are assigned. I’ll be as brief as possible here. Basically, it’s divided into two copyrighting categories: Compositional and Recording.

Compositional

-        Author, meaning Music Artist(s):

o   Writer(s) of the music composition of a song or piece of music. Entered as a percentage.

o   Lyricist(s) of a song, entered as a percentage.

o   X Part? Presumably also entered as a percentage, but not on the form.

-        Publisher: The person or legal entity that manages the Artist’s musical compositions for monetary and legal purposes. An authorized publisher licenses their works for performance and/or recording.

-        Performing Rights Organization (PRO): ASCAP, BMI-type entities that curate artists’ published catalogs, advocate and police royalty collections, and distribute performance royalties to corresponding artists.

Recording

-        Author, meaning Music Artist(s):

o   Writer(s) of the music composition of a song or piece of music.

o   Lyricist(s) of a song.

o   X Part … again.

-        Label:

o   Owner of the recorded material and its recording Master Rights.

o   Controls and licenses distribution and performance of the recording(s).

-        PRO: SoundExchange-type platform that functions similarly to ASCAP or BMI, focused on digital performance royalty collection and distribution.

Ah, the X Part … and not necessarily a “writer” in the traditional sense.

It’s the definition of the creative roles that often confuses legal laymen, and this is why the general advice is to consult a lawyer. Sage? The potential problem here is the fallacy of authority. Not every lawyer will properly define roles, let alone ask deeper questions that might lead to subjective role entry. Absent a solid case precedent, most revert to their scripted advice, rote practiced, safe, and that’s that. Pay me. Next!
This Police matter then becomes an interesting case study.

The song in question is Every Breath You Take. Major pop hit. Heard everywhere. Millions of records sold. Performance royalties out the yang. Sting reportedly reaps over $700K every year on it — one song! You see the motive, now consider this: If the other two thirds of The Police are successful in renegotiating, settling, or winning at trial, you think it’ll stop with EBYT?

Who wrote the song, anyway? Wait, loaded question there. I mean, who wrote the music, who wrote the lyrics, and what is the current legal definition of “music” for royalty purposes?

When you listen to EBYT, what are the contributing factors that comprise this musical work? Sting’s lyrics? The melody? Side Note: I love that he penned it on Ian Fleming’s writing desk at GoldenEye in Jamaica. Could go on ... 
There’s no argument that Mr. Sumner wrote the lyrics. The debate centers on the music itself.

Sting came up with the basic melody, but it wasn’t until Andy Summers inserted a catchy guitar phrase — he says inspired by Béla Bartók’s works — that the song became alive as a mega hit. And what about Stewart Copeland’s drumming? Who else sounds like him? Maybe bias on my part, but a signatory drum part not being considered as part of “the music” is blasphemous. Andy's guitars, Stewart's drumming, Sting's bass and of course, his unique voice, equate the sound — the X Part that constitutes The Police. 

When a drummer performs and sounds no differently than a generic drum machine, the case for a separate royalty is weak at best. But Stewart? Please. Rush without Neil would be another fine example. Zeppelin without Bonham, Genesis without Phil …. 

At some point, a drummer, bassist, keyboardist, horn player, or other instrumentalist that conjures their own part and sound must be included in the compositional credits. Perhaps the engineers and producers as well in certain cases. Hugh Padgham would be my first example there.

For now, it’s subjective and optional, traditionally driven by greed and/or ignorance. Session players are ultimately paid for their performance, not their selected creativity, sound, or personal inflection. Too many band members acquiesce to the role of session performer on recordings simply out of ignorance or peacemaking. Oh well.

Sting and his management apparently feel confident that he alone is responsible for Every Breath. Easy to rail against this evil without detailed insight, I'm afraid. On the surface (or “prima facie” in legal parlance) Andy and Stewart might have a strong case, or at least a very good reason to finally bring due credit to light.

Or is it Bring on the Night?

Sorry.

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2/1/2026 UPDATE: Sting coughs up £600,000 for his mates — so far.