Artist 1010Benja is challenging preconceptions about AI-generated music with his track “Semiramis’ Dream,” a song that even self-described AI skeptics are finding hard to dismiss. The Verge’s weekend editor Terrence O’Brien — who generally finds generative AI music “offensively boring” — admitted he “actually quite enjoys” the track, calling it a rare example of Suno being used as more than a “slop engine.”
A Different Kind of AI Music
“Semiramis’ Dream” opens 1010Benja’s latest EP, Time Has Nothing To Do With What You Choose…, and immediately sets itself apart from typical AI-generated fare. The song explodes out of the speakers with a jungle beat anchored by Benja’s unmistakably human vocals. Even the most obviously AI-generated elements — a choir of backup vocalists — are cleverly camouflaged within hyperpop-influenced rapid-fire chops.
“Heavily processed and artificial-sounding vocals are a staple of many modern pop genres,” O’Brien notes, “and by leaning into that uncanniness, Benja is able to mask their origins.”
The Process Behind the Sound
What separates “Semiramis’ Dream” from the endless sea of Suno-generated content is Benja’s meticulous workflow. In an interview with Hearing Things, he explained his iterative approach:
“My friend Patrick Holder did the beat. I recorded the vocals. Then we fed Suno the elements, settled on something, brought it out, edited it on Ableton, and then put it back into Suno. So when you look in Deezer, it marks the song as AI-generated. We’re not hiding it. We don’t feel any shame about it.”
Benja wrote the lyrics, sang the vocals, and collaborated with musicians to perform the core instrumentation. He then fed these elements into Suno, took the AI output into Ableton for editing, added more layers, and sent it back through Suno again — repeating the cycle hundreds of times for this single track.
Transparency and Ethical Tension
Despite his embrace of the technology, Benja is under no illusions about the ethical baggage that comes with generative AI. He acknowledges the environmental damage and the broader concerns about AI’s impact on creative industries, though he takes a somewhat nihilistic view: “The good guy doesn’t win this one,” he says.
His motivation is rooted in economic reality. “The only reason I’m using gen at all is because my visions are currently far beyond my means,” Benja explained. “People have been asking me, ‘Did you use gen AI for this EP?’ I’m like, [sarcastically] ‘No, I hired a professional children’s choir.’ What are we talking about? I haven’t paid rent last month, and I won’t pay rent this month.”
Despite earning Pitchfork’s coveted Best New Music designation for his 2024 album Ten Total, Benja remains a struggling artist who has endured periods of homelessness.
AI as a Tool, Not a Crutch
What makes “Semiramis’ Dream” noteworthy is not that it proves AI is the future of music — the Verge’s O’Brien still remains “deeply skeptical of AI art.” Rather, it demonstrates that in the right hands, even a tool like Suno can produce something genuinely compelling when treated as one component in a broader creative process rather than a shortcut.
The song is clearly marked as AI-generated on streaming platforms like Deezer, and Benja has been unapologetic throughout. “We’re not hiding it,” he insists. “We don’t feel any shame about it.”
As the debate over AI in music continues to intensify — with recent controversies including Suno allegedly scraping millions of songs from YouTube and artists like SZA speaking out against AI — 1010Benja’s work offers a nuanced case study in how generative tools might find a legitimate place alongside traditional musicianship rather than replacing it entirely.