I t’s a really bad word in some circles,” says Lumineers producer David Baron. “I know people who hate AI with a passion, but wouldn’t say it out loud.”

“People don’t really admit to what extent they’re using it ,” says songwriter Michelle Lewis. She describes the atmosphere around AI with her peers as, “Don’t ask, don’t tell.” 

The CEO of Suno, Mikey Shulman, recently described AI use as “the Ozempic of the music industry — everybody is on it and nobody wants to talk about it.”

It’s a fraught, almost pregnant moment in the music industry with AI. Baron admits that there can be a “social penalty” around using it. Teddy Swims experienced a version of that in November when he called AI music tools “truly amazing” — and faced a fan backlash online. At the same time, you don’t see the same level of public uproar from artists and industry people that we saw just a couple of years ago in the wake of the first shockingly convincing AI artist clones, like the Drake-Weeknd simulacrum “Heart on My Sleeve.” “No one wants to be left behind, or come across as old-school,” says Lewis, who has written songs for Cher, Hillary Duff, and others, and co-founded the nonprofit advocacy organization Songwriters of North America. 



Mostly behind closed doors, AI-powered tools are causing profound shifts in how music is being made at all levels of the industry. It’s found a place in the studios and digital audio workstations of many of the biggest producers and songwriters in the world. Lauren Christy of the Matrix, who has written for everybody from Avril Lavigne and Britney Spears to Liz Phair, says, “The train has left the station.” 

How much AI-assisted music is already on the Billboard charts? Baron hasn’t himself seen artists or producers submit fully or partly AI-generated music to labels, but says, “I guarantee that’s  happened.” “We don’t have the detection software, really, that’s effective yet,” says Lewis. “So, if you can’t tell, then how can you enforce it?” The i