The creative playground feels wide open—an endless landscape where I can experiment, push boundaries, and see what happens when I blend elements that normally don’t belong together.
With AI, I can mix and match genres in ways that would feel awkward or even impossible in a traditional workflow. Imagine combining ambient textures with gritty hip-hop beats, or weaving metal-inspired riffs into an ethereal electronic soundscape. I can explore moods and vibes that crash together in unexpected harmony—or glorious chaos. It’s like throwing paint at a canvas, only to discover new shades and patterns you didn’t know existed.
What excites me is not just the “what if” but the “what next.” By stitching together fragments of sound—little pieces of melody, rhythm, or atmosphere—I set off on a journey without knowing where I’ll land. Sometimes the result is a total mess, and honestly, most of it is. But within that chaos, I often find small golden fragments. Those gems feel like sparks waiting to be nurtured, the seeds of something new and worth developing further.
That’s the beauty of experimentation: not everything needs to be polished or perfect. In fact, most of what I generate never makes it past the first round. I probably discard 95% of the material I create, and from the 5% that survives, I might only release half of it—if that. My standard is simple: if I can’t stand behind it 100%, it doesn’t leave the studio.
And this is where the human factor comes in. Some people worry that AI will strip music of its soul, but I see the opposite happening. The tools themselves don’t make the art—I do. AI is like clay, raw and formless until I shape it into something meaningful. It gives me endless raw material to play with, but I’m the one making the decisions, setting the direction, and filtering what’s worth keeping. In fact, my own creativity feels boosted because of this process. I feel freer to take risks, knowing I can explore without limits.
That doesn’t mean I ignore quality. Far from it. There’s a lot of bad AI-generated music out there, cluttering platforms and giving the whole field a messy reputation. But that just makes it more important to keep a tight filter, to treat the process with the same respect you would in any other form of music-making. The difference now is that I have a wider range of possibilities to explore before making those choices.
At the end of the day, I think of AI not as a replacement for human creativity, but as a partner in the experiment. It’s a collaborator that never runs out of ideas, even if most of those ideas are unusable. For me, the joy lies in the chase—in digging through the noise to uncover the sparks worth keeping, in letting the unexpected inspire me, and in knowing that the process itself is just as valuable as the finished song.
Because for me, it’s not just about releasing tracks. It’s about letting creativity flow, seeing where it leads, and enjoying the ride. The process is the goal.
