When songwriter Patrick Irwin relocated to Nashville last year, he felt like he was entering a lottery. Each day, countless songwriting sessions happen where writers create demos to present to publishers. These publishers then share the songs with labels and managers, who may send them to artists. Even if a major country star records a song, it still takes a stroke of luck for it to hit No. 1. The odds of success are incredibly slim.
Recently, Irwin found himself in a room with co-writers Sam Fink and Duane Deerweater, where they decided to try something different. Instead of booking studio time or contacting a producer, one co-writer opened Suno, an AI music platform, uploaded a simple voice memo with just guitar and vocals, and typed a prompt: “traditional country, male vocal, folk country, storytelling, 90s country, rhythmic.” Just 30 seconds later, Suno generated two fully produced demos with drums, electric guitars, bass, and backing harmonies. No studio musicians, no hefty invoices.
“It’s wild, you just tell it the genre and it does everything for you,” Irwin remarked, both amazed and unsettled. This wasn’t quite the Nashville he had envisioned, a city known for its rich 200-year history of producing some of America’s greatest music.
Irwin isn’t alone in his reaction. In the background, AI is making waves in the city. At the beginning of 2024, few industry professionals had even tried these tools; however, in the last half-year, songwriters and producers have eagerly adopted them to work more efficiently—and some even more creatively. No label, major publisher, or Suno provided comments for this piece, but discussions with musicians, writers, and numerous anonymous insiders reveal that Nashville is embracing AI.
Songwriter Trannie Anderson, who has penned hits for Lainey Wilson, Dan + Shay, and Reba McEntire, acknowledges the technology’s widespread use. While she doesn’t utilize it herself, she sees its prevalence “from entry-level songwriters to the top dogs.” She isn’t exaggerating; insiders mention that even stars like Dustin Lynch and Jelly Roll are receiving pitches featuring their voices artificially generated into demos, made possible by AI voice transfer. Lynch’s manager, Brad Belanger, confirmed this, commenting, “What a world we’re moving into.” Jelly Roll’s team declined to comment.
While headlines have celebrated “Walk My Walk” by Breaking Rust, an AI-generated track that recently topped the Billboard Country Digital Song Sales chart, that narrative is somewhat misleading. That chart is an artifact of the pre-streaming era and can be easily manipulated. The real transformation is taking place in songwriters’ rooms.
Nashville is often referred to as a “10-year town,” suggesting that it typically takes a decade of hard work before achieving a hit. Even established songwriters experience long waits between sessions and getting airplay on country radio. “Two years is the fastest I’ve seen,” shares Jon Sherwood, a UMPG writer credited with Bailey Zimmerman and Luke Combs’ “Backup Plan.” Although he still sticks to traditional methods sans AI, he acknowledges that speed is changing the landscape. Previously, writers might spend $500 to $1,000 to have a professional demo recorded to pitch to stars.
Suno brings new efficiencies to Nashville’s song creation process. While songwriters still write the lyrics and melody because Suno’s generated lyrics can be overly cliché, they now leverage AI for production. A voice memo can be easily uploaded, and the “remix” feature allows for genre changes—whether bro-country, alt-country, or “hick-hop”—in an instant. Maggie Reaves, a rising songwriter with Dream 3 and Kobalt, recently had a tight deadline for a major artist’s assignment. She quickly crafted the song and “threw it in Suno.” Her publisher replied, “This is perfect. This is going straight to her.”
Typically churning out around 200 songs each year, Reaves found traditional demoing expensive. Previously, she saved to demo songs for $500 each—meaning her annual costs could reach into the tens of thousands. Now, she pays just $96 a year for almost unlimited attempts: “I immediately saw the potential to replace that.”
Many publishers are also running through their back catalogs using Suno to discover fresh takes on older tracks. While the sound generated isn’t flawless—it can come off as somewhat compressed, low-quality, and lacking in dynamics—the voice output has a unique quality that can be overly pitch-corrected. However, Reaves mentioned that around 70% of the output is good enough for car listening, providing a clear vision to pitch to artists. These are still demos, after all.
Suno serves not just as a demo tool but also helps producers brainstorm ideas quickly. Kalen Nash, an independent songwriter, usually records songs the traditional way but has incorporated Suno for inspiration, calling it a “band in your pocket.” Jacob Durrett, a Big Loud producer, uses it to explore alternative versions and feels it gives him “a productivity boost more than a creative one.” He can input a rough idea and receive multiple melody and full song directions in virtually any genre. “Sometimes I’m just in awe of how good it can be,” he notes. As a skilled musician, Durrett prefers to try out songs in various styles, but it’s time-consuming. Ideally, he hopes AI will handle the tedious aspects so he can concentrate on creativity.
Music publisher Eric Olson encourages writers to embrace Suno, finding it invaluable for generating samples without clearance issues. “If I can let Suno handle the last 20 percent and spend more time with my kids, that’s a win,” he describes.
Not everyone is on board, though. Many in Nashville wear multiple hats: songwriter, “track guy,” studio musician, and touring performer. “There used to be a whole world where musicians were making six figures just by playing demo scales,” says Ian Fitchuk, a Grammy-winning producer for Kacey Musgraves’ Golden Hour. Fitchuk has avoided Suno, fearing it might eliminate musicians’ livelihoods. Anderson argues it’s essentially “the last nail in the coffin” for the demo studio system. If the demo musicians disappear, the industry could face a talent shortage.
There are also legal and ethical complexities: “If Suno generates a lead line that an artist uses, what are the rules?” questions Reaves. The copyright office doesn’t protect AI works, making ownership of these hybrid songs unclear; plus, the AI learns from existing music. “AI uses my songs and my friends’ songs … We’re not being compensated,” says Anderson. There’s also the discomfort factor; Durrett expressed frustration when AI produces a voice that sounds uncannily like his friend’s.
Despite these concerns, Suno has secured $250 million in funding, is generating $200 million in annual revenue, and its adoption is accelerating. Wait for just two years, and you’ll likely hear songs assisted by Suno on country radio.
The question remains: How will they sound? Anderson senses “something is missing,” noting, “There’s no humanity or soul … The Holy Spirit doesn’t live in AI.”
