I’ve been sitting with something lately. It started with a headline—“AI-generated song tops the charts”—and spiraled into a deeper ache I couldn’t quite name. You know that feeling when something sounds beautiful but feels hollow? That’s what this new wave of machine-made music stirs in me.
I’m not here to bash technology. I use it. I respect it. But I also know this: real music comes from the body. From breath. From heartbreak. From the messy, glorious truth of being alive.
AI can mimic tone. It can replicate rhythm. But it can’t feel. It doesn’t carry the memory of your grandmother’s humming in the kitchen, or the way your chest tightens when a certain chord hits just right. That’s soul. That’s story. And it’s not programmable.
I worry that we’re forgetting. That we’re trading embodiment for efficiency. That we’re letting algorithms decide what moves us, instead of trusting our own pulse.
So here’s my invitation:
Before you press play, ask yourself—does this sound like someone who’s lived?
Does it carry the weight of a real moment, a real body, a real choice?
Because in a world rushing toward simulation, choosing what’s real is revolutionary.
Stay rooted. Stay human.
—Donna 💚
