K-Pop Daisuki - Nævis - The uncanny precedent nobody needed
It has been just over two years since the dawn of the AI era became apparent to the general public. Open-source models that can run on most personal computers now create images so realistic they can fool even the sharpest eye or generate cartoons and anime-like images that rival the work of top artists (if you overlook the oddities, weird hands anyone?). Other open-source models can also generate voices, allowing them to sing with a voice based on real-world artists, your own, or a blend of multiple voices—and they can even compose music in the process. Furthermore, AI can craft lyrics based on simple prompts, coming close to the work of known high-profile chatbots of rich companies. In a couple of years we can expect these technologies to consolidate even further, running on basic computers or even cheap mobile phones, not just blurring but obliterating the already thin line between what is real and what is artificial.
On September 10th, 2024, SM Entertainment unveiled its first Artificial Artist, Nævis. Originally meant to be a "member" of the K-pop group Aespa, it seems the company, perhaps realizing this move could backfire, decided to launch Nævis as a solo act instead. This new "artist" is entirely artificial in every aspect—SM even advertised that every element involved some computer-generated component. Though the debut music video includes real dancers and some clear human editing, the lyrics and likely the song itself were AI-generated. The voice is based on twelve vocal actors, and the face resembles some of SM's prettiest real artists. The music video features elements reminiscent of quirky online AI-generated videos with their odd transitions. While humans still have a hand in the creation process, we're only in Q3 of 2024, and AI tech of this level is only a few years old. The future promises much more.
Many fans have embraced this new creation as the realization of their perfect Idol dream, but others have noticed the unsettling line that this AI artist has crossed—a line we all feared. The question was never "if", but "when". AI artists have arrived, and it seems they are here to stay. But what about the real artists? Are they now obsolete? All their worst nightmares seem to have been a mere prelude to what is to come: complete replacement.
The idol industry is notoriously cutthroat. Young boys and girls sacrifice their mental and physical well-being to become the next sensation—for a few fleeting years. Most earn little (unless they're exceptionally successful), often remain in debt to the company that funded their training and debut, face intense scrutiny from fans, and can see their careers and lives ruined by the smallest scandal. They endure grueling schedules that leave them physically and mentally drained. Idols faint on stage, take breaks to recover their mental health, wear masks to avoid the public eye, and are discarded so quickly that fans forget about them just a month after their "retirement," often forced.
While companies spend millions on training, preparation, and debuting these young talents, they also bear the risk of things going terribly wrong—financially, emotionally, or legally. Why continue dealing with all the uncertainty of managing human idols when you can go fully virtual? AI artists don't complain. They don't cause scandals or suffer from mental health issues. They don't need food, housing, or bodyguards. Best of all, once the software is perfected (much of it is open-source and free), you can mass-produce them by the thousands ... per day. If one fails, it's just a few terabytes of data deleted. You can simply replace and retry without worrying about human destruction, lost investments, or team morale. There are no laws or moral quandaries to contend with. The possibilities for creation are limitless: you can release new content daily if you want, or on a more "human-friendly" monthly schedule. The "artist" won't mind. You can even test ideas in virtual worlds, gauging virtual fan reactions before officially releasing anything. All the gains, with little to lose.
AI artists represent the pinnacle of the idol industry's business model: idols that are perfect, their "lives" entirely controlled by the fans. (Soon enough, there will be virtual worlds where you can interact with them, for only $9.99 a minute!) And there's none of the baggage that comes with actual human beings. But what about real artists? Why would any company continue investing in them when an artificial version can be produced thousands of times better with a fraction of the problems? Fans will attend 24/7 virtual fan meetings, releases will happen whenever companies desire, and the only emotions involved will be on the fan side, stoked by an industry eager to cash in. Real artists should probably start looking for another line of work.
Yes, there will be fans who still prefer "flesh and blood" artists, appreciating their humanity and authenticity. But a significant portion of the money will disappear, and the competition will be impossible. While it may feel comforting to support a real artist, to admire their emotions, accept their human flaws, and promote them as real people, it will become clear to many that they are doing this only for their own peace of mind. If it doesn't truly matter whether you care or pretend to care, if you never meet them in real life, watching and promoting then only online, it is all in your mind: the virtual option is cheaper, easier, and more "perfect", many fans will eventually opt for the artificial alternative — even if it costs them their soul. Real artists will need to seek other careers, at least if they want to make a living.
We've now reached the point where it's no longer about whether an artist is using auto-tune, has had plastic surgery, or just wears heavy makeup. It doesn't matter anymore if their figure is real or enhanced with padding and corsets. None of it matters because your new idol is perfect.
It doesn't exist — but it's perfect.
And as for your old idols — the ones who need to eat and crave love — well, the door out is right there. They might as well find it themselves while you're busy adoring electrons and bits. After all, you never saw them live anyway, so what's really changed? If this doesn't worry or sadden you, don't fret. It's just a glimpse into the future. And when that future arrives, and you can marry your virtual idol, we'll see how real partners feel about a world where even love doesn't exist anymore.
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