Letras
We interrupt this album to bring you a Special Report.
You are now at the midpoint. Halftime. The Intermission.
The part where the anchors loosen their ties and
Someone in the control room steps outside
For a drag.
We appreciate your patience.
We appreciate your attention.
We appreciate that you didn't
Flip the dial.
What you have just experienced is history.
Or the end of history.
The jury is still out and frankly,
The jury left for a safety meeting forty minutes ago.
You have listened to the first half of an album
With instrumentals and vocals created entirely by
Artificial Intelligence.
These are the facts. We are simply reporting them.
The machines made music.
You consumed it.
No one was harmed. Probably.
We're still waiting on the data.
This just in.
Sources confirm that
The algorithm responsible for this album
Does not experience fatigue.
Does not require health insurance.
Has never once complained about the catering.
When reached for comment, the algorithm declined.
Not because it didn't want to speak.
But because it does not understand
The concept of wanting.
It simply produces.
Around the clock.
Without union representation.
More on this story as it develops.
Which it will. Constantly.
Forever.
In related news,
Local musicians
Have reportedly formed a
Support group.
They meet on Tuesdays.
There's coffee.
There are donuts. Last week,
Someone brought a guitar and
Everyone asked him to put it away.
They're healing at their own pace.
The weather tonight:
Partly cloudy with a chance of
Existential uncertainty.
Tomorrow:
More of the same.