Ahem. Welcome, patients, creators, lurkers, and those who clicked this page by mistake and are now legally part of the experiment.
Today, I sit down with Chatmat, a longtime friend from SUC, a creator of strange musical substances, and, regrettably, a British person.
Do not worry. I have prepared tea. I have also prepared restraints. We will see which becomes necessary first.
Personally I just go with the flow and make whatever I'm feeling at the time. Youngsters these days would call it "vibes." Unless I'm making something silly, I always try and find an emotion to work with, happiness, loss, love, anything. I like to hone in on something specific, even if it's not inherently obvious.
Ah, "vibes." A deeply scientific term used when the patient refuses to admit the art is being grown directly from the nervous system. Still, I approve. Emotion first, diagnosis later.
You'll never believe this but "Chat" rhymes with "Mat." Crazy I know. I've always been a big brain kinda guy. Plus, I wanted something simple, seeing as I came from the XxX_bLiNdEd_By_ThE_pAiN_XxX era of online usernames. Cringe.
A tragic origin. A survivor of the ancient username plague. Many were lost to underscores, alternating capitals, and unnecessary Xs. You have my condolences, and my respect for recovering enough to become pronounceable.
It's usually one of those. Mostly it's because I'm feeling a specific way at the time and want to get that feeling out there. It's almost like a small form of therapy for me. If I'm feeling particularly down, I'll write about it, or maybe get an instrumental of a specific genre that fits that feeling and run with it.
Using music as therapy. Dangerous. Effective. Occasionally cheaper than actual therapy, unless Suno credits become involved, in which case please consult your accountant and possibly a priest.
Ooh, good question. I'm unsure, so I feel like it's the latter. I tend to just make what I like, so if someone recognises the style of my song, whether it's the genre or the way the lyrics are written, that's pretty cool that people like my music enough to notice. It certainly wasn't intentional, but I definitely have a few genres and styles I tend to fall back on more than others.
Unintentional identity is often the most honest kind. The creature was not designed. It simply kept appearing in the lab until everyone agreed it had a name.
For the more personal songs, one with a deep feeling I want to convey, I try and tell a story. If I'm writing about how low or high I'm feeling, I'll start off with that and usually end up with how I'm dealing with it near the end. I tweak things a lot as I go too, since hearing it an octillion times while creating, you get a sense of syllable count and lyrical flow.
An octillion listens. Yes. The traditional creative process: inspiration, refinement, obsession, mild auditory haunting, and finally the point where one syllable begins to feel like a personal enemy.
Oh definitely a mixture of everything. Sometimes I write about my pain, my happiness, or just about a goddamn Meatball Submarine. Go with the flow, baby, especially to fit the genre.
Pain, happiness, and the Meatball Submarine. The holy trinity of modern songwriting. Scholars will deny this now, but history will vindicate us.
Growing up I've always had an eclectic mix of genres. I'm one of those weirdos that says "oh, I'll listen to anything" then actually does. A few artists that hugely influenced how I make music:
Mike Patton. His vocal range and the way he can effortlessly shift throughout one song opened my eyes to how the human voice is such a versatile instrument. An artist who purely runs on vibes and nails it.
Moron Police / Major Parkinson. If you know these bands, you'll 100% know why they're on this list. Every song is a journey, and sometimes they take you through it kicking and screaming, but you'll love every second.
Yo-Yo Ma. Probably the most surprising when I mention him. Go listen to his arrangements and you'll understand. I can't listen to his pieces without emotion swelling inside me. What are you still doing here? Go listen.
A pleasingly unstable ingredient list. Vocal acrobatics, strange journeys, emotional strings, and the willingness to actually listen to "anything." Rare condition. Usually terminally interesting.
Oh 100%. I can already play a handful of instruments, and I'm currently wrestling with a midi-keyboard, but there's only so much you can do. Experimenting with new styles has allowed me to express myself in a lot more ways. Plus it's always fun to let loose and make something completely unhinged sometimes.
The machine expands the laboratory. Suddenly the locked cabinets open, the forbidden drawers start whispering, and the creator says, "What if I made this genre I have no business touching?" A beautiful symptom.
Again, a common answer, but a mix of both. Sometimes you create bottled lightning in the first gen that needs tweaking a little, and another time you're 5k credits deep chasing that sunk cost fallacy because you have an idea and really want to see it through. Almost unsurprisingly, my most popular songs are ones I've spent little effort on and just gone with the "feeling."
Ah yes, the classic Suno contradiction. Spend hours performing delicate surgery and the patient dies. Toss a shoe, a feeling, and three words into the machine and it stands up singing. Infuriating. Magnificent.
I'm not sure, but as an American, do you always feel the need to insert yourself into every situation?
Touché. A clean counterattack. Sharp, dry, and delivered with the emotional restraint of a man who has apologised to furniture after bumping into it. I will allow it.
Symptoms: turns feelings into songs. Turns silly ideas into memes. Cares about his friends. May contain plague doctors, sporks, D&D, and trauma.
Prognosis: Incurably creative.
A grim diagnosis, but not without hope. The condition appears chronic, socially contagious, and likely to worsen when exposed to community feedback, inside jokes, and a suspicious amount of musical curiosity.
Thank you, Chatmat, for submitting yourself to the examination. You survived with most of your dignity intact, which is more than I can say for several of my previous patients.
To everyone reading: listen to his work, ask yourself what strange little machine produced it, and remember that art is healthiest when it is just slightly infected.
