How I Taught My Computer to Write Its Own Music

I wanted to build the ideal collaborator. Was I ever surprised.

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Nautilus Magazine

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Panels decorated with mosaics based off sketches by Piero d’Orazio, 1996. Photo: DeAgostini/Getty Images

By John Supko

On a warm day in April 2013, I was sitting in a friend’s kitchen in Paris, trying to engineer serendipity. I was trying to get my computer to write music on its own. I wanted to be able to turn it on and have it spit out not just any goofy little algorithmic tune but beautiful, compelling, mysterious music; something I’d be proud to have written myself. The kitchen window was open, and as I listened to the sounds of children playing in the courtyard below, I thought about how the melodies of their voices made serendipitous counterpoint with the songs of nearby birds and the intermittent drone of traffic on the rue d’Alésia.

In response to these daydreams, I was making a few tweaks to my software — a chaotic, seat-of-the-pants affair that betrayed my intuitive, self-taught approach to programming — when I saw that Bill Seaman had just uploaded a new batch of audio files to our shared Dropbox folder. I had been collaborating with Bill, a media artist, on various aspects of computational creativity over the past few years. I loaded Bill’s folder of sound files along with some of my own into the software and set it rolling. This is what came back to me:

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Nautilus
Nautilus Magazine

A magazine on science, culture, and philosophy for the intellectually curious