VERSION 1: Hand written
Hmmm.
Should material created, assisted or enhanced by A.I. (Artificial Intelligence), be denied human copyright protection?
Remember the old commercial tag line, “is it real or is it Memorex?”
Let’s explore where we end, and tech begins. 40 years ago we sat down in front of a DMX sequencing device and made a song happen. It was titled “Nasty Man”, in response to the Vanity 6 record, Nasty Girl. Prince got away with filing an injunction against us, claiming that we were infringing on his copyright. We didn’t even sample his song, which by today’s standards would be legal, as long as we declared his participation on the split sheet and “shared” the copyright/royalty check.
Well, who really stole what from who?
I submit that when Prince sat down in front of a synth(etic) keyboard and started twisting knobs, so as to tweak and affect the attack, filters, delay, LFOs, modulation, and the rate of decay, in order to create his unique sounds, he was in fact stealing from the folks that sampled the real world sounds and digitally made the tones available to be tweaked.
Who would deny Kendrick Lamar’s version of Marvin Gaye’s words and music to the classic song“ If this world were mine”. (The kids will have to Google what I just said, because they thought it was a Luther song)
Now, back to my synthesizer reference. The use of those digital versions of analog sounds are nothing but early, if not ancient versions of A.I.
I sometimes sit down in front of my synthesizers and write a song, or sit in front of the computer and write articles for Inglewood Today print media, various blogs, or online social media. I have access to royalty free photos, images and yes – even music or I can prompt one of my duplicitous APPs to design, create or spit out images, lip-synced video or whatever suits my fancy, for whatever I’m trying to illustrate, portray or pedal in the public market square.
Sometimes, (like this one), it’s all me, but in a pinch I can use some A.I. It does some of the research for me, checks my spelling and adds the names of government officials, when I draw a blank. A.I. will even find suitable images, if I prompt it to do so.
All in all – this is just a misunderstanding. Using A.I. is scary, to some because the boundaries and legalities are yet to be defined, but soon – and sooner than you think, it will supplement us and be an acceptable advocate, companion or assistant, just as is that back up camera on your car.
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VERSION 2 AI enhanced
A.I., Creativity, and the Fight for Copyright Control
The question of whether works created, assisted, or enhanced by artificial intelligence (A.I.) should be eligible for human copyright protection isn’t just a legal curiosity—it’s a coming storm. The courts, lawmakers, and artists are all on a collision course with technology that refuses to slow down.
I’ve seen this type of battle before. Forty years ago, I sat in front of a DMX sequencing device and made Nasty Man—my musical answer to Vanity 6’s Nasty Girl. Then came the cease-and-desist from Prince. He claimed copyright infringement, even though we hadn’t sampled a single second of his track. Back then, the legal system favored the powerful. Today, with looser rules around sampling (provided proper credit and splits are given), my case might have ended very differently.
But let’s be real—Prince’s “pure” sounds weren’t born out of thin air either. When he twisted knobs on a synthesizer, adjusting filters, delays, and modulation, he was working with digital recreations of real-world sounds that someone else had recorded, processed, and packaged. That’s not theft—it’s art—but it’s also a reminder that technology-assisted creation has been part of music for decades. The early synthesizer was an ancestor of A.I.
The truth is, human creativity has always relied on tools. Whether it’s Kendrick Lamar reinterpreting Marvin Gaye’s If This World Were Mine (and watching younger fans credit Luther Vandross instead), or a photographer using Photoshop to refine an image, art is rarely “pure” in the untouched sense.
I use tools, too. Sometimes I write my own material entirely by hand. Other times, I lean on A.I. to speed up research, fix grammar, retrieve the name of an official I momentarily forget, or find the perfect royalty-free image. Just like a camera stabilizer doesn’t make someone less of a photographer, A.I. doesn’t erase the human mind behind the work—it just changes the workflow.
Still, the legal system hasn’t caught up. Right now, there’s a dangerous gap where A.I.-assisted creators could be denied the same protections as their non-A.I. peers. That’s not just unfair—it’s a recipe for exploitation. Large corporations are already building vast A.I. models from the creative output of others, without compensation. If independent creators can’t protect their own A.I.-assisted works, the playing field will tilt even further toward the tech giants.
The fear some have about A.I. replacing artists is misplaced. The real threat is in who gets to own the results. If we fail to define authorship in the A.I. age, we risk repeating history—where the tools benefit the powerful, and the creators get left behind.
The choice isn’t between human or machine—it’s about ensuring both work in partnership, with credit and compensation flowing where it’s due. Because in the end, art—whether played on a guitar, generated from a prompt, or sequenced on a vintage DMX—still comes down to the human hand guiding the process.
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VERSION 3: AI magazine style
A.I., Creativity, and the Fight for Copyright Control
The question of whether works created, assisted, or enhanced by artificial intelligence (A.I.) should be eligible for human copyright protection isn’t just a legal curiosity—it’s a coming storm. The courts, lawmakers, and artists are all on a collision course with technology that refuses to slow down.
I’ve seen this type of battle before. Forty years ago, I sat in front of a DMX sequencing device and made Nasty Man—my musical answer to Vanity 6’s Nasty Girl. Then came the cease-and-desist from Prince. He claimed copyright infringement, even though we hadn’t sampled a single second of his track. Back then, the legal system favored the powerful. Today, with looser rules around sampling (provided proper credit and splits are given), my case might have ended very differently.
But let’s be real—Prince’s “pure” sounds weren’t born out of thin air either. When he twisted knobs on a synthesizer, adjusting filters, delays, and modulation, he was working with digital recreations of real-world sounds that someone else had recorded, processed, and packaged. That’s not theft—it’s art—but it’s also a reminder that technology-assisted creation has been part of music for decades. The early synthesizer was an ancestor of A.I.
The truth is, human creativity has always relied on tools. Whether it’s Kendrick Lamar reinterpreting Marvin Gaye’s If This World Were Mine (and watching younger fans credit Luther Vandross instead), or a photographer using Photoshop to refine an image, art is rarely “pure” in the untouched sense.
I use tools, too. Sometimes I write my own material entirely by hand. Other times, I lean on A.I. to speed up research, fix grammar, retrieve the name of an official I momentarily forget, or find the perfect royalty-free image. Just like a camera stabilizer doesn’t make someone less of a photographer, A.I. doesn’t erase the human mind behind the work—it just changes the workflow.
Still, the legal system hasn’t caught up. Right now, there’s a dangerous gap where A.I.-assisted creators could be denied the same protections as their non-A.I. peers. That’s not just unfair—it’s a recipe for exploitation. Large corporations are already building vast A.I. models from the creative output of others, without compensation. If independent creators can’t protect their own A.I.-assisted works, the playing field will tilt even further toward the tech giants.
The fear some have about A.I. replacing artists is misplaced. The real threat is in who gets to own the results. If we fail to define authorship in the A.I. age, we risk repeating history—where the tools benefit the powerful, and the creators get left behind.
The choice isn’t between human or machine—it’s about ensuring both work in partnership, with credit and compensation flowing where it’s due. Because in the end, art—whether played on a guitar, generated from a prompt, or sequenced on a vintage DMX—still comes down to the human hand guiding the process.