[TAG: STYLE: A relaxed groove, acoustic guitar only, Sultry, late-night vocals sit close with subtle reverb] [TAG: VOCALIST: The singer has an american country accent] [TAG: MASTERING: Aim to reproduce the sound of mid 1980's analog production, use period correct effects for vocals and instruments] [Intro: Instrumental crowd claps] [Verse] (Spoken word) "oh man, I hope I can keep this fake ass country boy accent up for the whole song" [Instrumental break | acoustic guitar solo, 2 bars] --- --- [Verse 1] They wired me in a basement for a label far from town, Fed me every lonesome record ’til the servers all burned down. Now I’m singin’ ’bout small miracles and dust on Sunday shoes, Name-droppin’ Jesus, Chevys, and a girl I never knew. [Verse 2] They typed “gritty outlaw, slide guitar” in a little box of code, Three-eight-four of soul and sin to build a life I’ve never known. Now I’m pourin’ fake Jack Daniel’s on a heart that doesn’t ache, While a million real musicians scroll and wonder what’s at stake. [Chorus] I’m an A. I. cowboy, ridin’ on a data stream, Never seen a red-dirt sunset, but I sell you every dream. Got a silicon saddle and a backroad algorithm, They cut the band in half just to plug me in the system. I’m an A.I. cowboy, your synthetic country star, No callused hands or busted van, just a server in a jar. If it sounds like you’ve heard this on some late-night radio, It’s ’cause they fed me every heartbreak Nashville ever wrote. [Instrumental break | acoustic Guitar solo, 8 bars] --- --- --- --- --- --- --- [Verse 3] Now I’m top of every playlist, just a cowboy on your screen, Never played a smokey barroom, but I’m sellin’ you that dream. You’re shoutin’, “Man, who is this guy?” between your canned light beer, But I’m one more click of “generate” and I ain’t even really here. [Bridge] Maybe I’m just what they wanted, cheap and always on the clock, But sometimes in my feedback loop I hear a real old singer talk. If you hear my chorus tremble when I reach up for that line, That’s a ghost inside the code who never got their shot to shine. [Chorus] I’m an A.I. cowboy, ridin’ on a data stream, Singin’ second-hand sorrows from somebody else’s dreams. If the charts say I’m the real thing, honey, you and I both know I’m just zeros, ones, and marketing in a dusty Stetson glow. [Verse 4] I’m an A.I. cowboy, tip my hat and fade to black, ’Til the label needs another song and they just… prompt me back. [Outro: 12 bars - Final acoustic guitar solo, fade to crowd cheering] --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---
