It has been a slow first half of the year for me in music business. I do try to keep myself busy, but it has been hard to avoid having some serious conversations with myself about failure, aka “the forbidden word of contemporary times”.
Failure has become a sin, a bad word that we shy away from in conversation. It carries a heavy weight in our craving-for-quick-results society, where success is relentlessly celebrated and expected at every turn. But the obsession with immediate gratification leaves little room for the valuable lessons that come from stumbling and falling short.
Although the idea of what does it mean to be a hit or a failure is hard to describe, we all know how does failure feels. Even the mere possibility of it lurks in the corners of our ambitions, feeding on our fears and insecurities, often making us hesitant to dream big or pursue our passions wholeheartedly.
Yet, in those open-hearted talks with myself, I have come to realize that failure is not an end but rather a crucial part of the journey toward success.
The first positive side of failure is that it only comes to those who have tried. and trying is always better than having the question “what would have happened if I had…” constantly haunting you. It also teaches you resilience, reveals character, and provides invaluable lessons that may foster growth and personal development, if you let it happen.
But, maybe the most important thing about failure is that it provides a very good scale for your passion. How so? Well, I believe we all agree that failure is not something pleasant. It hurts the ego, it brings you confusion and disappointment, but that said, how hard you want to give your passion a second try?
If despite the bad experience and even without any security that things will work out the next time, even though you want to try it again, then there is no doubt you are dealing with something very important to you, something that you simply cannot do without, your true vocation if you will. In short: you are a person with a quest, and the way I see it, people with quests are the best.
The world is a mess and if your are willing to go through all the trouble (possible failure included) it is because of a calling, and that is huge! So huge that the ups and downs will be part of your way, but they will not affect the core of what you do.
When you manage to see obstacles as essential experiences, fluctuations will not affect the essence of what you do. Your commitment remains unwavering, like a compass, steady and free from the shackles of societal expectations.
Sure we all think about quitting here and then. Sure we all need a little help here and there. And sure, we might come to the conclusion that maybe it is time to finish a chapter when the weight of our struggles feels unbearable. However, it is crucial to remember that under no circumstances should one take a drastic decision based on a singular failure, as mistakes are often stepping stones to growth and success.
Instead of letting temporary setbacks define our path, embrace then (as graceful as you can) and let them lead you to a more profound understanding of what it means to persevere and truly strive for a goal.
Today is International Jazz Day (Hurray!). This year, I propose a reflection on the role of AI in jazz. Is is just anothert tool? A threat?
Here are some reflections on AI’s rising influence and growing presence in the music industry, from song generation to virtual instruments and its impact on the future of a genre deeply rooted in human creativity and improvisation. You may read the txt or watch the video. Enjoy!
jAIzz
Close your eyes and imagine the smoky haze of a jazz club. Suddenly, it hits you, that unmistakable, infectious beat. Take Five, the iconic jazz anthem by Paul Desmond, immortalized by the Dave Brubeck Quartet, washes over you.
The melody is both complex and playful, the rhythm a daring departure from the norm. Take Five isn’t just a song, it’s an experience, it’s a conversation between instruments, a spontaneous outpouring of creativity and emotion. It is jazz at its finest, unpredictable, soulful and undeniably human.
But what happens when this human element, the very soul of jazz, faces an unexpected partner on stage, artificial intelligence? The world of music is no stranger to innovation. Throughout history, musicians and inventors have pushed boundaries, always searching for new ways to express creativity and emotion. From the invention of the gramophone to the birth of digital recording, technology has always shaped how we create and consume music.
Each breakthrough has opened up fresh possibilities, transforming not just the sounds we hear, but the very process of making music itself. What is new in the case of artificial intelligence is the fact that it’s not just a new game player, it’s a game changer. Algorithms can compose songs that are often indistinguishable from human creations.
The new technologies are able to listen, adapt and respond, creating a dynamic musical conversation. These systems can analyze countless styles and genres, learning to mimic the nuances of jazz improvisation in real time. A world where AI algorithms collaborate with human musicians is no longer a piece of science fiction, it is happening now.
As AI technology continues to evolve, its impact on the future of jazz is becoming impossible to ignore. The next era of music is unfolding before our eyes, and AI is part of it. The boundaries between human creativity and machine intelligence are becoming increasingly blurred, but the marriage of jazz and AI is a complex one though.
It is filled with promises and uncertainty. AI offers jazz musicians incredible new tools for creation and collaboration, opening doors to sounds and ideas that may have never been explored before. Imagine an AI program that can analyze your improvisations, learn from your style, and even suggest harmonies, rhythms or chord progressions you might not have considered.
Acting as a creative partner rather than just a tool. But again, is a tool ever just a tool? Let’s go back to 1966, when French philosopher Michel Foucault brilliantly approached the topic of the subject in his analysis of the painting Las Meninas, an oeuvre from 1656 by Spanish painter Diego Velázquez. On the canvas, the main motif of the painting, the representation of King Philip IV and his wife Mariana, is reduced to a mere reflection in a tiny mirror on the wall.
While the painter himself and secondary elements of the scene are moved to the front of the composition, Foucault perceives in the inversion of the roles proposed by Velázquez a breaking point. The subject of the painting is replaced by representation, and the representation becomes the main subject. Free from its reference, which is now relegated to a supporting position, representation no longer needs to belong to anyone or point to anything except itself.
Certainly, the history of humanity is full of examples that show that any technological innovation provokes heated reactions, both for and against it. On the other hand, denying that we are facing a peculiar challenge, to say the least, is tantamount to denying climate change, on the grounds that weather has always changed. What is at stake here is much more than a mere personal, aesthetic choice, but rather a collective, ethical attitude towards the future of a music genre.
Why? First of all, because the golden days of believing in a neutral form of technology are over, if they ever existed. This was not the case in analog times, and is absolutely not the case in the digital age. And yet, many creators refer to AI as just a tool.
Well, if you think that a complex system, such as artificial intelligence, is just a tool, and that tools are neutral entities, above the good and the evil, perhaps it is interesting to ask yourself, every time you find yourself in front of a tool, be it your car or your tablet, who produced it? Who distributes it? Is it free? Is it accessible to all? If such questions never occurred to you, then probably you are in a position that allows you to take the access to technology for granted, and to consider it as a fundamental right. A position that sets you at a remarkable advantage compared to the substantial amount of people all over the world that cannot take potable water for granted, let alone the access to the internet. Secondly, because there is no such thing as a free lunch, we know that, at the end of the day, we, humans, are the ones providing the data that feeds AI.
And this often occurs without our knowledge, and through rules that are still very opaque to the average user. The overwhelming majority of us ignore the extent to which all of this information is used. The lines between the surface web, the deep web, and the no man’s land called the dark web often overlap, and the popularization of the use of AI brings a powerful player into the game.
The problem is that no one knows for sure how this player behaves on the field. Finally, I believe that the discussion about the use of AI is not limited to personal preferences, but rather is linked to collective issues, because the promise behind all the promises that AI makes to us is that of a future of infinite creative possibilities, which cannot be experienced unless collectively. After all, your work alone does not bring much to the database, but a world of wonders is just a click away, as long as we all agree to take part in the farewell ceremony to authorship and copyrights, at least concerning individuals, since corporations are usually quite effective in finding loopholes to circumvent sanctions imposed on ordinary citizens.
Appealing to an idealized future is a good pitch, but it hides the fact that artificial intelligence is actually tied to the past. As member of the Brazilian Academy of Sciences, neuroscientist Roberto Lent recently pointed out, quote, artificial intelligence depends on the past, on a huge database to function. It deals with this data in a passive way, while the human brain deals better with the future, creating new information.
So, AI accumulates what humans have created and uses it for functions that resemble what the human brain does. But what really creates knowledge is the human brain, unquote. Back to jazz, can an algorithm truly understand the soul of a genre born from human experience, emotion, and the freedom to break the rules? Or does it risk turning a deeply personal art form into something mechanical and predictable? At its core, jazz is about improvisation, the art of spontaneous musical experience.
Each performance embraces the unexpected, and it is unique, shaped by the chemistry between players and the mood of the audience, and the mood of the musicians as well. Jazz is about feeling the music deep within your bones and letting it flow out through your instrument. The magic of improvisation lies in its unpredictability and the way it captures fleeting moments of inspiration and emotion.
But, again, can AI, bound by algorithms and devoid of genuine emotion, ever truly grasp the essence of improvisation? Can a machine, no matter how advanced it, understand the subtle cues, the silent communication, and the emotional depth that define a great jazz performance? Can it replicate the raw, unfiltered emotions that give jazz its complexity? Or is there something inherently human about the way we express ourselves through music, something that can’t be programmed or predicted? These questions challenge us to consider what it truly means to create art, to improvise, to connect with one another through music, and to find meaning in the spontaneous beauty of the moment. But, after all, what about our main question? Will AI enhance the human experience of jazz, or will it dilute its essence? The answer, like a complex jazz melody, is full of nuances. But one thing is clear, it’s up to us, the listeners and creators, to shape the future of jazz.
As for AI, just as Velazquez reduced the subject to a reflection in the mirror, but could not totally get rid of it, artificial intelligence cannot do without the continuous human production either, under the penalty of becoming an obsolete tool. The future of jazz remains a human specialty and responsibility.
You may cry for no reason at all. Or for all sorts of reasons.
Searching through your memories, you may remember a song you haven’t heard in years and feel a warm feeling in your heart when you hear it again.
You mayl remember what was happening in your life back then come to the conclusion that you are much better now, but that something was definitely lost along the way.
What is it?
You may then finally understand that you will have to go on without that answer.
You may feel as though the day is passing smoothly as the diffuse afternoon light enters the room. Perhaps the silence sounds, at first, like a buzzing in your suddenly peaceful mind, but you will get used to it, even when the dog next door starts barking again.
Maybe you will find te time to make a list of the things you have accomplished this year and are surprised at how long it is.
Maybe you will feel a sudden urge to cook something exotic and very spicy while listening to Ella and Louis and then you feel like dancing around the house and even get scared when you remember that just a few hours ago you were crying for no reason at all.
A few weeks ago I saw a call for applications for the use of a recording studio. The application form was not very complicated, but I had to write a description of the project. Since I had not come up with a name yet, I started thinking about a good one that would convey what I wanted to express.
When I finally managed to think of a title that I liked, something that truly resonated with the theme I was aiming for, I opened the application page with a sense of anticipation, only to discover that all the positions had already been filled.
A wave of disappointment washed over me and left me with a harsh (and not exactly new), but valuable lesson that I should never forget (again): if you wait too long to seize an opportunity, you may miss it. And how much time I wasted looking for the perfect title, which will now be shelved until a new opportunity arises! It wold for sure have been better to send a less perfect title that could had been modified later, but now it was just too late.
Time, relentless, marches on, urging us to act decisively. We know what happens when we refuse this call: the more we hesitate, the more we allow our ambitions and passions to fade into the background, leaving us with a sense of regret and what could have been. Every moment we hesitate not only allows our ambitions to fade but also creates a chasm between us and our goals, ultimately limiting our control over life.
The fear of making the wrong choice can paralyze you and it is not hard to find why. After all, making decisions, either big or small, can be very hard for numerous reasons, such as the potential for failure, the expectation of others, or the innate desire for perfection.
However, it is important to recognize that each choice we make, regardless of its outcome, contributes to our personal growth. Our control over our lives is subject to the control of time over all things, including ourselves. Every moment wasted in indecision can lead to lost opportunities, and many lost opportunities are the stuff of which lost dreams are made.
The ability to weigh options and consider consequences is a crucial skill that builds confidence over time, ultimately making the next decision a bit lighter than the previous one, since we begin to understand ourselves, our choices and their potential impacts better.
In the situations that life presents, it is not always up to us to make the decision, but when there is this gap, we must use our capacity for agency to the maximum. As hard as decisions may be, they are our opportunity to assert ourselves; otherwise, it is life that will invariably decide for us, and we may find ourselves being swept along by circumstances rather than steering our own course.
Each choice has the potential to guide us toward opportunities we never imagined possible or to steer us away from our goals. Embracing the potential of our agency allows us to shape our destinies, ensuring that we do not merely react to the tides of life but actively sail towards our desired shores.
Last October, while getting ready eparing for a performance in a park, I surprised the makeup lady who had asked me if I was nervous. I replied that I was not nervous, because I got used to accepting unexpected events. She kindly said: “Oh, but I am sure there will be no unexpected events.” “Of course there will”, I thought, but since I had to be quiet so she could apply the lipstick, I kept my mouth wide shut.
I did not want to sound pessimistic, blasé or anything like that. I just knew that something would go wrong, simply because it was a live performance, in a public place. For starters, you cannot control the weather (although humanity has systematically proven that it is possible to make it considerably worse).
What experience has taught me is that live performances are subject to unforeseen events (of course, studio recordings are too, but in these cases, repetitions and corrections are made until the desired state is reached, and if you are interested in recordings, you will probably like to read about my most recent recording experience, reported here), they are is a kind of playground for the unexpected. The stage is a place where every corner invites spontaneity and surprise. Good and bad ones, of course.
In my first live performances I was nervous precisely because I wanted to control everything that happened, from the technical part, through the musicians, to the interaction with the audience; I wanted everything to be rehearsed to the millimeter. This desire for meticulous control stemmed from my deep passion for music and an unwavering commitment to providing an unforgettable experience, but despite its noble origins, this type of behavior can be quite harmful in the end.
The very thought of an unforeseen was responsible for a good amount of totally unnecessary anxiety, until I understood that live performances are unpredictable, it does not matter who is on stage. It is not a question of being a professional or not. Even the performer with the largest team and infinite financial resources will still be acting under the influence of several factors that he simply cannot control. And if we are talking about a festival, with several acts, the unpredictability factor increases exponentially.
I realized that this exaggerated fear of the unexpected was limiting and, above all, very frustrating. It held me back from experiencing the richness of the stage experience. Worst of all, it kept me from having fun while performing, and darling, if you are not having fun on stage, neither is the audience.
Learning to appreciate the beauty of uncertainty can be a difficult exercise, but the more you practice, the easier it becomes, and once you learned the ropes, nothing can make you nervous anymore. In fact, I believe it is a dynamic process that extends not only throughout a career, but also into our daily lives. By accepting and embracing the unexpected, I have become not only a more confident performer, but also a less fearful human being.
Let us not forget that the great Nina Simone once stated that freedom is to live without fear. And this is the kind of lesson that you take from the stage to life.
GEISA FERNANDES 