Can Real Artists Beat the Infiltration of AI 

Artificial intelligence is everywhere, moving faster than most of us can keep up with. It’s changing how we work, how we search for information,  even how we approach creativity. Today AI can go as far as even generating a full song—vocals, melody, mastering—a full on production and it’s being done at a speed that wildly no human can come close to matching. The innovation it provides has been tempting for many industries even outside of music. 

For me, I’d be lying if I said the use of AI hasn’t made its way across my fingertips. When I’m taking on a busy work day it helps operationally. Organizing my ideas. Managing projects, maybe even exploring design concepts I might have never thought of brainstorming on my own. But music feels different. Growing up playing instruments and being schooled on how all the music greats such as the late Quincy Jones would have a studio filled with all sorts of strings and horns to make classics like Don’t Stop ‘til You Get Enough, this type of art feels more involved. It comes from the human body. A human heart. And art, as we’ve known it, could never be coded or replicated.

Gayle King recently sat down with Telisha “Nikki” Jones, the creator behind the viral AI singer Xania Monet and her track “How Was I Supposed to Know.” The song climbed multiple Billboard charts, as well as inking her a $3 Million record deal, and yet King said it bluntly in the interview: “But you can’t sing.” Jones calls herself a poet, not a performer. She feeds her words into a machine that sings them for her. The tracks she makes are viral and clever. But it’s not real. And I think that’s exactly the point.

True music aficionados can listen closely to any song generated by AI and you’ll notice it. No crack in the voice. No trembling notes. No emotion. It’s all polished, but soulless. There’s no longing. No heartache. No fire. And here’s the problem: the more these tracks flood playlists, the more people will start thinking this is music. 

The AI music debate is getting messy, and artists aren’t holding back. Baby Tate went on Instagram and didn’t mince words about Xania Monet blowing up on the charts: a track made entirely by AI isn’t the same as music built from sweat, skill, and real performance. Muni Long chimed in too, pointing out that AI wouldn’t get the same pass in pop or country, and calling out Monet’s bio for listing herself alongside real artists. The message is clear: just because something goes viral doesn’t mean it deserves respect, and the music world isn’t ready to crown a machine.

The numbers make it interesting though. Roughly 28 percent of songs uploaded daily to music streaming platforms like Spotify are fully AI-generated, but these tracks only make up about 0.5% of total streams. The AI music market is projected to reach $6.2 billion by 2025 alone. Around 60 percent of musicians already use AI in some capacity. And studies suggest 82 percent of listeners can’t tell AI from human-made tracks. The machines are here. They are slick. They are climbing the charts. And yet, most people don’t even notice that something is missing.

Artists like SZA have been outspoken about the use of AI, pointing to the environmental and social costs of it. “AI doesn’t give a f–k if you live or die,” she said, highlighting the burden it places on Black and brown communities. The energy use. The pollution. The exploitation hidden behind convenient clicks. AI is not neutral. It’s a machine, but the consequences are human.

So can real artists beat AI? Yes—but not by trying to out-perform it. Humans win by being human. Machines cannot yearn, tremble, bleed, or celebrate. Machines cannot carry heartbreak, joy, hope, or the kind of lived experience that makes a lyric hit. Real artists win by embracing risk, vulnerability, and the imperfections that make their voices theirs.

If you are an emerging artist, hear this: AI will flood your playlists.  It will generate millions of “songs” without feeling a thing. But that is exactly the opportunity. Listeners will crave what machines can’t deliver: depth, fire, story, emotion. 

Machines can hit every note. They can sound perfect. But they cannot bleed, they cannot ache, and they cannot sing the truth. That’s the advantage of real artistry. The question isn’t whether they can beat AI—it’s whether they have the courage to keep creating from the heart, in a world that increasingly values convenience over soul.