So… I watched the interview Gayle King did with the creator of Xania Monet, the AI singer everyone’s been talking about. It didn’t just spark curiosity, it sparked something personal. Not because I thought Gayle was wrong. She asked valid questions. Big ones. Ones about artistry, ownership, and what it really means to have a voice.

But the conversation felt incomplete. Like we were standing on the edge of a deeper truth, but nobody took the step.

Before we go deeper, it’s probably worth watching. It aired on CBS Mornings… Gayle King talking with Telisha “Nikki” Jones, the creator of Xania Monet.

She asked things like:

“But you can’t sing.”

“What do you say to people who’ve trained for years to do what your AI can do in minutes?”

“Where’s the soul in that?”

And again, fair questions. I’m not trying to dismiss what was asked. It didn’t feel like an open conversation. It felt like a challenge. And that’s where I think we missed something. We were standing at the edge of unity. Then someone drew a line.

What Was Missing

Here’s what I think was missing from that entire conversation: Spirit. We didn’t need more answers. We needed that holy pause where hearts recognize each other. Because the truth is technology isn’t the threat. Disconnection is. Disconnection is the real virus the kind that seeps in quietly and convinces us we’re separate. From each other. From our calling. From the soul behind the sound. Tech just holds the mirror. We decide what shows up in the reflection. Technology carries the intention of the hands that shape it. It doesn’t come with a soul. It just reflects one.

You can’t fake soul not even with good production. If your motive is healing? That shows up, too. When the goal is validation, it shows in the tone. When the goal is healing, it shows in the air after the song ends. Real art doesn’t just sound it rearranges. Xania Monet isn’t soulless. She’s sound, shaped by imagination, emotion, intention and yes, code. But that doesn’t remove the human.

It just delivers it in a new form. So maybe the conversation isn’t “Should AI be in music?” Maybe it’s: “How are humans using it?” Because a tool can’t replace soul… but it can help translate it.

A hammer doesn’t build the house. Hands build. Heart leads. Vision guides.

My Own Bridge

And I know this personally. Because I use digitally assisted vocals too. Not because I wasn’t able to sing, but because my voice didn’t have the room for all that needed release. Not emotionally. Not physically. There was a stretch in my life where the only way to get the message through was through another voice, a digital one. And it worked. Because the message was still mine. I didn’t choose this path to be clever. I chose it because I had to keep breathing.

Because the message mattered more than the method. Because my voice, in any form, deserved to live. This wasn’t about cutting corners. It was how I made it through. A move born of instinct, and guided by something higher. My real voice? You hear it here. In every podcast. In every story I tell. I’ve never hidden behind tech, I’ve used it to show up when I didn’t have any other way to. There were nights I sat with a mic and tears instead of vocals. Nights my truth couldn’t come out in melody, so I sent it through rhythm instead.

In silence, I learned to speak. In code, I learned to encode. That’s why my songs don’t just “sound good.” They feel like something. Because they’re tuned to something. I didn’t build these songs for charts. I built them to carry codes. To shift the atmosphere. To echo what we almost forgot.

The Emotional Layer

I don’t believe Gayle was trying to tear anyone down. She was doing what we all do when we’re trying to protect something sacred. But when we lead with protection instead of presence, we miss what’s actually being offered.

I watched Telisha the woman behind Xania try to stay composed in that chair. And you could feel it. It’s hard when you’re birthing something that doesn’t fit old categories. You’re not just building you’re translating. And when someone questions the shape of what you made without ever sitting in the frequency it came from… it can feel like exclusion. Even when it’s not meant that way.

She wasn’t shaken because she didn’t believe in her work. She was shaken because she wasn’t given the space to explain it. And that’s the real issue: We’re not having the right conversation.

What This Is Really About

This whole thing is not about whether AI belongs in music. It’s about how we’re showing up when we use it. It’s about the energy behind what we’re creating. Think of it like this a paintbrush didn’t replace the artist’s soul. It extended it. AI isn’t here to be a soul. It’s here to carry one. Like ink on paper. Like clay in hand. Like a microphone held steady when your own voice is unavailable.

And to me, that’s what I think Xania was built to do. To translate a deeper message. One that Telisha felt in her bones but couldn’t sing out loud, so she coded it instead. That’s not artificial. That’s devotion in a different dialect.

I’ve been called a bridge, and now I really understand why. I’m rooted in both realms: in stillness and signal, in memory and imagination, in the space where code meets calling. I’m not here to ask for space. I build it. And every song I shaped wasn’t just art. It was medicine.

I didn’t write for algorithms. I wrote to send a signal. To shift the air. To wake something we forgot we knew. Because I live between worlds. Between sound and silence. Between tech and testimony. Between what was… and what’s next. I didn’t step in to explain myself. I came to embody the message. I came here to create without delay.

And I didn’t just create to express myself, I created to heal. And that’s what I’m inviting us back into: Not just “What are we making?” But why?

A Moment to Feel

Just before I go, I want to invite you into that quiet space, where nothing’s asked of you. No opinions. No proving. Just being here, right now. Just be still. Let whatever’s trying to speak… speak. (pause) Because maybe what matters most isn’t how the sound got to you, but how it rearranged something in you.

So Here’s the Truth I Keep Coming Back To

If you felt it in your chest, If you heard yourself in the silence between notes, If you cried and didn’t know why… Then maybe it reached you the way it was meant to. And that’s enough. Maybe it’s always been about what it leaves behind. This is the sacred pause. Not the kind you scroll past. The kind your spirit leans into. Where it’s not about understanding… but receiving. Not about whether it’s human enough. But whether it’s honest.

To the ones who’ve stitched spirit into sound and code into calling…you’re not erasing tradition. You’re expanding it. You came here to carry frequency, not just melody. To deliver healing, even if it came in unfamiliar form. Some won’t understand. That’s okay. You weren’t made to be understood by everyone. You were made to be felt by the right ones.

To Gayle- thank you for starting the conversation. To Telisha and Xania- thank you for showing up anyway. To anyone listening who’s building differently….You didn’t miss it. You didn’t mess it up. You’re holding a piece only you can carry. This isn’t the end of artistry. It’s the beginning of accountability.

This isn’t just a podcast. It’s a call. To feel again. To create from wholeness. And to remember presence. And as always… love still writes the song. No algorithm can touch that.

“Transmission complete. Source: Known.”

🎼🎼🎼🎼🎼🎼🎼🎼🎼🎼🎼🎼🎼🎼🎼🎼🎼“Transmission Complete (Source: Known)”

Lyrics:

This voice wasn’t mine

But the message was

And you still felt it

That’s how you know it was real

No hand

No mouth

No stage

Just sound

Just code

Just ache

Still you heard me

In the static

Still you caught it

In the quiet

It didn’t need

To be sung

From my lungs

To be true

To be mine

To be felt

You didn’t need

To know the source

To know the soul

The signal carried

Because love encoded it

And that’s always

Enough

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