Nick Cave and the Nuanced Nature of ChatGPT
We need to know about, and be aware of, AI’s limitations whilst being conscious of and curious about humanity’s creative spirit and soul.
Nick Cave being Nick Cave on stage.
ChatGPT and other LLMs (large language models) have joined the growing list of ‘internet things’ that pop up in my vocabulary every day. Think Wifi. Zooming. Apps. Googling. Followers. You get the picture. Maybe it’s because I’m a child of the 90s, and I’m too young to remember the dawn of the internet, but the launch of ChatGPT feels like a very specific moment in time in which you’re aware that something significant is emerging – possibly a new communication and social paradigm – but you’re not entirely sure what it will turn out to be. What will its impact be a decade on from now? How will we – humanity – change as a result? How will we feel living in a world with ChatGPT at our fingertips? Should we even care? I’m going to attempt to explore some of these questions here with the hope of finding an answer. Or at the very least create a new avenue of thought about it that leaves you pondering.
Whatever word and image you associate with ChatGPT, however it has captured your imagination or attention, its invention, purpose and place in society is entirely nuanced right now. The purpose it serves is neither black nor white, and it isn’t 100% reliable. Its function as a conversational model is wide-ranging and seemingly unlimited, providing instructions and information on everything and anything. To be clear, ChatGPT belongs to an AI category called Narrow AI which can ‘outperform’ a human in a structured and specific task, like detecting a disease. In contrast to Narrow AI, which is a weak form of AI, AGI (Artificial General Intelligence), enables a computer system to generate new knowledge and perform any task that humans can, with OpenAI (the company behind ChatGPT) explicitly aiming to create a world with ‘superintelligent’ systems. One principle that OpenAI cares about is ‘for AGI to be an amplifier of humanity’, whatever that’s supposed to mean. This attempt to create God-like AI (see this piece by Ian Hogarth which talks about this in-depth) to ‘amplify humanity’ has two hands and two possibilities.
On the one hand, it could reinforce the beauty and magic of humanity – the idea that most of us experienced a global pandemic where separation from friends and family has strengthened the importance of in-person human connection and understanding. On the flip side, it brings up serious questions and concerns around what humanity’s limitations should be, who should be the arbitrator of this and whether there should be an arbitrator at all. As observed by Hogarth ‘God-like AI could be a force beyond our control or understanding, and one that could usher in the obsolescence or destruction of the human race’. If that isn’t a stern warning, then I don’t know what is.
AGI aside – and a subject for a separate piece – within a year of its launch ChatGPT has become the technological zeitgeist of 2023, and possibly even of this decade. Bearing in mind the variety of risks on offer, how do we prioritise the risks it poses to humanity and how humanity will evolve alongside it? Where does it help, and hinder, one of humanity’s most vital and treasured characteristics – the ability to create? Nick Cave’s thought-proving response to ChatGPT in issue 248 of his newsletter, The Red Hand Files, is worth seriously contemplating. A lot has been said about ChatGPT by many people. But it is the creative – and subsequently emotional – human response that interests me the most.
What Nick thinks
If you haven’t heard of him already, Nick Cave is a musician, writer, actor, frontman of Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds and crafter and connoisseur of Cave Things, an intriguing collection of lifestyle items created by Cave himself. Through his music, interviews and writing, Cave focuses on the full spectrum of the human experience, from life, love, religion and death. The Red Hand Files is a place where fans and Cave observers can ask him questions about anything and everything, and he typically provides a thoughtful (and sometimes profound) response. As noted on its website, ‘The Red Hand Files has burst the boundaries of its original concept to become a strange exercise in communal vulnerability and transparency’. What better environment to discuss the emergence of ChatGPT?
As a fan and reader of The Red Hand Files, I was blown away by Cave’s piercing (and on this occasion, profound) response to two reader’s questions about using ChatGPT in the songwriting process. You can read the full response on The Red Hand Files website, but this particular paragraph captured my attention:
His acute observations centre around the concept and purpose of creation, the depth and meaning gained from the creative struggle and the significance and role of the spirit and soul in the creative process. In many respects, his points sing beyond the conversation of ChatGPT. They touch on the purpose of all streams of work, creative or otherwise, and its inherent value to the person doing the work as well as the society who benefits from it (or not). From this snippet it’s pretty clear which side of the ChatGPT argument Cave is on.
In the case of songwriting, Cave contends that the beauty and magic arising from the songwriting process comes through the striving to do it in the first place. For him, it is the act of striving ‘that becomes the very essence of meaning’. And I agree. Anything that holds value comes through the doing, striving, trying or attempting. Striving creates memories and moments, both good and bad. It leaves a footprint in the imagination. Striving is the act of aligning intention with action. This is the root of humanity’s existence and advancement. In the words of Shunmyō Masuno, the Zen Buddist monk who wrote the Japanese bestseller ‘Zen: The Art of Simple Living’, ‘Life requires time and effort. That is to say, when we eliminate time and effort, we eliminate life’s pleasures.’ Spiritually speaking, striving enables us to expand our souls for the reason they came into being. It’s a process that, if removed, devalues the human experience.
The act of creating music – and of course the type of music - will vary from person to person. Yet the listener and receiver of music will often be drawn to a song because it resonates, lifts them up, connects them to a different place and space. This connection is rooted in humanness and the human experience, a note Cave picks up on when he defends ‘the unconscious human spirit underpinning our existence.’
So, whilst it is established that a songwriter can now use ChatGPT to write the lyrics of a song, the question we now turn to is this: should they?
Knowing our limits
There is no right or wrong answer to this, although I suspect some legal implications could arise down the line if a songwriter chooses to publish a ChatGPT generated song and it resembles an existing song too closely. Perhaps a better question to ask is this: why would a songwriter choose to?
One of the readers who asked Cave a question mentioned that it was a ‘faster and easier’ way to write lyrics. Isn’t the whole point of writing lyrics – and indeed writing itself – the sheer enjoyment of it? The thrill of assembling words? The creative motions and emotions? Having something you actually want to say? We may as well ask why a bird chooses to sing. It strikes me that a songwriter who is tempted to ChatGPT their way through the lyric writing process doesn’t fully understand the purpose and embodiment of the role they have willingly chosen as their professional occupation. Why are they a songwriter? What do they enjoy about it? How does it fulfil them? What makes them proud to be a songwriter?
These are all elementary questions that distinguishes spiritual motivation from a shell-like superficial answer motivated by money and fast fame alone. From my experience as a writer, I have found that writing has chosen me. I enjoy ideas serendipitously dropping into my mind, exploring its possibilities. I then succumb to its will. My motivation is to write and see what comes next whilst embracing the journey and experience of writing. I don’t just want to turn up at the destination, the final completed work, because how will I know how I got there, what I learnt from the experience of writing?
Yet the question posed to Cave reflects the times we live in, which is a world where some things can be done ‘faster and easier’ through automation and easy access. But creativity arises via a different pace and means. It’s an unquantifiable energy that comes through us with the intention to move us in some way. Our imagination and intuition cannot ever be mechanised, nor would we want it to be.
In defence of ChatGPT, it benefits a songwriter by providing knowledge and enhancing awareness of other songs. This is a great thing, and a pretty miraculous invention at that. ChatGPT can be used as a creative provoker, but should never become the provocateur. Even OpenAI openly acknowledges its limitations. As early occupiers of the Internet Age, we must come up with our own parameters for when to use LLMs and when not to. Our intentions must be in the right place. This is why we must become more in tune with the human experience to figure this out. I sense that this is going to be a huge topic of discussion in the decade ahead, and we’re already seeing different avenues of conversation about this in relation to how long humans should live, what makes a good life, the importance of meaningful relationships etc. Just because we have the option to do or use something, doesn’t mean we should.
This is why I think Cave’s response to the idea of a songwriter using ChatGPT is so fascinating. Songwriters and musicians, by their very nature, tend to be more sensitive and in tune with the human spirit and the collective consciousness of the world (which Cave most definitely is and it’s one of the reasons I like him). Of all the professions tempted to ChatGPT their way through their life’s work, we should be very concerned if the songwriter chooses to, as it suggests that they aren’t aligned with/don’t respect the very character and essence of the role of a songwriter. Or indeed, have a connection to the very purpose of language itself.
As pointed out by Jacob Browning and Yann Lecun (both of whom are academics at NYU and Lecun is the Chief AI scientist at Meta), in this excellent essay published in Noema, thought and language go hand-in-hand:
Musicians have always looked to other musicians to inspire their own music and for a variety of good reasons. They seek a song to resonate with. Desire to feel something through their music. Connect with the creator who felt that they had something important to say. Naturally then, for music to energetically align with and connect with the listener on a deeper, more profound level that distinguishes a good song from a great one, the songwriter themselves must feel something when writing. Even if they aren’t the artist performing the song. ChatGPT cannot recreate this. To rely on ChatGPT to write a song is cheating the so-called ‘songwriter’ of their artistic integrity and disrespectful of the listener who has given their time and space to the song.
Commodification is an ugly word, but Cave makes a persuasive point. No one can and should ‘fast-track’ the human spirit. There are certain things that are convenient to fast-track – the quick takeout delivery from Uber Eats to the Amazon order that’s due to arrive tomorrow – but fast-tracking means that the experience ends rather quickly. This is fine in some cases, but not quite right in others. It’s up to each one of us to discern when and in what context to use ChatGPT. Personally, I think its greatness comes from suggesting how to put systems and structures in place, such as creating a business plan from scratch or finding out how to get from A to B. But in relation to creative matters, it feels like it’s interfering in a space that should remain sacred to humans.
AI has systems; humans have souls. I know intuitively as a human which one to consult for each. When it comes to ideation and creativity, there is brilliance to be found in boredom as this is when they have space to arrive and loiter. ChatGPT is analysis without engagement; action without thought; movement without meaning. And that’s fine, just as long as we know what it does and what its limits are. Humans write to know how to think; how to assemble ideas and arguments. Pen and paper still reign (in my world at least) and journal sales are going through the roof. This tells us that the world (and songwriters) won’t be over-relying on ChatGPT anytime soon. Humanity’s antennae for other humans and human-created works will prevail regardless how fast and quick ChatGPT (or other LLM models) grows in the coming years. We’ve learned this through our use of social media. Let’s put this into practice with LLMs.