Well with all the recent posts about AI music generation, deep fake images etc etc, the obvious next step has to be…..
ChatGPT, Write a very interesting opening post for the forum at theafterword.co.uk
Certainly! Here’s an engaging and thought-provoking opening post for the forum at theafterword.co.uk:
Title: “Music, Memory, and Meaning – What’s the Song That Defines You?”
Hello everyone,
I’ve been reflecting lately on how certain songs seem to have a way of embedding themselves in the soundtrack of our lives. It’s more than just a melody or a catchy chorus—sometimes, a song can feel like a personal time capsule, unlocking memories and emotions with just a few familiar notes. It could be a track that reminds you of a place, a person, or even a moment in time you’d long since forgotten.
So, I thought I’d pose a question to you all: What’s the song that defines you? The one that, whenever you hear it, you can’t help but think, “That’s me. That’s my life, right there.” Whether it’s a song that was a constant during a pivotal moment, or one that just feels like it gets you—what’s the track that resonates so deeply with your own experiences that it almost feels like it was written for you?
Feel free to share the stories behind your choices, if you’re comfortable doing so. I think it could be fascinating to see how music has shaped all of our journeys in different, yet profoundly similar ways.
Looking forward to hearing your answers!
Great question! If I had to choose one song that really defines me, I think it would have to be “The Weight” by The Band. It’s a song that perfectly encapsulates the journey of life—the burdens we carry, the people we meet, and the unexpected turns along the way.
The lyrics tell a story of struggle and companionship, of facing challenges while trying to help others, but also understanding that we all have our own weight to bear. It’s a reminder that life isn’t always about reaching the destination but learning from the journey itself. It has a certain humility in it, acknowledging our imperfections, and the need for connection and support from those around us.
The song has a timeless quality that resonates no matter where you are in life. Every time I listen to it, it feels like a meditation on the ups and downs of existence, and the importance of staying grounded, even in the face of hardship.
Full Disclosure…. I got ChatGPT to write this for me. It isn’t the answer I would have given!
Gabba gabba hey!
I’ve given your quest five seconds of profound thought and I’m going for Pinhead by the Ramones.
Fast and furious, trashy , nonsensical and outrageous, and it references Todd Browning’s Freaks.
I was at the Rainbow Theatre on New Year’s Eve 1977 and my life was turned upside down.
Goodbye Tobographic Oceans! Hello Airfix!
Great question! If I had to choose one song that really defines me, I think it would have to be “Every Loser Wins” by Nick Berry. It’s a song that perfectly encapsulates the journey of life—the losses we experience, the people we meet, and the unexpected turns along the way.
The lyrics tell a story of struggle and companionship, of facing challenges while trying to help others, but also understanding that we all have our own losses to bear. It’s a reminder that life isn’t always about reaching the destination but learning from the journey itself. It has a certain humility in it, acknowledging our imperfections, and the need for connection and support from those around us.
The song has a timeless quality that resonates no matter where you are in life. Every time I listen to it, it feels like a meditation on the ups and downs of existence, and the importance of staying grounded, even in the face of hardship.
The preceding post was one of my little jokes i.e. almost exactly the same as the @johnw ChatGPT answer.
Thing is, I am seeing these AI generated posts on social media about bands all the time now. They read like the chapters on Huey Lewis and Phil Collins in American Psycho. There’s something chilling about them. Will I soon be reading posts and responses generated entirely by AI? Not anytime soon because I can spot them a mile off – but what if they become clever, thoughtful and funny with a liberal sprinkling of knob gags?
AI-generated record reviews are quickly becoming a prominent feature on social media, offering fans and music enthusiasts a new way to engage with albums and tracks. Powered by advanced models like ChatGPT, these automated reviews are capable of analyzing musical elements, lyrics, and production quality, generating detailed critiques in seconds. This has made AI an appealing tool for platforms like Twitter, Instagram, and YouTube, where quick, concise reviews often dominate.
One of the main benefits of AI-generated reviews is their efficiency. In an era where music releases are frequent and the demand for immediate commentary is high, AI can deliver timely reviews that cover a wide range of genres and artists. Furthermore, these reviews can be customized to highlight specific aspects of an album—such as instrumentation, vocal performance, or lyrical depth—catering to diverse tastes and preferences.
However, while AI reviews offer speed and breadth, they lack the nuanced perspective and emotional connection often found in human criticism. Music, after all, is deeply subjective, and AI struggles to convey the personal impact a record might have on listeners.
As AI continues to evolve, it will likely coexist with traditional reviews, offering a blend of speed and human insight in the dynamic world of music criticism.
Thank you, ChatGPT.
Sample review:
Review of “Miles in France 1963 & 1964” by the Miles Davis Quintet
Miles in France 1963 & 1964 is an electrifying compilation that captures one of jazz’s most iconic quintets during a transformative period. Recorded in Paris, these performances showcase Miles Davis at the height of his creative powers, blending cool jazz with a daring sense of innovation.
The album features the legendary second great quintet, with Davis on trumpet, accompanied by Wayne Shorter (saxophone), Herbie Hancock (piano), Ron Carter (bass), and Tony Williams (drums). The synergy between the musicians is palpable, each player pushing the boundaries of their instrument while contributing to a collective, forward-thinking sound. The improvisation is remarkable, with each track offering a fresh perspective on the themes of modal jazz that Davis helped pioneer.
The 1963 and 1964 sessions stand out for their delicate balance of structured composition and spontaneous exploration. On tracks like “So What” and “All Blues,” the quintet effortlessly navigates complex rhythms and harmonies, creating a sound that is both cerebral and deeply emotional. The recording quality, especially for a live performance in the early ‘60s, is crisp, allowing listeners to hear the nuances of every note and breath.
For jazz enthusiasts and newcomers alike, Miles in France is an essential listen, showcasing a legendary ensemble at the peak of its powers.
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The review* is inaccurate in that of the 5 volumes of the set, only the last two, from 1964, feature Wayne Shorter. On the first 3 volumes, from 1963, the featured saxophonist is George Coleman.
*ChatGPT offered 2 alternative 200-word reviews and asked me to choose between them. The other one didn’t mention George Coleman either.
Sounds great! I’m in.
AI reviews also lack fact.
Example: Keith Moon’s drumming on Face Dances is more subdued than previous albums.
Keith Moon died in 1978, Face Dances released in 1981. No wonder his drumming was subdued.
Ah! But was it AI displaying a bit of gallows humour there? Could easily be a Tom Hibbert-type joke. It’s OK, I know it wasn’t.
One of the pleasures of reading an item by a human is that you tend to see their wry, sideways glance at the top of the page and if you like them, it’s a genuinely enjoyable experience. I can’t see AI writers connecting in quite the same way.
Not a bad review.
**Review of “The Doesn’t Exist Song” by The Doesn’t Exist Band**
When it comes to the avant-garde and surreal, *The Doesn’t Exist Song* by The Doesn’t Exist Band is a profound, boundary-pushing experiment that dares to explore the very notion of existence itself—both as a concept and in the medium of music. Released under the enigmatic “Non-Existent Label,” the track is a disorienting but oddly captivating auditory journey that defies easy categorization.
Musically, the song is an abstraction. It starts with an inaudible hum that seems to be neither sound nor silence, a metaphor for something that hovers just out of reach. Gradually, faint, distorted chords enter, but their exact nature is almost impossible to pinpoint. Are they guitars? Synths? A chaotic blend of frequencies that simply “are,” free from the constraints of traditional instrumentation? Perhaps, as the title suggests, the sound doesn’t really exist at all.
The lyrics, if you can call them that, are fragmented phrases that seem to dissolve into nothingness as soon as they’re uttered. The vocals are processed to the point of abstraction—whispers, mumbles, and occasional moments of clarity that feel intentionally fleeting. This lyrical vagueness invites listeners to interpret the song on their own terms, offering a disconcerting but exhilarating sense of liberation.
The production, too, plays a key role in this non-existent experience. The mix is deliberately thin, almost as though the track is being pulled apart by an invisible force. The sound frequently drops out, as if teasing us with the possibility of silence, before quickly reemerging with a random assortment of sonic textures. There are no traditional song structures—no verses, choruses, or bridges. It’s as if the music is constantly in a state of becoming, never quite arriving at anything tangible.
What’s most striking about *The Doesn’t Exist Song* is how it engages with the listener on an almost philosophical level. It challenges our understanding of music as a structured, predictable art form. With its dissonant approach and refusal to adhere to conventional norms, it brings us face to face with the idea that sometimes, the most profound things may exist only in the spaces between sound and silence.
In conclusion, *The Doesn’t Exist Song* is not for everyone. It’s a disorienting, cerebral piece that plays with the boundaries of what we consider music. But for those willing to venture into the unknown, it offers an experience that’s as perplexing as it is intriguing. Whether or not the song “exists” is up for debate—perhaps the real question is whether the act of listening to it makes you, as a listener, question your own existence. In any case, it is an audacious piece of art from a band that—if they even exist at all—are clearly operating in a realm beyond the conventional.
Intriguing. Must investigate.
Lost in France.
I am still here 558 years after I left Mars.
Trip Advisor uses a clearly labeled AI summary of their hotel reviews on the first page of each hotel. They are adequate, there is no spark to them, nothing makes you think “Wow! I’d like to stay there.” This is the summary of one of my my favourite hotels, The Miami in Bangkok, it’s so retro it’s like walking around the set of a Tarantino film. The summary doesn’t capture it’s charm at all…
The Miami Hotel garners consistent praise for its cleanliness, with guests highlighting the immaculate rooms and pool area. Its spacious rooms boast unique decor and a high ceiling, creating a comfortable and stylish ambiance. Guests often describe the atmosphere as chic and welcoming, while the staff’s exceptional service further enhances the experience.
The hotel is lauded for its great value and central location, making it a hit for those seeking convenience without compromising on quality. Amenities such as the outdoor pool add to the allure, ensuring a memorable stay.