Is SUNO  AI Songwriting Just for Amatuers?

Why I Don't Use Suno (And Why You Might Want To)

Everyone has an opinion on AI music tools. Here's mine - and you might not agree with me.

I'm not going to tell you that Suno is destroying music or that everyone using it is lazy. I'm also not going to pretend it's the future and anyone not using it is a dinosaur.

The truth is more nuanced than that, and frankly, more interesting.

As someone who writes songs for a living, develops audio plugins at KIMERA AUDIO, and has built a career on vocal production - I have thoughts. Not hot takes. Thoughts.

Let me share them with you, and then you can decide what makes sense for your own creative process.

The Beautiful Part: Democratization

First, let's talk about what Suno does really well.

It's opening doors for people who never had access to music creation before. Poets who've been writing beautiful lyrics for years can finally hear their words as songs. People with melodies in their heads but no musical training can bring those ideas to life.

That's genuinely beautiful.

I love that barrier-to-entry is being lowered. I love that someone with dyslexia might use Suno the way they use spellcheck - as a tool that helps them communicate their creativity more effectively.

There's something powerful about technology that says "you don't need to play piano to hear the chords you're imagining."

So before I get into why I don't use it professionally, I want to be clear: I'm not dismissing the value it brings to certain creators.

Why I Don't Use It: The Pattern Problem

Here's where my songwriter brain kicks in.

Have you noticed how many AI-generated songs use the words "echoes" and "shadows"?

It's the same phenomenon as ChatGPT writing patterns. People can now recognize when something is written by ChatGPT because our brains are incredibly good at detecting patterns. The same cadence, the same phrase structures, the same word choices.

Suno has tells too.

And here's the thing about patterns: when audiences recognize them, they devalue the work.

Not because the work is objectively bad, but because it feels mass-produced. Generic. Like it came from a template rather than a human with something specific to say.

As a professional songwriter and session singer, my craft is my competitive advantage. The specific way I write, the choices I make, the authenticity of my voice - that's what clients pay for.

If I start relying on Suno to write songs for me, I'm competing with everyone else using Suno. My work becomes recognizable as AI-generated, and suddenly I'm not offering something unique anymore.

I'm offering the same thing thousands of other people can generate in 30 seconds.

The Hippocratic Oath of Songwriting

I have this philosophy - call it the Hippocratic oath of songwriting: always care about the music.

Even when I'm writing for a client, even when it's commercial work, even when I'm tired - I care about the song. I care about the craft. I care about making something that resonates with people.

AI doesn't care. It can't care. It's a pattern recognition and generation tool.

When you hire me to write you a song, I write you a song. Not the AI. That matters to me.

Now, does that mean I don't use AI at all? No. But I'm very intentional about where I use it.

Where AI Actually Helps Me (And Where It Doesn't)

Let me be transparent about my own AI usage, because nuance matters here.

I do use AI for:

• Lyric fragment ideas (which I then heavily edit and make authentic)

• Generating lists of words that rhyme with a line I'm working on

• Brainstorming alternative perspectives or themes

• Reference track discovery

I don't use AI for:

• Writing complete songs

• Generating vocals

• Replacing my creative decision-making

Here's my bias as a songwriter and singer: I'm uncomfortable with AI singers and AI songwriting. But I'm curious about AI synth generation - the idea of describing a sound and then playing it on keys.

Is that hypocritical? Maybe. But I think it's honest.

And I know producers have a different bias - many are fine with producing a whole track themselves and then adding an AI topline. That's their creative process, and I'm not here to judge it.

There's no universal answer to what's "right" or "wrong" in creative processes. There's only what works for you and what compromises your values.

The Craft vs. Commodity Question

Here's what concerns me most about professional reliance on Suno:

It commoditizes music creation.

When everyone has access to the same tool that generates similar-sounding results, you're no longer competing on craft. You're competing on speed and price.

And that's a race to the bottom.

I've seen this happen in other creative industries. Stock photography made certain types of photography worthless. Templates made certain types of design commoditized.

The work that retained value? The human touch. The specific vision. The craft you can't template.

Your unique creative voice - the specific way you hear harmonies, the particular emotional weight you bring to a melody, the intentional choices you make - that's what AI can't replicate.

At least not yet.

What About Job Loss?

The big question everyone asks: Will Suno eliminate jobs for producers, singers, and songwriters?

Honestly? I don't have a clear answer, and anyone who claims they do is lying.

Here's what I've observed:

As a singer for hire, I actually saw an increase in people wanting to hire me to re-record AI vocals so they sounded more human. The AI generated the demo, but they wanted the final product to have a real voice.

But tomorrow, AI vocals might sound indistinguishable from human. And then they might not need to hire me anymore.

That's the uncomfortable truth we're sitting with.

However, I genuinely believe humans will always crave the human touch. We're wired for it. We connect with authenticity, with imperfection, with the specific choices only a human can make.

Too many of us love creatively expressing ourselves. We always will. That's not going away.

The Future I See (And How to Prepare)

I don't think AI is going to destroy human-made music. But I do think it's going to change the landscape significantly.

It could increase the value of human work - making authenticity and craft premium offerings in a sea of AI-generated content.

Or it could drive prices down through increased competition - more people able to generate "good enough" music means professional rates get squeezed.

It might even shake the industry enough to finally bring about musicians unions and positive structural changes the industry desperately needs. Sometimes disruption creates opportunity for reform.

The honest answer? Probably all of the above, in different ways, for different aspects of the industry.

Which is exactly why I'm always adamant about diversifying your income as a musician.

If one revenue stream in your portfolio gets disrupted by AI, your other endeavors float you. If session singing gets impacted, maybe sync licensing picks up. If songwriting rates drop, maybe teaching or plugin development compensates.

Putting all your eggs in one basket has never been a good strategy, and it's an even worse one now.

My Personal Stance

So here's where I land:

Suno is a powerful tool. It's an incredible innovation. I respect what it's doing for accessibility.

But no, I don't have any personal interest in using it for professional songwriting or vocal work.

I use AI as a tool, not a replacement. I use it to enhance my process, not to do the work for me.

Your mileage may vary. Your values might be different. Your creative process might welcome Suno in ways mine doesn't.

And that's okay.

The important thing is being intentional about your choices. Understanding what you're gaining and what you're potentially losing. Making decisions that align with your values and your long-term goals.

For me, the craft matters too much. The human touch matters too much. The specific thing I bring to a song - the thing that can't be templated - that's my value.

I'm not willing to give that up for convenience.

But I'm also not closing my mind to AI entirely. I'm watching. I'm learning. I'm using it where it helps without compromising what I value most.

That's the nuanced middle ground where I'm comfortable standing.

Where you stand is entirely up to you.