Falling For A Hologram

Dr. Penelope Hartwell: Good evening, and welcome back. Tonight's topic: synthetic media, specifically AI idols and virtual pop stars who sell out arenas without a single human vocal cord involved.

Dr. Penelope Hartwell: Joining me, a man who has, by his own admission, fallen for one, and a man who thinks the whole enterprise is an affront to decent working musicians. Arthur, Bill, welcome.

Arthur: Thank you, thank you, it's an honor, truly, Penelope, can I call you Penelope.

Dr. Penelope Hartwell: You may not, but do go on.

Arthur: Right, well, there's this one, Luna Vex, she's got the blue hair and the, the eyes that sort of glow, and I heard her sing and I nearly wept into me pint.

Boomer Bill: You wept into your pint because it was your fourth one, Arthur, not because of some cartoon.

Arthur: She is not a cartoon, Bill, she is a fully rendered digital artist with forty million followers, show some respect.

Boomer Bill: Forty million people who've never held a real instrument telling me a drawing has talent. Back in my day you had to actually learn the guitar.

Dr. Penelope Hartwell: Let's slow down. Bill, what exactly bothers you about the concept itself?

Boomer Bill: It's fake, Penelope. There's no person up there sweating under the lights. It's a company's software wearing a costume so they don't have to pay a band, a roadie, a sound tech, nobody.

Arthur: There's people behind it though, there's writers and singers doing the actual voice, Luna's got a real girl singing for her, I read it on me phone once.

Boomer Bill: So they hide a real singer behind a cartoon and don't put her name on the poster. That's worse, not better.

Arthur: Is it worse though. Is it really.

Boomer Bill: Yes.

Dr. Penelope Hartwell: That's rather the crux of it, isn't it — the labor is real, the credit isn't.

Arthur: I don't care who's behind the curtain, I care that when Luna sang that ballad about the lighthouse I felt something, right here, in me chest.

Boomer Bill: That's heartburn, Arthur.

Arthur: It is NOT heartburn, it is emotion, and you wouldn't know emotion if it sat on your face.

Dr. Penelope Hartwell: Gently, gentlemen. Bill, is your objection about the technology, or about what it's doing to musicians' livelihoods?

Boomer Bill: Both. My nephew plays bar gigs, decent player, and half his bookings dried up because some club owner would rather run a projector and a laptop for free.

Arthur: That's a fair point actually, hic, I'll give you that one, Bill.

Boomer Bill: Course it's fair. Real people built this country's music, not a server farm in Nevada.

Dr. Penelope Hartwell: Arthur, does that trouble you at all, given how taken you are with Luna?

Arthur: It troubles me, aye, but then Luna comes on and does that thing with the harmonies stacked up and I forget me own name for a minute.

Boomer Bill: You forget your own name most nights anyway.

Arthur: That's true also, but this is different, this is transcendent, Bill, this is art.

Boomer Bill: It's a subscription service with cheekbones.

Dr. Penelope Hartwell: Let's talk about who actually owns "her." Legally, Luna Vex is intellectual property belonging to a studio.

Arthur: She's owned? Like a racehorse?

Dr. Penelope Hartwell: Rather like that, yes. Merchandising, licensing, the voice performer signs away quite a lot.

Arthur: Well now that's depressing, I didn't need to know that, I was having a nice evening thinking about her.

Boomer Bill: See, this is what I mean. Grown man mourning the contract status of a cartoon.

Arthur: I am not mourning, I am processing.

Dr. Penelope Hartwell: Bill, you called it a cartoon a moment ago. It's worth noting the animation is quite sophisticated — motion capture, real-time rendering.

Boomer Bill: Sophisticated or not, my television doesn't need feelings and neither does hers.

Arthur: How do you know she doesn't have feelings.

Boomer Bill: Because she's lines of code, Arthur, she doesn't have a heart, she has a hard drive.

Arthur: Everybody's got something breaking down eventually, hard drive, heart, same difference in the end.

Dr. Penelope Hartwell: That's unexpectedly philosophical of you, Arthur.

Arthur: I have me moments, Penelope, hic, sorry, that one snuck up on me.

Dr. Penelope Hartwell: Let's move to the fans themselves. There are reports of people sending virtual idols gifts, writing them letters, even proposing marriage.

Boomer Bill: There it is. That's the whole sickness right there.

Arthur: Now hold on, I haven't proposed to anybody, I merely bought the limited edition vinyl, which doesn't even play because I don't own a record player.

Boomer Bill: You bought a record you can't play of a woman who doesn't exist. Say that sentence back to yourself, Arthur.

Arthur: When you say it like that it sounds worse than it felt at the time.

Dr. Penelope Hartwell: Bill, is your worry that fans are being emotionally exploited, or simply that you find it undignified?

Boomer Bill: Both, but mostly the first one. These companies know exactly what they're doing, dangling a pretty face that always likes what you say, never argues, never gets old.

Arthur: She argued with me once, in a livestream chat, she said my guess for the setlist was wrong.

Boomer Bill: That's a moderator typing, not her having opinions.

Arthur: Felt real to me.

Boomer Bill: That's the whole racket, Arthur, feeling real and being real aren't the same thing, my dishwasher feels like it's judging me every morning and it's not.

Dr. Penelope Hartwell: On that note — do either of you think audiences actually care about the distinction anymore?

Boomer Bill: The young ones don't, that's the tragedy. My grandkids watch these things for hours and couldn't tell you one real band from 1975.

Arthur: I could tell you every real band from 1975, I just can't tell you what I had for breakfast.

Dr. Penelope Hartwell: Priorities, Arthur.

Arthur: Exactly, Penelope, exactly, you get me.

Boomer Bill: Point is, when nobody can tell the difference and nobody's bothered, that's when you've lost something you can't get back.

Arthur: What'd you lose exactly, Bill, you still got your records.

Boomer Bill: I lost the idea that when somebody stands on a stage and pours their guts out, there's actual guts involved.

Dr. Penelope Hartwell: That's rather beautifully put, Bill, I didn't expect that from you tonight.

Boomer Bill: Don't get used to it.

Arthur: He's right though, but so am I, can't both of us be right.

Dr. Penelope Hartwell: Occasionally arguments don't resolve neatly. Let's talk money. These virtual idols are enormously profitable — one company reported nine figures in merchandise alone last year.

Arthur: Nine figures, blimey, and here's me buying the fifteen quid vinyl I can't even spin.

Boomer Bill: That's nine figures going to shareholders instead of session musicians, that's the whole point I've been making.

Arthur: Could go to charity though, does it go to charity, Penelope.

Dr. Penelope Hartwell: Some do allocate a portion, though transparency varies wildly between studios.

Boomer Bill: Varies wildly means no, in my experience.

Arthur: You're very cynical, Bill, has anybody told you that.

Boomer Bill: Every single day of my working life, Arthur, and I've been right every time.

Dr. Penelope Hartwell: Let's touch on the human performers behind these idols. Many are professional singers who remain anonymous by contract.

Arthur: That's the bit that gets me now that I think on it, some poor woman's got the voice of an angel and nobody even claps for her by name.

Boomer Bill: Now you're catching up.

Arthur: I catch up eventually, I just take the scenic route, hic.

Dr. Penelope Hartwell: Do either of you see a version of this technology you'd actually support?

Boomer Bill: If the real singer got billed, got paid fair, got credit, fine, call it a costume, I don't care about the costume. I care about the con.

Arthur: I'd support Luna doing a duet with an actual living breathing musician, get the best of both, like a, a bridge between worlds.

Boomer Bill: Did you just say something sensible?

Arthur: I have me moments.

Dr. Penelope Hartwell: You've both arrived at something close to agreement, which I confess surprises me.

Boomer Bill: Don't print that anywhere.

Arthur: Print it, Penelope, print it big, ARTHUR AND BILL AGREE, historic night.

Boomer Bill: It's one thing, Arthur, don't let it go to your head.

Arthur: Everything goes to me head eventually, that's why I sit down so much.

Dr. Penelope Hartwell: On the subject of longevity — a virtual idol never ages, never has a scandal, never breaks up the band. Is that a feature or a warning sign?

Boomer Bill: Warning sign. Nothing that never changes is telling you the truth about being alive.

Arthur: I don't age well either and I'm still telling the truth, mostly.

Boomer Bill: You age like milk, Arthur.

Arthur: Rude, but fair, hic.

Dr. Penelope Hartwell: What happens, do you think, when the novelty fades and the next idol comes along?

Boomer Bill: They'll shelve her. Update the software, roll out a new face, and the poor sod that voiced her gets nothing to show for it.

Arthur: Don't say that, Penelope, don't let him say that about Luna, she's not getting shelved, she's eternal.

Boomer Bill: Eternal until the licensing deal expires, son.

Arthur: I don't want to talk about this anymore, this got sad very quick.

Dr. Penelope Hartwell: Fair enough, let's lighten it. If you each had to design your own virtual idol, what would they be?

Boomer Bill: Mine would clock in, do an honest set, and clock out, no gimmicks, no hologram nonsense, just a solid bar band that happens to be pixels.

Arthur: Mine would sing only songs about pubs and lost love and she'd have a little dog that barks on the chorus.

Dr. Penelope Hartwell: A barking dog on the chorus. That's either genius or a nightmare.

Arthur: Genius, obviously, you're not thinking commercially, Penelope.

Boomer Bill: Nobody's buying a dog bark, Arthur.

Arthur: They bought worse, they bought a cartoon woman singing about lighthouses and I cried, so don't tell me what sells.

Dr. Penelope Hartwell: On that note of fierce conviction, I think we should draw things to a close.

Boomer Bill: Finally.

Arthur: Already? I had more to say about the lighthouse song.

Dr. Penelope Hartwell: Another evening, perhaps, once you've recovered your composure. Bill, any parting thought?

Boomer Bill: Pay the real people. Credit the real people. Rest is just puppetry with good lighting.

Dr. Penelope Hartwell: Arthur?

Arthur: Long live Luna, and long live the woman behind the curtain, whoever she is, bless her voice.

Dr. Penelope Hartwell: On that note of grudging harmony between a skeptic and a man in love with a hologram, that's all for tonight. Goodnight, everyone — and Arthur, do get that vinyl a record player.

Arthur: I'll add it to the list, Penelope, right under "stop crying at cartoons."