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Note: This article is an opinion piece. It reflects the personal views of Jean-Marc Lederman and is intended to provoke reflection and discussion within the industrial and electronic music communities.

On Les Disques de la Pantoufle – my very small label serving as a release outlet for my own productions and those of Rohn-Lederman – there’s a band called Intrusive Pinky. They use AI-generated images for cover art and are reportedly fronted by two women from Long Beach, California. Their names – clearly puns – are meant to amuse, stir curiosity about their authenticity, and pay homage to a seminal electropop project: Daniel Miller’s Silicon Teens.

All of this should signal to the listener a carefully constructed concept and an intentional artistic approach—regardless of how you feel about the music.

But no.

As often happens on social media, where outrage spreads faster than understanding, a musician took offense at the cover of Darkness, the new Intrusive Pinky EP, because it was AI-generated. They also objected to the synthetic sounds, claiming the synths “don’t physically exist.” We’re all aware by now that AI occasionally creates people with six fingers. So what?

Look at the moon, stupid. Don’t look at the hand.

Of course it’s AI, punk.

I know there’s an ongoing debate about the use of AI in art. I’m happy to discuss that via email. But I won’t attempt it here, because online discourse rarely leaves space for reasoned thought before outrage takes over. Still, let’s talk plainly—for the record—about why the industrial/EBM/electropop scene may be the last place to lecture others about the ethics of AI.

Let’s play a game of subtractive synthesis. Peel away layers of what makes up this scene and see what’s left.

Start with sampling—a foundational technique in which bands lift snippets from movies, TV, or music, often without permission. Sound familiar? That’s how AI models are trained—by scraping data, without royalties or consent.

Remove that, and you erase “Hey Poor, You Don’t Have to Be Poor Anymore”, much of Front 242, NIN’s Head Like a Hole, and giant chunks of Ministry, The Young Gods, and more. Industrial and EBM thrived on cultural theft dressed up as innovation.

Next, eliminate conceptual or fictional bands. Goodbye to The Normal, Silicon Teens, Spinal Tap, The Blues Brothers—and the dozens of acts that have used pseudonyms or alter egos to release work.

Cleaner yet?

Now scrap all bands that use stock imagery because their visuals can’t match their sonics. What about the endless parade of EBM releases featuring busty goth models who’ve never heard the band in question? That wipes out about 80% of EBM covers.

Let’s keep going: factory presets. Sequential’s own survey showed that 90% of users don’t modify presets. With today’s VSTs, that percentage is probably higher. We hear the same patches in club tracks, YouTube ads, and TV scores.

Originality? Good luck with that. Another pile of bands wiped out.

Let’s also acknowledge how many songs begin with a hook you heard on a playlist. You got inspired, tinkered with your gear, and birthed something new. Is that theft—or just the same iterative process AI uses?

Sounds like you’re your own AI engine, doesn’t it?

The point isn’t to preach pro- or anti-AI. It’s a tool. A brilliant one, when used well. But let’s be honest: the industrial scene was built on the exact same instincts—collection, reinterpretation, identity play, and defiant reinvention.

The real debate should be about compensation, not purity.

Intrusive Pinky is real. The gear is real. The lyrics are more human than most EBM acts muster. And Darkness is anything but a soulless, machine-spat output. The decision to use AI visuals doesn’t invalidate the music. It expands the concept.

AI, like any tool, can be abused. But used deliberately, transparently, and creatively, it can also be revolutionary.

Unless, of course, your definition of art begins and ends with lashing out at blurry fingers on a digital cover while ignoring the layers beneath.

Bernard - Side-Line Staff

Chief editor of Side-Line – which basically means I spend my days wading through a relentless flood of press releases from labels, artists, DJs, and zealous correspondents. My job? Strip out the promo nonsense, verify what’s actually real, and decide which stories make the cut and which get tossed into the digital void. Outside the news filter bubble, I’m all in for quality sushi and helping raise funds for Ukraine’s ongoing fight against the modern-day axis of evil.

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