AI as a tool in music-making is fine, but it's always going to

Hear the words of Jacob Collier, a master of harmony and rhythm, who declared with the wisdom of one deeply rooted in the art: “AI as a tool in music-making is fine, but it's always going to be the humanity in music that makes people want to listen to it.” In this saying lies a truth for our age, where machines grow in power and intelligence, yet cannot touch the eternal flame of the human soul. For music is not merely sound arranged with precision—it is the beating heart of life expressed through tone, silence, and breath.

To say that AI is a tool is to acknowledge its usefulness. Just as the lyre, the piano, or the recording device extended the reach of the musician, so too does artificial intelligence offer new possibilities. But Collier reminds us that tools are not the essence. A brush does not create a painting; the artist’s vision does. A chisel does not carve a statue; the sculptor’s hands bring forth the hidden form. Likewise, AI may assist, but it cannot replace the humanity that breathes meaning into sound.

The ancients understood this distinction well. Consider the myth of Pygmalion, who sculpted a figure so perfect it seemed alive, yet it remained lifeless stone until the gods granted it a soul. So too with music made only by machines: it may be flawless, precise, and technically perfect, yet without the breath of human passion, it remains cold. It is the quiver in the singer’s voice, the slight imperfection of a hand upon the strings, the emotional cry within the melody that moves the heart. These are the marks of humanity that no tool can forge.

History offers us another example. In the rise of recorded music, many feared that live performance would wither, replaced by the machine’s reproduction of sound. Yet even today, people travel across continents to hear music performed in person, to feel the living presence of an artist pouring heart and soul into each note. The human connection between performer and listener endures, proving Collier’s truth: it is not the perfection of sound alone, but the humanity within it, that draws people to listen.

This teaching is not a rejection of progress, but a reminder of priorities. We may embrace tools, but we must never forget that they serve us, not replace us. Just as the sword is powerless without the warrior, and the pen meaningless without the writer, so too is AI powerless without the guiding spark of human emotion. It is humanity in music that transforms vibration into meaning, rhythm into memory, melody into healing.

Therefore, beloved seeker, take this wisdom to heart: use the tools of your age, but do not surrender your voice to them. Let them amplify, not replace, your humanity. Whether in music, art, or daily life, remember that what others long to hear is not your perfection but your truth—the sound of your struggle, your joy, your longing, your love. That is the song no machine can sing.

Practical actions are clear: if you create music, let your heart lead, and let tools follow. Do not fear imperfection, for it is the mark of authenticity. If you listen, seek not only polish and clarity, but the trembling of humanity in the notes. And beyond music, in all creation, let your work be infused with your spirit, for only then will it reach the souls of others.

And so, remember Collier’s wisdom: the humanity in music is eternal. Tools may change, instruments may evolve, and machines may assist, but what makes music immortal is the heartbeat behind it. Cherish that humanity, express it boldly, and your song—whether played on strings, sung with voice, or shaped with new technology—will endure in the hearts of those who listen.