And then there’s Jeff Buckley singing Lana Del Rey, which turns out to be oddly compelling. diss himself by taking over the vocals of Tupac Shakur’s “Hit Em’ Up,” or the aesthetic crime of forcing Kurt Cobain to sing songs by Seether. The unauthorized nature of the tech inevitably led users toward musical blasphemy, whether it was making the Notorious B.I.G. IT DIDN’T TAKE long for the amateur producers playing with voice-cloning to stumble upon one of its most enticing, if unnerving, uses: the resurrection of the dead. “But for musicians, for creation, I don’t see what is interesting here.” “It’s fun to make a song and to transfer your voice into Eminem’s timbre,” Carré says. Some see a world of possibilities and concern in voice-cloning technology alone, but Carré and Paçhet aren’t so sure. But versions of the same track-isolating technology have been around for years - Serato features a version of it with its latest DJ software, apps like Moises offer it, Giles Martin used it on his Revolver remix last year - and it’s miles away from generative AI.
#Beatles magic software#
Meanwhile, “AI” has become an all-purpose, oft-confusing buzzword in music: When Paul McCartney announced in June that a final, “Free As A Bird”-style Beatles song was coming, using neural-net-powered software developed by Peter Jackson’s WETA to isolate John Lennon’s voice from a demo, countless news outlets ran controversy-stirring headlines about an “AI” song from the band. MusicLM generates audio files of instrumental musical snippets from written descriptions, like music criticism in reverse, or a baby version of the fictional song-generating tool people imagined in the hands of Ghostwriter977. Even the May release to beta testers of MusicLM, a shockingly sophisticated, though still rickety, tool by Google, went largely unnoticed. Since then, the music industry’s AI conversation has been almost entirely focused on voice-cloning, overshadowing, for now, the considerable threat and promise of other forms of machine-made music. The song became a track on the first-ever AI-composed album, 2018’s Hello World (credited to Skygge), which received respectful press, but didn’t make it past the arty fringes of pop culture.ĭrake Tour Opens With 'Look What You’ve Done,' Teases New Album That sequence of notes became the core of a genuinely odd, novel, haunting song, “Ballad of the Shadow,” and Carré decided the Flow Machines AI had fused with him into a new artist - a composite he named Skygge. As it started generating new compositions based on that input, one short melody transfixed Carré, staying in his head for days. And that means that I need to lose control at some point.” Shortly after he finished work on “Daddy’s Car,” Carré sat in the lab one day and fed the sheet music for 470 different jazz standards into artificial-intelligence software called Flow Machines. “I’ve always searched for that kind of surprise in my work, too. “I’ve always been interested in music with unexpected chord changes, unexpected melodies,” Carré says. But Carré was looking for something deeper, something new. The duo’s first released project was the mostly AI-composed Beatles pastiche “Daddy’s Car,” which ended up making worldwide headlines in 2016 as a technological milestone. Paçhet was developing some of the world’s most advanced AI-music composition tools, and wanted to put them to use. In 2015, Carré, a cerebral, bespectacled songwriter then in his mid-forties, became the artist-in-residence at Sony’s Paris-based Computer Science Laboratory, headed by his friend Francois Paçhet, a composer and leading artificial-intelligence researcher. For Benoit Carré, the future revealed itself in six notes.
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