I remember the first time I heard a song that wrecked me—some indie track on a late-night playlist, and I could feel the singer's breath catch on a certain word. That's the whole point of music. It's one human reaching out to another. AI-generated songs on streaming platforms don't just compete with that; they flood the space with something that mimics it without ever living it. Masterajey might say that if it sounds good, what's the difference? But there's a real difference. Streaming isn't just a jukebox—it's a marketplace where artists build careers. When AI can churn out a thousand tracks a day, it drowns out the humans who need those plays to eat. And who gets paid? Some algorithm's owner, not a struggling songwriter. Maybe AI has a place in music—as a tool, a collaborator. But letting it sit on the same shelf as human work, without labeling it, turns streaming into a factory floor. I'd rather hear one honest voice than a million perfect fakes.

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