by TINA LOLLOCADENKA, Alternate Reality News Service Music Writer
Mickey Fernwilter, bass player for the post-metal pre-country band Pixies in Dixie, looked like he had just swallowed a Datsun. Or, possibly a Dachshund. The accent on his face made it hard to tell. "My parents always told me that I would make a great used dentures salesman," he commented sourly. "I guess we're about to find out if they were right."
Singer/songwriter Emily Fotzpatrick, whose single "Ballad of a Bad Kid" made the bottom of Rolling Scone's Top 100 Songs of the Third Quarter, set her acoustic guitar on fire. "I could try to keep going," she commented sourly, "but the wall will get worn down by my head hitting it, and I like my apartment just the way it is."
Percussionist Billy "Sidewinder and Fancy Free" Agabuckaluk, who worked with more bands than there were stars at MGM, shrugged. "I got a job lined up as a garbage collector," he wryly commented, "so at least I'll be keeping my hand in the rhythmic noise making."
What has these, and many other musicians so spooked? If you guessed Artificial Intelligence, you would be right. (If you guessed rampaging zombie tortoises, you need to get out more.)
Paul McCartney used AI to isolate John Lennon's voice from a recording made almost 48 years ago, and used the result as the basis of the song "Crisps Kid." As you might imagine from the lyrics, Lennon was reciting a shopping list:
"Gonna buy me some crispsYou get the idea. The song has 27 verses and runs just under 15 minutes. The guitar riff is catchy, though, and the vocal harmonies in the chorus (which consists of the line "Where'd I put my wallet?" repeated a dozen times) are exquisite.
"Crisps Kid" wouldn't have been out of place on The White Album.
"I can't compete with new Beatles songs. Nobody can!" Agabuckaluk said. "Would you like fries with that?"
It's just one song. Why all the angst over a single song?
"Wow. I always knew arts journalists were thick," Fernwilter insulted, "but you really are a plank apart, aren't you?"
He explained that there were thousands of hours of recordings of Lennon's voice. Interviews. Messages left on phone answering machines. Being goofy while the tape was rolling in the studio. Get enough of that, strain it through an AI and you could have new Beatles material forever.
Oh.
"Damn right, oh," Fernwilter said. "Would you like to supersize that beverage?"
"It was just a lark," McCartney responded. "You know, a way of connecting to John one last time. There really is no need for any musician to panic."
"Oh, I don't know," mused Sony executive Alexander Titmouse. "As a long-time fan of the Beatles – I discovered them almost three weeks ago – I have to say that I would look forward to as much new music from the band as I could get my hands on."
He is not alone. "Crisps Kid" has racked up an astonishing seven gazillion pre-sales.
"Oh, my," McCartney responded. "Looks like I owe the music community an apology. A big one. Give us a couple of days to write some music to accompany it, will you?"
I will allow that there is something unnerving about Lennon being able to hit notes on "Crisps Kid" that he was never able to hit in real life. It's like resurrecting your favourite auto mechanic and asking him to give you a full body massage. In and of itself, the resurrection is mind-blowing; the fact that the resurrectee comes with new skills ensures that if you had any still intact mind-bits, they would be blown, too.
"You don't give John enough credit," McCartney disagreed. "He would have gotten to those notes in the end. He just didn't have enough...trust me. He would have gotten to those notes in the end."
There are rumours that the b-side to "Crisps Kid" will be a song called "Bigger Than God."
"Be afraid," Fotzpatrick whispered. "Be very afraid...with fries and a supersized drink!"