I undertook this investigation in response to a professional concern I have encountered with increasing frequency in my work as a musician, educator, and vocal coach: the growing tendency for individuals to claim authorship of “songs” that were generated primarily or entirely through automated AI text-to-music systems. In recent years, I have observed a rising number of students arrive with what they describe as “original compositions,” only to later disclose that their role in the creative process consisted entirely of entering prompts into generative AI platforms.

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As an artist who has devoted more than three decades to the study and practice of composition, lyric writing, vocal technique, and musical interpretation, I find this trend deeply troubling. The term “songwriter” appears to be undergoing a quiet redefinition—one that displaces discipline, craft, and musical judgment with automation, without serious scrutiny or resistance.

 

Approximately one year prior to initiating this investigation, one of my students asked for assistance in writing and submitting a song to the International Songwriting Competition (ISC). That request introduced me to the competition. I agreed to help, intending to guide her through the full human process of songwriting from the ground up: lyrical development, melodic construction, structural planning, and vocal performance. As she confronted the scope of that work, she ultimately withdrew. Her response crystallized the concern I had already begun to feel: many now equate AI generation with creative authorship, and the distinction between the two is rapidly eroding.

 

In response, I chose to write and submit a song myself—completed entirely within the week preceding the ISC’s Extended Deadline submission cut-off date—not with the intention of taking home the grand prize, but as a pedagogical exercise for my students to bear witness to and as a personal and professional reaffirmation of human creative processes. I documented that work, submitted it, and then moved on.

 

Nearly a year later, I encountered an ISC promotional message and revisited the competition website to listen to the prior year’s winners. The second-place entry in the Comedy category—the same category I had entered—immediately exhibited auditory characteristics inconsistent with human vocal and compositional production. The experience was disquieting. The very institution I had used to model artistic discipline now appeared to reward precisely the shortcut I sought to discourage.

 

That moment became the catalyst for this investigation.

 

I did not initiate this inquiry to challenge artistic merit, to advance my own submission, or to pursue any sort of recognition as a songwriter. I include my status as a prior entrant solely as a matter of transparency. My placement is irrelevant to the findings, the methodology, and the conclusions of this report. I neither expect nor seek reconsideration of my own entry, and no aspect of the analysis depends upon it.

 

This investigation exists because honesty and human creativity is worth protecting—not sentimentally, but structurally. Songwriters deserve a creative ecosystem in which authorship retains meaning. They also deserve competitions that enforce their own rules. Institutions like the International Songwriting Competition that claim to celebrate human artistry must do so with procedural integrity.

 

My purpose in conducting and publishing this work has been consistent throughout:

to defend the value of human musical authorship,

to expose procedural weaknesses where they exist,

and to speak plainly at a moment when technological convenience threatens to outpace ethical clarity.

 

This report is offered in service of those values.