For the last three years, I’ve been quietly experimenting with artificial intelligence. Not as a tech evangelist. Not as someone interested in replacing human creativity. And certainly not as someone convinced that machines are becoming people. I came to these tools the same way I’ve come to most creative practices in my life: curiously. As a writer. A poet. A songwriter. A producer. Someone interested in process, meaning, rhythm, image, and the strange ways ideas emerge when

Humanism As I was growing up, it was often stated in church that “humanism” was the enemy of God. I got the impression that lifting up humans or humanity was denigrating the Almighty. Of course, it only became clear to me later that our precious creation story in Genesis 1 and 2 was the story of a God leaning down to make literal mud pies (latin root of “human” being humus — “dirt, earth or ground” and the name “Adam” from the Hebrew “adamah” meaning “earth” or “red dirt”) in

A Human Framework for AI Songwriting Collaboration The stage is dim, a stool at the center, and a man with a guitar, tuning strings slowly, deliberately. Around him, a restless chorus fidgets, unsure what they are meant to be. One asks if he starts with lyrics or music. Another wonders what their role is in the play. The man keeps tuning, then finally looks up. “Everything you need to know about catching and making songs is right here in the body of this instrument,” he says,