For this last and final spike of 2026, things got a little strange.
I didn’t make a software product. I made a song. Even that feels generous—I didn’t compose it so much as prompt it into existence. I went to Suno.com, typed in a short description for a Christmas song, and a few minutes later a fully formed track came out the other side. That song eventually became “Bigger Than Santa’s Sleigh.”
This spike grew out of Spike 8, where I built Maximum Christmas. At one point, I thought it would be fun to have background music on the site, in the same way old MySpace pages would start playing a song as soon as you loaded them. I quickly decided that was more annoying than charming and dropped the idea.
But the act of creating something purely expressive still fit my definition of a spike: taking an idea and turning it into something you can show other people. So instead of shipping software, I shipped a song.
The Recipe
This was one of the simplest spikes I’ve done.
- Go to Suno.com and sign up for a one-month subscription.
- Type in a short prompt or lyrics. Mine was: “A Christmas song about getting bigger gifts from AI elves and robots.”
- Listen to the result, then refine the prompt and repeat.
- Download the MP4 once you’re satisfied.
- Go to CD Baby and pay a one-time $10 publishing fee.
- Work your way through the publishing interface and upload the song.
- Wait about two weeks.
At the end of that process, “Bigger Than Santa’s Sleigh” was available on roughly 20 different music platforms, including Spotify.
Is It a Good Song?
It’s a Christmas song, which already puts it in a strange category.
It’s catchy. It got stuck in my head more than once. I don’t particularly like it—but I also get worn out on Christmas music after the first week of December, so that may not be saying much. Objectively, it does exactly what it’s supposed to do. It sounds like Christmas music.
How Do I Feel About This?
I’m both impressed and a little disgusted.
The output is undeniably good. But there isn’t a real person behind it. I can’t help but think about how hard it is to write meaningful lyrics—how many years people spend trying to connect emotion to words, learning instruments, studying music theory, rehearsing with bands, and grinding through failed songs to maybe, eventually, land one that resonates.
And here, an AI generated a complete, listenable song in about three minutes.
I don’t feel like I deserve credit for it. The AI wrote the lyrics, composed the melody, created the hook, and produced the track. I nudged it a bit, but that’s it.
Where Is Music Going?
After using Suno, I think this is a real threat to platforms like Spotify and to the label model in general.
There’s a large category of music I listen to purely for ambiance: instrumental classical, jazz, New Orleans street music, background playlists that represent an emotional state. I have dozens of playlists that exist simply to help me feel or maintain a certain mood.
In those cases, the artist often doesn’t matter. The music just needs to fit the state I’m trying to be in.
Suno can generate an endless supply of music that fills that exact niche. For that kind of listening, I don’t actually need real artists anymore. If I’m thinking this way, I assume plenty of other people are too.
That’s the scary part.
If people aren’t discovering real artists because AI fills the ambient space so efficiently, where does discovery come from? It’s already hard to build an audience. Busking, small gigs, and niche followings are difficult enough without competing against infinite, on-demand music.
From a business standpoint, this is also disruptive. Spotify pays a significant portion of its revenue to labels and rights holders. Suno doesn’t. AI-generated music solves the functional problem of “I need music right now,” but it doesn’t actually create art in the traditional sense.
What Happens to Artists?
Oddly, I think this might push us back toward authenticity.
Shared, in-person experiences may become more valuable than passive listening. Going to a show with friends, seeing someone perform live, and knowing there’s a real human on the other side of the music might matter more—not less.
AI-generated music will be everywhere, quietly helping us regulate mood and emotion in private. But when we want something real—when we want connection—we’ll still need real artists.
At least, that’s what I hope.