Hi everyone,
I’m in the midst of researching Part Two of Beautiful Possibility, and also wrestling with an especially stubborn chapter of “A Complicated Passion.” All of it is tortuously slow going, because summer is my absolute worst season for doing any kind of creative or intellectual work. This isn’t because I’m distracted with fun in the sun — quite the opposite. Summer in New England certainly has its charms, but neither my brain nor my creative spirit thrives in bright light. There’s a reason most of Part One of Beautiful Possibility was written in the deep winter.
This is (mostly) why I'm way behind on questions. So let’s see if I can address one of them this week.
More than one person has asked or commented about my voice. These voice-related questions/comments — I confess — tend to get me a bit grouchy. As much as they’re intended (I think) as compliments, I’d much prefer people focus on and respond to the content of Beautiful Possibility. And I’m somewhat worried that my voice has become something of a distraction from that content.
But it is what it is, so—
Yes, it’s 100% really me, no gimmicks, no tricks, and absolutely positively no AI.
I tried with AI, I really did. I didn’t want to be like the luddites who booed Dylan when he went electric at the ‘65 Newport Folk Festival. But AI is in no way the same thing as plugging into an amplifier. Putting aside the ethical implications, my relationship with AI ended when ChatGPT insisted that Yoko Ono was John’s high school English teacher and no amount of persuasion on my part could dissuade it.1
Not being a visual artist outside of photography and basic graphic design, I did experiment a bit with AI graphics for the initial announcement of Beautiful Possibility. But that was a one-time experience — sterile and unsatisfying, like making love in a sex laboratory. I’ve left that graphic on The Abbey, despite being constantly tempted to delete it, as a testament to the failed relationship between me and any kind of AI, until such time as it becomes Data on Star Trek.
But I digress. The point is, my voice — on The Abbey or anywhere else you might hear it — is my real voice, full stop. And always will be.
That isn’t to say, though, that I just hit “record” on my phone and leave it at that. That’s a bit more to getting good audio, even when a real voice is involved.
I have a simple-but-effective home recording studio set-up with a good Neumann microphone, a shock mount and pop-screen. And I do some basic audio sweetening — removing breath noise, softening “P” pops and hard consonants, and adding a bit of EQ. But that’s just the basic things that that anyone with any kind of rudimentary recording knowledge would do. (btw, I might be looking for someone to help with the post-production part of things for Part Two. If you’re interested, email Robyn and let her know.)
Most of what you’re hearing, though, is probably because I’m also a singer with a decent amount of recording studio experience, mostly in Nashville. And it’s also the result of a lifetime of public speaking experience, beginning when I was in junior high school and up to the present day.
This isn’t to say that I’m “performing,” when I record for The Abbey. At least I try not to. But if you have any kind of serious onstage or recording experience, you probably know that being faced with a microphone tends to trigger a subtle psychological shift from "everyday voice” into “studio voice.” It’s not necessarily a conscious shift. It’s just the result of habit and experience.
And finally, you’ve probably noticed by now that whether it’s spoken or written, I have a deep respect for the power of language. To speak aloud especially is to engage in the ancient art of spellcasting, which literally means to affect change by speaking words in a prescribed sequence. That means all writers, singers, poets, storytellers and broadcasters are, whether they intend or not, sorcerers with the (literally) awesome power to change the world in large and small ways.
I don’t take that power lightly — especially given that the mission of The Abbey is to restore the lifeforce love to the sacred story that forms the foundational mythology of our world. There’s a lot at stake here. When I record a piece for The Abbey, it’s not something to be done casually. I want to get it as right as I can, in every way that I can.
So I hope that answers the questions. And again, as lovely as it is that most of you seem to find my voice reasonably pleasant to listen to, I’d be far happier with a focus on the content of Beautiful Possibility and why it matters so much that we heal this story. I hope my voice and the care I take in recording helps convey that message. But it’s the message that matters.
Until next week.
Peace, love, and strawberry fields,
Faith ❤️
PS Questions can, as always, be emailed to Robyn. I’ll get to all of them eventually.
The unreliability of AI — along with a commitment to the sanctity of human creativity over tech — is why my fab research assistant Robyn is banned from using AI in any way at all relative to research. AI simply can’t get anywhere near the research standards for Beautiful Possibility and this story already has enough trouble with the truth without introducing AI (which is fed on the distorted narrative) into it.
I obviously have no standing to impose the same ban on those of you who are generous enough to volunteer your research time, but I do hope that your research, too, is human rather than AI. Even beyond its inaccuracies, AI is fundamentally counter to the spirit of Beautiful Possibility, which celebrates the power of lifeforce love as the creation force of the universe — something AI is not capable of feeling.