Musicians across the industry are sounding the alarm over the rapid rise of AI-generated music clones, calling the phenomenon “bullshit” and a growing threat to artistic integrity. While AI-generated tracks aren’t new—2023 saw the emergence of fake Drake songs—the problem has escalated dramatically in recent years. Artists ranging from Beyoncé to ambient composer William Basinski have had AI-made tracks appear on streaming platforms under their names. Most recently, King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard’s frontman Stu Mackenzie expressed despair, telling The Music, “we are truly doomed.” Spotify has taken steps to combat the issue, enforcing a policy against impersonation and removing 75 million spam tracks. Yet the scale remains overwhelming. Deezer reports that 50,000 AI-generated songs are uploaded daily—more than a third of its entire music intake. The problem stems from how music reaches platforms: instead of uploading directly, artists use third-party distributors like DistroKid, which often lack identity verification. This loophole allows scammers to impersonate artists with little oversight. The result is absurd and offensive. A reggaeton track generated by AI ended up on William Basinski’s Spotify page, despite his work being rooted in experimental, tape-based soundscapes. “It’s total bullshit,” he told The Verge, adding that his team only caught it through constant monitoring. Similarly, Luke Temple of Here We Go Magic, whose band hasn’t released new music since 2015, called an AI-generated track “so awful.” When an AI song titled “Name This Night” appeared on Toto’s page, guitarist Steve Lukather called it “shameless.” While some of these tracks may not be AI-generated, the technology makes it easier than ever to produce fake music at scale. Tools like Suno can create full songs from simple prompts, even if they’re designed to avoid direct artist names. The case of Breaking Rust, a country track that climbed the Billboard Country Digital Song Sales chart, highlights the issue. The song, which only sold 3,000 copies, reached the top through a few targeted purchases—evidence of manipulation, not organic success. Solomon Ray, an AI gospel artist, also sparked backlash. Though not a direct clone, the real Solomon Ray—a worship leader and singer—criticized the AI version, asking, “How much of your heart are you pouring into this? If you’re having AI generate it for you, the answer is zero.” Christian artists like Forrest Frank echoed this, saying AI lacks the Holy Spirit and calling the music “weird” and spiritually hollow. Meanwhile, some are profiting from the chaos. Producer Haven used AI to mimic Jorja Smith’s voice, creating a viral track that was later removed. He then tried to re-record it and even asked Smith for a remix, leading her and her label FAMM to demand royalties. FAMM called the situation a case of artists being “collateral damage” in the AI arms race. The United Musicians and Allied Workers (UMAW) has condemned AI music as exploitation. Organizer Joey La Neve DeFrancesco argues that streaming giants and labels are cutting artists out of the equation, profiting from AI while bypassing human creators. He’s pushing for the Living Wage for Musicians Act, which would create a new royalty stream paid directly to human artists by platforms that use AI. While some labels like Warner are exploring AI partnerships, iHeartRadio has taken a firm stand. President Tom Poleman declared that music is a human art form and vowed the company will never play AI-generated vocals or use synthetic on-air personalities. “Sometimes you have to pick a side, and we’re on the side of humans,” he said. Even artists like Holly Herndon, who’s embraced AI in her work, warn of exploitation. She’s spoken about how AI companies often ignore artists’ rights and training data concerns. As the industry grapples with the wave of fakes, the message is clear: vigilance, regulation, and a commitment to human creativity are more important than ever.