AI Can't Make Music

The first concert I bought tickets to after the pandemic subsided was a performance of the British singer-songwriter Birdy, held last April in Belgium. I've listened to Birdy more than to any other artist; her voice has pulled me through the hardest and happiest stretches of my life. I know every lyric to nearly every song in her discography, but that night Birdy's voice had the same effect as the first time I'd listened to her, through beat-up headphones connected to an iPod over a decade ago--a physical shudder, as if a hand had reached across time and grazed me, somehow, just beneath the skin. Countless people around the world have their own version of this ineffable connection, with Taylor Swift, perhaps, or the Beatles, Bob Marley, or Metallica. My feelings about Birdy's music were powerful enough to propel me across the Atlantic, just as tens of thousands of people flocked to the Sphere to see Phish earlier this year, or some 400,000 went to Woodstock in 1969.