- Spearfish US
- www.scottsimpsonmusic.com
He, him. Hey! I’m Scott Simpson, a songwriter, poet, educator and indie music producer and I live and record in Spearfish Canyon in the Black Hills of South Dakota. Since 2000, I've produced and released more than 60 albums (most available on all digital outlets). One of my recent albums, Keys To My Head (2021), includes 8 songs written during FAWM 2020. After FAWM 2022, I produced a doc film and songwriting course titled Fourteen in February, and followed that up with a studio album of most of those songs called “Berries and Thistles” in 2023. Last year’s FAWM songs very quickly were published as my Untended Garden album based on my memoir, Where the Growth Begins. I’m also a Songfinch Artist.
My Approach to AI in FAWM 2026
This year, I’m exploring how AI tools can be used in creative, human-centered, and transparent ways as part of my FAWM process. I’m not looking to outsource songwriting—I’m using AI as a mirror, a reshaper, and an occasional chaos button. It’s a tool, not a co-author, and the choices still come from me.
I’ll be sharing my full process for any track that involves AI—what tools I used, why I used them, and how they fit into the larger creative arc. If you’re curious, skeptical, or experimenting too, I’d love to talk. I think we’re all figuring this out together.
Website: https://ScottSimpsonMusic.com/
Songfinch site: https://www.songfinch.com/artists/79021
My books: https://l1nk.dev/simpsonauthor
Subscribe to Faithfulcrum Podcast: https://faithfulcrum.podbean.com/
Subscribe to the Dancin’ Moon Songcast at https://scottsimpsonmusic.podbean.com/
Songs
Soundboard
Messages left for you by other fawmers.
Happy to! Give me a couple days, I’ll break out the real deal and do a non-ai for my 13th this year!
Not sure what post production steps you do now but this video might be of interest:
Thanks! I’ll check it out! I’ve been using Landr’s ai-based mastering, but this looks more tailored to Suno’s output.
You have to break Suno files apart into stems and fix each bit individually before reassembling, mixing and finally mastering.
Scott...me too... trying to use AI based on guitar/vocals and lyric.... and as you can tell on my site here ...it doesn't get any attention... I have used it for demos for artists and labels some... but not sure totally how it is being responded to ..there. I guess...to some degree... if they knew me and my process they might like them more. Kind of cold calling in most cases....David
Suno has made some real strides for true musicians with their “studio” if you have a paid account. Great for adding vocal harmonies to your recorded vocals or adding an instrumental solo.
Hi, Scott, I just sent you an email about a possible collab.
Awesome @greengrassgirl I just replied. Let me know! 😁
I’ve got nothing today. So I decided to write some poetry as if Charles Bukowski and Tom Waits had a love child. I was wondering if you’d be inspired to collab, break out the resonator* and create a bluesy track and read this like a beatnik tone poem over it. (*or anything that strikes your fancy). If not, no problem it was fun to write.
A distant symphony of snowblowers gnaws at the morning— metal teeth chewing through my apology for last night.
Fresh snow on the ground, already being violated, thrown in high, glittering arcs that fall back down as slush.
Chain-link fences hunched over, like rusted out old men in unheard prayer. December light limps across the roads To an inflatable Santa bowed to the drift, half-buried, permanently waving.
The sky’s the color of tired dishwater. Cold smells like nickels and old keys. Kids practice their joy indoors like it’s something you rehearse before the door busts open.
In my apartment the radiator knocks like it’s got a warrant. The tree from the gas station leans against the wall like it’s tired of pretending it grew up somewhere beautiful.
Outside, the snowblowers start again— clearing, carving, correcting— while the fences keep their silence. I pour another drink and toast the white blanket, covering up the beer cans and cigarette butts in the gutter like it was doing the city workers a favor—
the snow, the machines, the white ground already bruised by boots. Christmas hums on the wires. Bright. Electric. Unblinking.
And somewhere, in a house too loud with laughter, a barcalounger sits empty while the snow keeps falling soft as something no one’s listening to.