AI-Co-Produced Music and Video Honoring Past Art
Using AI to reinvision art
Allen Ginsberg, the incredible Beat poet of the 1950s - 1990s had mentioned that he found the Romantic poet William Blake a muse and inspiration. This new song, "Ginsberg Talked To Blake uses this theme as an analog for my long-time friendship with poet and writer, J.C. Coyle, based in Los Angeles, CA. His poetry and writing has always been a personal inspiration for me, and a great metaphor for my relationship with J.C.
Using Suno.ai, ChatGPT, Claude.ai, Krea.ai, Midjourney.com, Adobe Premiere and Garageband, I created this new music and accompanying video. Enjoy.
“Ginsberg Talked to Blake” began as a poem and turned into a haunted songscape—a visceral dialogue between ghosts, influences, and inner voices. Crafted under the Vashyn persona, the track channels indie-pop minimalism and poetic depth through the lens of post-genre experimentation.
Built using Suno.ai, the music was shaped by a hybrid prompt: imagine a sonic child of Halsey, Radiohead, and The Postal Service, with an undercurrent of lyrical rhythm inspired by Wu-Tang Clan and Eminem. The result is cinematic and raw—blending glitched-out synths, minor-key pianos, and a heartbeat-like pulse that swells into catharsis. Vocals thread between intimacy and revelation, dreamlike but unflinching.
Visually, the world of the song took form via Krea.ai, where references rooted in PNW-noir and minimalist surrealism informed a moving tableau. The final video was cut in CapCut, mixing digital haze and analog-feeling textures—mirroring the layered voice of a narrator who might be prophet, ghost, or self.
The lyrics, co-written and structured with ChatGPT, lean on slant rhymes, internal rhythms, and Beat-inspired imagery. They orbit a mysterious figure—part trickster, part muse—who haunts the edges of inspiration and mental health. This figure becomes the sonic thread, weaving jazz, memory, and static into something like a hymn for the sleepless.
At its core, “Ginsberg Talked to Blake” is an elegy for fractured brilliance, a ballad for those who walk with shadows and speak in sparks.
THE LYRICS
Ginsberg said Blake called at midnight—
No, Blake never waited for light.
He pulled the boy off corners and nights,
Launched him high or drowned him right.
Streetwater lullabies, sewer-glare dreams,
While the Benzedrine tongue unraveled the seams.
Dry-mouth prayers, drums blown wide,
Just static now on the other side.
[PRE-CHORUS]
Every wall whispers names of the past,
But the cue ball skips, and the eight don’t last.
You stall.
You stall.
Still listening… too tired to brawl.
[HOOK]
There’s this guy I know—
Knocks when I’m lowest, walks when I glow.
He don’t wear a face I can name,
But he’s got a Zippo soul and a Halloween flame.
Says “Johnny, you ain’t been out to play.”
Spins bop in the dark, and makes me stay.
I don’t wanna know him, but I always do—
He’s the voice that carves the silence through.
[VERSE II]
He keeps odd hours, I swear he’s wind,
Blows cold breath on the dew of my sins.
If I laugh too loud in my panic, disheveled,
He slides in—sits, smokes, speaks like the devil.
His chair’s a sermon, boots preach grime,
Tales from Norton engines and shattered time.
His stories are rust and strobe and hum,
Jazzed-up monologues that never come undone.
[BRIDGE I]
He rants about coffee and fan-light lies,
How a glance can betray what a mouth denies.
He burns through Camels, half and bent,
Spins his thoughts ‘til my dream is rent.
Then quiet marches like boots in snow,
Into the grave of the moment’s glow.
And gone.
[CHORUS II]
Yeah there’s this guy I know—
Smokes truth, breathes shadow, and walks real slow.
He never ends the tale, just leaves it hanging,
Like stars mid-fall or church bells clanging.
Says “I hope you’ve heard it right.”
Then fades to broken pavement at first light.
He’s not a friend but I let him in,
Because he’s the one who makes me sing.
[VERSE III – SPOKEN MELODY STYLE]
I caught him last month on a porch in the rain,
Air sharp with charge, like memory and pain.
He left me a story in the twist of the trees—
Not words. Just a way the world breathes.
Sometimes he don’t drag me from rest,
Sometimes he just leaves a song in my chest.
And in those rare clean-burning hours,
I forgive him his ghosts, his lack of flowers.
[BRIDGE II]
But when it’s not pretty—
It’s late.
It’s loud.
It’s Blake screaming from the Benzedrine cloud.
Howl spilled in ink and wired hands,
Boy Wonder crashing through uncharted lands.
It ain’t always magic—it’s never neat,
It’s the drunken stutter of the misfit Beats.
[CHORUS III – FULL BAND EXPLOSION]
There’s this guy I know—
Always late, never soft, too full of woe.
He likes hot jazz and cold beer missed,
The snap of a Zippo in a scene that is.
He finds me hiding behind the crowd,And shouts inside me far too loud.
I run from him—I run toward him too,
Because he’s the one who cuts me through.
[OUTRO – QUIET DESCENT]
Yeah, Ginsberg talked to Blake.
But he didn’t always know he needed to.
Built using Suno.ai, the music was shaped by a hybrid prompt: imagine a sonic child of Halsey, Radiohead, and The Postal Service, with an undercurrent of lyrical rhythm inspired by Wu-Tang Clan and Eminem. The result is cinematic and raw—blending glitched-out synths, minor-key pianos, and a heartbeat-like pulse that swells into catharsis. Vocals thread between intimacy and revelation, dreamlike but unflinching.
Visually, the world of the song took form via Krea.ai, where references rooted in PNW-noir and minimalist surrealism informed a moving tableau. The final video was cut in CapCut, mixing digital haze and analog-feeling textures—mirroring the layered voice of a narrator who might be prophet, ghost, or self.
The lyrics, co-written and structured with ChatGPT, lean on slant rhymes, internal rhythms, and Beat-inspired imagery. They orbit a mysterious figure—part trickster, part muse—who haunts the edges of inspiration and mental health. This figure becomes the sonic thread, weaving jazz, memory, and static into something like a hymn for the sleepless.
At its core, “Ginsberg Talked to Blake” is an elegy for fractured brilliance, a ballad for those who walk with shadows and speak in sparks.