Raqs Nerd: raging against the machines 🤖 and gratitude for humans 💖

Are you subscribed yet to Zara's brilliant online bellydance magazine "Zameena"? If not, you definitely should be!

This month, Zara wrote in her "music corner" column about the rise of AI music in Egypt - and she raised some really important questions... Read it here​

Now, I am not going to lie - I find the news that AI-generated music is now trending in Egypt to be genuinely upsetting

And in general, not just in Egypt, I find it upsetting that AI-generated music seems to be getting traction and becoming popular on streaming services, around the world (although how much of that is a genuine choice, and how much comes of sticking on somebody else's playlist in the background and not listening too closely, I am not sure...)

But it cuts me especially deeply when it's Egyptian music, because this is what I mainly listen to at the moment, and of course, what I dance to, teach to, perform to...

And, because what I personally find so very compelling about the Egyptian music I love to listen to, boils down to the humanity of it.

The difficult thing is, I'm not actually sure I could ever fully explain this feeling, to somebody who was OK emotionally with the idea of listening to synthetic "music" that had been assembled by a machine - though I did do my best to express this in a previous Raqs Nerd ("Raqs Nerd: On physicality and being human"), which is actually one of my favourite pieces of writing since I began this newsletter.

Music, and artistic expression in general, is something sacred to me. Something that connects us to the experience of being alive, and makes us a part of something bigger than ourselves - through shared feeling, through connected aliveness.

So my problem with algorithmically-generated music is not just that it is only made possible by industrial-scale theft (though it is), or that it objectively sounds bad (though in my opinion it does sound bad - or more specifically, lifeless), but that I feel it is a fundamental violation and betrayal of something deeply meaningful and precious.

In her "music corner", Zara says:

And that gets to the root of it, for me.

Dancing to music is a form of co-creation between dancer and musicians. There is something inherently emotionally intimate about it - even if you don't know the musicians, will never meet them, or even are dancing to music many decades after it was recorded. It is still on some level an open and sincere exchange of energy between living and feeling human beings (perhaps in very different times and places).

When the music doesn't come from any living human being at all, the thought of that feels, to me, like an intimate kind of violation. Like being deliberately tricked into something I would never knowingly consent to. Like the horrible ick of realising you've engaged in good faith and been emotionally vulnerable with somebody who turned out to be insincere and only looking to manipulate you. Or of writing a thoughtful and heartfelt message to somebody, only to receive a reply that's obviously ChatGPT. Like how a songbird might feel if they suddenly realised and understood that they had been feeding a cuckoo chick in their nest.

So suffice to say, I absolutely will not be playing, listening to, dancing to, or in any way promoting or using AI-generated "music"

Am I fighting against the rising tide here? Maybe. But I don't care. I will be sticking to my guns on this in any case. Even if it means I'm not cool or trendy (I've never been trendy in my life TBH).

Am I a Luddite? Perhaps - the Luddites were, after all, fighting against the replacement of human skill and artistry by machines in the pursuit of corporate profits.

And how can we move forward?

Well, even before tech giants began relentlessly forcing generative AI into every aspect of our lives, I already knew my path - and I feel it's only more important now:

Creating real, in-person spaces to dance and make music as a spontaneous, human practice

Putting on classes, parties, and performances with live music and improvised dance

Celebrating, promoting, and educating about human-made arts (and in my context, especially about the artistry of real human Egyptian musicians)

Because the sprawling datacentres that suck up ever more of our fresh water and energy might now be able to churn out a flat and soulless approximation of formulaic pop music... but they can't touch nor replicate even the tiniest part of the experience of being in a live venue, with an electrifying atmosphere, as musicians and dancers and crowd create something together that will never exist in exactly the same way again beyond that moment.

And I would like to share with you also, a small practice that has become a part of my life almost without me noticing - but which I believe is important, more now than ever

Although you might not believe it if you've seen my house, the book "the life changing magic of tidying up" by Marie Kondo actually had quite a profound effect on me when I read it some years ago.

Unfortunately it did not make me good at tidying up. But it did cause the idea of thanking things to stick irremovably in my mind.

Kondo suggests that you should thank items for their service, before you throw them away. And actually, I do do this, still (for example, I thanked all of my university notes for their service, before I put them in the paper recycling this summer). I find it a very helpful practice.

But more recently I've also sort of accidentally developed a habit of saying "thank you", whether out loud or just in my head, when I've enjoyed listening to or dancing to music.

If I know the names of the musicians, I may thank them by name, if not, a general "thank you". And a moment of gratitude and apprecation for what they have brought into the world, and that I get to hear and enjoy it. A moment to remember that people made this, with skill and care and love for their craft.

And now that I've noticed I'm doing it, I am trying to do it more - because I think this is something the world needs more of. Recognition of, and appreciation for, the people behind the arts that we enjoy.

How different would the world be if this habit became normal?

With Love,

PS - there are now just 4 in-person places remaining for the Raqs Roots Intensive: Ishas el-Musiqa with Nisaa and Reda Henkesh! A unique chance to learn about music and musicality for Egyptian dance from the perspective of traditional Egyptian performers - and to explore the full depth of cultural nuance around this glorious art - find the full event information here​

PPS - every part of this newsletter is written by me, a flesh and blood human being, using my own thoughts, feelings, opinions, and writing style - now and always. This is a 100% generative AI free zone 🚫🤖

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