I read an interesting essay last week that began, “When the phonograph was invented, the composer John Phillip Sousa was heartbroken. In a 1906 article on ‘The Menace of Mechanical Music,’ he worried out loud that recording tools would reduce music from a matter of the heart and soul to a mere mechanical process.” The article really caught my attention because I used to love listening to an original recording of Sousa’s band playing Stars and Stripes Forever on my dad’s Edison phonograph
in the attic.
Sousa was worried that recorded music would make us less likely to make music ourselves, and asked, “Why learn to play the piano when you could simply press play?” For Sousa, half of the beauty in music comes from the personal element of its performance. He asked, “When a mother can turn on the phonograph with the same ease that she applies to the electric light will she croon her baby to
slumber with sweet lullabies, or will the infant be put to sleep by machinery?”
The purpose of the essay really wasn’t to discuss Sousa’s concerns about the phonograph, but to call our attention to gains and loses in the use of AI. The author noted that it’s being sold on the premise that it has the ability to chat with you like you a dear friend or give you mental health counseling. He notes, however, that in doing so it robs us of what is most truly intimately human: personal relationships. That friendship, therapy, and family are not merely about mouthing the right sounds or typing the right words.
I think we should indeed be careful about using AI in ways that diminish humanity, but I must admit I’m thankful that Chris used his iPhone to record a few of Bonnie’s songs during the Covid lockdown. Carole had to retire from accompanying due to her health, and Scott was on vacation last week, so Bonnie was back on the piano…sorta.
God Bless,
Rick
Chatham Christian Church 