"Is it A.I., or allergy season?"

Drug-induced relief meets digital mischief in pollen-powered parody

https://youtu.be/XSgl_9h4Xn4?si=vdz3FX7-gFw4ockZ

I love nature, but nature hates me.

Don't get me started on mosquitoes. A single blood-sucker within a block's radius will somehow sniff out my sweet French essence, then leave on my skin a multi-star review for all its friends to buzz about.

Trees and flowers are just as bad. Beautiful; inspiring; awesome even — yes, of course. But organic torture just the same. The joys of allergies inspired me to write the following verses at some point in 2022 (probably spring):

Nostrils like giant highways

let spring snot flow for days.

Allergies tickle, prickle and itch.

You cough and you sneeze, and your eyes twitch.

Can't make music in this condition.

Your brain turns to mush with medication.

Cottony thoughts dampen ambition

and any hope for artistic expression.

I just want to go to sleep,

and snore my way to oblivion.

Since then, artificial intelligence has leapt out of science fiction books to become part of our life, for better or worse.

That inspired me to develop the original idea into a song that would compare the cottony mental state of drug-induced allergy relief to the lazy thinking that is bound to result from too much reliance on A.I. And to drive the irony further, I'd use A.I. to generate the music and singer. To that end, I turned to Suno.

Much like Midjourney and Leonardo for images, it's amazing that Suno works at all; the engineering behind those tools is incredible. Artistically, Suno is a roll of the dice, which again is no surprise.

Sound quality is uneven. It starts out good for a few bars, deteriorates with a kind of shimmer, then it's good again, bad again, and so on. Some styles of music work better than others, but overall compositions tend to be repetitive. As you use it, you'll come to recognize the patterns the A.I. relies on. But of course, that's today. By this time next year, none of those notes are likely to apply.

Although I don't plan to use Suno for any of my instrumental work, I did take advantage of my one-month subscription to create another song. I wrote the lyrics for "J'adore Les Croissants" ("I love croissants") as a tongue-in-cheek homage to French folk singer Francis Cabrel. The melody turned out surprisingly catchy, so much so that I want to record it for real. Now I "just" need to learn to play guitar.

"Allergy Season" took longer to come together than "Croissants," partly because I had to refine the lyrics many times to fit them within a musical framework; and partly because the A.I. wasn't hitting the vibe I had in mind. But eventually I got there.

So, grab a tissue, and enjoy this musical sneeze:

"Is it A.I., or allergy season?"

An A.I.-generated singer performs A.I.-generated music based on lyrics generated by my silly human brain.

[VERSE]

My stuffy nose can’t take in air,

But snot just flows — it doesn’t care.

Allergies tickle, they prickle and itch.

Spring has come to make me its bitch.

Thoughts running on auto fill.

These blue pills are just too chill.

Pollen loads malware in my eyes

Am I here or am I digitized?

[BRIDGE]

I cough and I sneeze; it’s a mind glitch,

Can’t trust myself or my decisions.

My brain is blank, and slow as pitch,

A mental case of constipation.

[CHORUS]

Is it A-I … or allergy season?

Is it A-I … or allergy season?

Is it A-I … or allergy season?

Is it A-I … or allergy season?

[VERSE]

Tear ducts flood like monsoon rains,

My eyes locked in nature’s chains.

I sneezed so hard, I shook my brain,

Now my thoughts circle the drain.

All I want is go to sleep,

Snore myself to oblivion.

Let my dreams take a wild leap,

But all I feel is depression.

[BRIDGE]

I cough and I sneeze; it’s a mind glitch,

Can’t trust myself or my decisions.

My brain short-circuits like a light switch.

Forget about my ambitions.

[CHORUS]

Is it A-I … or allergy season?

Is it A-I … or allergy season?

Is it A-I … or allergy season?

Is it A-I … or allergy season?

[VERSE]

Why does air turn me into goo?

I bruised a rib from a huge atchoo.

Survived COVID and even the flu,

But ragweed makes me feel like poo.

My thoughts upload at half the speed,

Auto correct fills all my needs.

Am I conscious, or just taking space?

Reboot me now, kick me in the face.

[BRIDGE]

I cough and I sneeze; it’s a mind glitch,

Can’t trust myself or my decisions.

My brain is rotting in a ditch,

I give up on self-expression.

[CHORUS + FINALE]

Is it A.I. … or allergy season?

Is it A.I. … or allergy season?

Is it A.I. … or allergy season?

Is it A.I. … or allergy season?