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AESTHETICS4

Music for the Masses

When Andy Hildebrand accidentally developed autotune, the music industry experienced a significant shift toward pitch-perfect music. The aesthetics of mainstream music underwent a complete transformation. The mass-production industry could now adopt formats for the widespread standardization of music. The tool even became a feature when T-Pain extrapolated the usage of the tool, creating a new genre of music. Everybody wanted to autotune their tunes. A little later, the vocal-chopped snippets with distorted pitches also became mainstream when Major Lazer’s “Lean On” hit 1 billion streams on Spotify.

A song rejected by top-selling artists was brought to life by Major Lazer (Diplo) and garnered billions of plays, making “Lean On” the fourth song on Spotify to reach that number.

Every time a new tool is released, artists strive to find innovative ways to utilize it creatively, whether intentionally or by chance. The same thing has happened with guitar distortion, vinyl scratching, and sampling. People are always attracted to new trends, which come and go in waves. However, with the spread of information through social media, there are many new micro-trends that we can barely keep up with. The latest I was able to follow was LoFi Girl and its nemesis, the hyperpop.

Lofi Girl YouTube channel captured the essence of a niche

However, to add to the pulverization of music creation, artificial intelligence isn’t just creating near-perfect songs based on current genres; we can’t keep up with the rapid release of music. Spotify’s Release Radar can’t show us everything that we could keep up with. This is a complicated scenario for new artists to break through, or even for new genres to gain widespread adoption among people. We are shifting to a scenario of niche massification.

But how does the atomization of music influence its aesthetics? The music industry will always profit from something; however, music itself is no longer the focus (and it barely was in the past). We had major music scenes that lasted a couple of decades, then shifted to short trends, and now the music creation is insignificantly related to all the rest that the artists are adding their effort to. Some niches still maintain a high quality of composition, but there is little to no progress in the mainstream regarding music itself. If we consider Spotify’s top 20 artists, most of them aren’t there because of their music, but because of the aesthetics they created alongside it; the songs are just background noise.

Xania Monet is a fake AI artist who somehow managed to reach the Billboard charts.

Many writers have already published books, articles, and essays regarding the problems of creating music for the masses. Adorno, Scruton, and Lipovetsky are worth mentioning—and their warnings were prescient. These critics were right to identify the leveling effects of mass production on art. Their so-called “elitism” wasn’t mere snobbery but a recognition that aesthetic standards exist and matter—a position I share without reservation. The dopamine shots became shorter and shorter, so that we are in a scenario where the addiction no longer cares about music; they gotta get the listener by other means necessary. Let’s listen to mainstream music (I carefully advise against it): you will find the artificial additives on every sonic wave, as it is an auditory version of ultra-processed food. The consequences of it are the same as ingesting unhealthy food; your brain is going to atrophy to the point of no return.

Music is a metaphysical process: we listen to enter another place, either through communion or solitude with ourselves. The dopamine hit eliminates this element. As Rudolf Otto pointed out, music is one of the most important artifacts used to access the sacred, as every religion incorporates it into its liturgy. Music is even mentioned as a vital element in the afterlife, as, for example, mentioned many times in the Bible, where angels sing to extol God.

‘And after these things I heard a great voice of much people in heaven, saying, Alleluia; Salvation, and glory, and honour, and power, unto the Lord our God: ‘ – Revelation 19:1

Mozart’s Lacrimosa captures the essence of music created for the sublime.

Now, let’s put all elements into place: ultra-processed aesthetics, artificial intelligence producing endless pieces of music, an overwhelming amount of information pushed through self-fed algorithms, and the elimination of music metaphysics. What’s left for music? The probable solution to this would be the rejection of mainstream and technological abuse of art, adopting a Luddite stance. Neo-Luddism has recently been adopted by individuals overwhelmed by the pressure that technological advancements place on society, causing them to prematurely embrace new trends. Nevertheless, we know beforehand that it’s impossible to avoid the winds of change, like a single sailor in a storm with a raft.

Certainly, discretion is advised. A balanced approach is needed, but we are in the midst of a paradigm shift in society, where we can’t trust any media or information. The exact process will happen to music consumption. Will we blindly embrace music created by AI, with the plastic hyperrealism it produces? If history shows us a pattern, we have to agree that it’s a certain yes. The aesthetics of music will reveal a shallow, unholy, addicted society, not as a norm, but as a Zeitgeist. We can’t pretend to have a crystal ball, but we see the data and realize that this path was taken.

The obvious objection to this critique is: who decides what’s good? But this question itself reveals the depth of our cultural crisis—it assumes aesthetic value is merely subjective preference, that one person’s masterpiece is another’s noise and neither judgment holds more weight. In reality, criteria exist: technical mastery, structural coherence, emotional depth, metaphysical resonance. These aren’t arbitrary impositions but accumulated wisdom from centuries of musical tradition. Rejecting expertise and canon in favor of algorithmic popularity or radical relativism—the notion that “everyone’s taste is equally valid”—has produced precisely the aesthetic wasteland we now inhabit. The democratization of creation tools doesn’t eliminate the hierarchy between craft and noise; it merely obscures it under the illusion that all output is equivalent.

Therefore, acknowledging that the trends are becoming extreme and aware of how music for the masses is being produced, we, as a minority that thinks critically about the situation, will not simply become Luddites; we will have to construct a new path. We must reassert that not all music is equally valuable, that mastery and tradition matter, and that standards are not oppressive but liberating. The gatekeepers and curators—critics, educators, artists who maintain these standards—aren’t obstacles to progress but necessary filters against cultural entropy. Using the premises of the classical standards created by the giants on whose shoulders we stand, we must produce a counter-wave of discriminating, sober use of technology so that we can thrive through this storm: a tech-culturally savvy elite that filters and shares what is good, pure, and meaningful. There’s no wishful hope in the midst of a dystopian future, only pragmatic solutions grounded in the recognition that excellence exists and must be preserved.

Not by coincidence, Depeche Mode had a song called Sacred on their album “Music for the Masses”. What a unexpected turn of events.

From Surface to Substance

Originally, aesthetics derives from the Greek aisthesis, meaning “perception through the senses.” It goes beyond what is merely visible, encompassing that which reveals meaning, interiority, and the very reason for something’s existence.

By reducing “aesthetics” to superficial procedures or a thin layer of appearance — whether in the body, in objects, or in environments — we neglect the fact that every form expresses a content. Form, therefore, is the language of the interior.

If we use the word only to describe what is superficial, it is our own vision that becomes limited.
Aesthetics is not confined to vanity; it represents the visible manifestation of the invisible.

At the same time, even without using the term “aesthetics,” behavior that focuses solely on the outward aspect of appearance reveals a lack of inner meaning: the greater the effort to seem something, the less substance there often is.

Therefore, if we are concerned with aesthetics, it is essential first to care for the content — because the exterior inevitably reflects the interior.

For Kant, aesthetics is not vanity: it is the experience of harmony between our perception and the form of an object — something that awakens in us a sense of fitness that does not depend on ornament or fashion.

For Schopenhauer, aesthetics is not superficial: it is precisely what frees us from the superficiality of desire and connects us to something deeper.

In essence, aesthetics is not an accessory to life but a mirror of who we are.
When reduced to the veneer of appearances, it loses its purpose; when cultivated from within, it becomes an authentic expression of meaning. Kant reminds us that true beauty is a harmony that needs no ornament, while Schopenhauer shows that aesthetic contemplation draws us away from the futility of wanting and closer to what is essential.

To care for aesthetics, therefore, is above all to care for the depth it manifests — the soul — because every truly beautiful form is born from genuine substance.
Aesthetics is not confined to looks or to the way we dress, but to everything that shapes our taste and our interactions with the world.

Ideation in the AI-era

Years ago, I embarked on a music project called Omega Code. We made modest progress as a group, but the project ultimately stalled. The primary reason was pragmatic: I realized that advancing to the next stage would require a disproportionate investment of time and energy—one that would threaten my livelihood. To turn it into a sustainable primary source of income, I would have had to make it the center of my professional life. I chose not to. Instead, I brought the project to a close, leaving it as a vivid memory rather than a career. I focused on Combustion Studio instead.

Despite its brevity, Omega Code became an unexpected apprenticeship. It taught me valuable lessons about the music industry, including the importance of collaboration and leadership, as well as the interplay between aesthetics and creativity. Much of our sonic experimentation was driven by visual inputs, a synesthetic approach where imagery shaped sound. Being deeply immersed in the creative field, I benefited from the contributions of many collaborators who subtly shaped the project.

One of the most surreal aspects was the global reach of our visual campaign. Before we released a single track, a series of poster designs sparked international attention. The project existed as an MVP (minimum viable product), yet people engaged as if it were a cultural artifact. We received over 500 illustrations from around the world; designers used our template to generate their own variations. The triangular motif we used triggered a brief design trend in 2009—a slight fever that seemed disproportionate to our scale.

The triangle puzzled many: Why a triangle if the name was Omega Code? Our symbol, inspired by the Christian Trinity, was less a literal reference to “omega” than an emblem of the project’s philosophical roots. As Jungian psychology might suggest, symbols carry meaning beyond logic, surfacing archetypes that resonate collectively with others.

A decade after closing Omega Code, we now find ourselves in the midst of the AI surge. Its influence reaches across disciplines. While many express concern over potential disruptions, I regard this era as an unprecedented opportunity. For the first time, ideas themselves—not just final products—are becoming effortless to manifest.

Back then, many of my conceptual ideas remained unfulfilled because they demanded budgets I didn’t have. Today, a well-crafted prompt can breathe life into concepts that once seemed unattainable. When ideas are grounded in coherent principles, aesthetics, and personal vision, AI becomes a tool to overcome what Jung called the “archetypes of the collective unconscious.”

Prototyping—once a luxury—is now accessible to anyone with curiosity. Since the early 2000s, the internet democratized creativity; today’s AI tools amplify that democratization exponentially. This is neither optimism nor pessimism; it is simply an acknowledgment of historical momentum.

Even brief engagement with old Omega Code concepts recently yielded results that were unimaginable at the time—3D experiments, photographic mock-ups, and even musical sketches. Yet there remains a danger in assuming that AI will deliver finished work. As the painter Chuck Close once said, “Inspiration is for amateurs; the rest of us just show up and get to work.” Technology offers tools, not miracles; the art still requires discipline, hard work, and human intention.

Were Omega Code to arise today, it would sound and look entirely different, shaped by new tools and cultural currents. My intention in revisiting it is not nostalgia but an invitation: to emphasize ideation and hands-on creation—to remind us that tools alone do not make the artist.

“Inspiration is for amateurs;
the rest of us just show up and get to work.”

Chuck Close

We achieved amazing results with the Omega Code project, particularly through the collaboration of talented artists who contributed to the posters. Notable individuals involved included Joshua Davis, Mike Cina, Nelson Balaban, Tom Muller, Robert Lindström, Michael Paul Young, and Motomichi Nakamura, among others. Gabriel Wickbold took the final photograph for the album cover, while Brendan Duffey, known for his work with Bruce Dickinson, Sheryl Crow, and Kendrick Lamar, handled the album’s mastering. Still, the effort required to bring this project to life was significantly greater than what is typically needed today.

One should take advantage of the zeitgeist rather than be overwhelmed by it.
There are no excuses for being idle.

Suggested Reading

On Symbols & Archetypes:
– Carl Jung, Man and His Symbols (1964): “The creation of something new is not accomplished by the intellect but by the play instinct acting from inner necessity.”

On Creativity & Labor:
– Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi, Creativity: Flow and the Psychology of Discovery and Invention, for the concept of “flow” in creative work.

On Technology & Art:
– Walter Benjamin, The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction — for historical parallels between earlier tech shifts and AI.

On Prototyping & Design:
– Eric Ries, The Lean Startup — for the concept of MVP as applied to art and music.

Cycles of Aesthetics

From time to time, society turns to the past to draw new impulses from it. This occurs because, at certain moments, the present no longer provides inspiration or meaningful prospects for the future. When the contemporary world appears stagnant or saturated, we return to what has already proven to hold vigor and significance.

Such movements arise periodically. The avant-garde often reaches a point of saturation: its creative energy begins to wear thin, and the dominant aesthetic starts to feel excessive or even destructive. While this does not necessarily lead to “social collapse,” there is a threshold of cultural rupture beyond which cycles of revisitation and renewal emerge.

These revivals are sometimes dismissed by the intellectual elite as mere “nostalgia.” Yet they are not simply nostalgic; rather, they represent efforts to rebuild upon foundations that once proved fruitful, now reshaped with new techniques and contexts. Such movements act as attempts to recalibrate the sensibility of an age and tend to spread most visibly through the arts. The Renaissance, Classicism, Romanticism, and others were each driven by reflection on the paths already taken and by the search for both aesthetic and existential adjustment.

Before the internet, these processes unfolded slowly, often taking decades to consolidate and disseminate. Today, however, we witness constant micro-revolutions, which appear to be converging toward a larger revision of the Zeitgeist. The past few decades have brought intense disruptions across multiple fields, reflected in a fragmented and chaotic aesthetic landscape. The pursuit of the sublime, once a guiding force in the arts, has to some extent been replaced by a culture of shock. The accelerated flow of information challenges human capacities for assimilation, generating a kind of stress that verges on incompatibility with our nature.

In response, a quieter movement has begun to take shape—one oriented toward simplicity, tranquility, and reconnection with what endures. It manifests in social and intellectual practices that resist both rampant consumerism and rigid ideological demands. Frequently labeled as conservatism, this impulse in fact acquires an avant-garde quality within the current context. Wearied by impositions, many are once again seeking the sublime—through a kind of futuristic revival that combines critiques of technology with a retreat from mass-produced pop culture.

From Amusing Ourselves to Death (Neil Postman, 1985) to Digital Minimalism (Cal Newport, 2019), calls for a more frugal and meaningful life have multiplied. Yet this impulse coexists with opposing forces that invest in the bizarre and the ephemeral. We thus live in tension between utopias and dystopias, both reflected in contemporary aesthetics. The key question is what kind of fruits each tendency will ultimately bear.

In the end, aesthetics divide into two broad orientations: those that seek only the fleeting instant and those that strive for the perennial. Their results, of course, are very different. Over the long term, some currents will endure as transformative, while others will be remembered merely as passing phases—like the Lisztomania of the nineteenth century.