When the Algorithm Drops a Beat

As a visual artist, I’m used to bending tools to fit a vision. Paint, pixels, AI, programs—they all come with quirks you have to work around. AI music apps? I assumed they were more gimmick than instrument. So I opened Suno half-expecting something between karaoke filler and Muzak for the metaverse. (Boo)

What I got instead was… complicated.

I started with my own lyrics—something with mood and intention—then pushed Suno through genre and vocal style prompts until the output felt less like a machine hallucination and more like, well, a song. Not “good for AI.” A song. The kind you could slip into a playlist and no one would notice the ghost in the machine until you told them.

Can it actually slap?

AI music has a reputation problem, and honestly, it deserves it. Most of it sounds like a Spotify clone trying to cosplay as a human. So when I hit “generate,” I braced myself for a cringe-fest.

But here’s the twist: the track kind of worked. The hook stuck. The beat had pulse. There was even texture.

It wasn’t flawless (no one’s mistaking it for Billie Eilish), but it had that raw, sketchbook energy artists actually might enjoy and dare I say, respect: imperfect, a little weird, but with heart.

It wasn’t flawless (no one’s mistaking it for Billie Eilish), but it had that raw, sketchbook energy artists actually might enjoy and dare I say, respect: imperfect, a little weird, but with heart. The truth is, Suno didn’t write a bop. We did. My lyrics gave it soul; the AI gave it muscle. Alone, neither would’ve landed. Together, they made something that at least made me tilt my head and think: maybe AI isn’t replacing artists—it’s just another brush in the box.

Full song: