The Devil Inside (My Playlist): When AI Rocked My Barn

So I’ve been out there. In the mud. In the horse poop. Shoveling my way through the aftermath of a long-ass Norwegian winter, headphones in, mind elsewhere, vibing hard to this gritty band called The Devil Inside. Heavy riffs. Haunting vocals. Raw edge. Grit. I just thought, “Damn, this band gets it. This is exactly the kind of sound I didn’t know I needed while mucking out stalls.”

Turns out, no. There’s no someone. There’s not even a band.

Because the band? Is fake. Generated. Created out of ones and zeros by artificial intelligence. No sweaty garage rehearsals. No tortured lead singers screaming into the void. Just code.

Let that sink in.

All this time, I’ve been pouring out my soul into wheelbarrows and manure piles, emotionally bonding with a machine-generated musical illusion. It’s like finding out your favorite therapy animal has batteries and fur made from polyester. Kind of cute. But also... existentially f*cked up.

Reality Has Left the Building

It’s not just the music. It’s photos. Videos. Art. News. Hell, your favorite Instagram influencer might potentially be cooked up by a bored teenager who’s never left his basement.

We’re officially living in a time where you can’t tell what’s real without carbon dating it. That emotional ballad you cried to last week? Deepfake. That dreamy TikTok artist you thought was your spiritual twin? AI composite with “engagement-optimized freckles.”

And this... this is where it gets dark. Because if we can't trust what we see, hear, or even feel anymore – what the hell can we trust?

So What Now?

Do we go full off-grid and survive on root vegetables and goat milk? Trade Wi-Fi for wool socks and write angry manifestos in a leather-bound journals while sipping dandelion tea brewed over an open flame?

No. We do what humans have always done when the world goes sideways: 

We get weird. We get aware. And we get intentional.

You don’t stop listening to music because it might be made by a machine. But you do start paying attention to how it makes you feel – and whether that feeling leads you somewhere real or somewhere hollow.

Same with art. Same with “news.” Same with that weird urge to buy a £79 handwoven llama hat from an influencer named Sky who may or may not exist.

Because in a world of infinite fake... Authenticity is your superpower.

And maybe that starts in the barn. With a shovel. And a playlist.

Even if it turns out the devil inside is just a glorified spreadsheet with reverb.