This Isn't the NFT Boom. Here's How I Know.
Someone on LinkedIn compared what we do here to buying a cartoon ape.
I've been thinking about that comment for a bit. Not because it stung, but because it's the version of the "bubble" argument that deserves a real answer.
Here is what Ron Steele said:
"I've seen this pitch before. In 2021 it was a JPEG of a cartoon ape. The language was identical — 'entry points,' 'serious' buyers, tiered access. The platforms got rich. The course sellers got rich. The people who got 'serious' ended up with a folder full of assets nobody wanted."
That's a sharp observation. If AI music production were a speculative asset class, he'd be right.
But it isn't. Here is why.
The Anatomy of a Bubble
NFTs had one value proposition: The Greater Fool Theory. The only reason to buy was the hope that someone else would pay more for it later. There was no utility. No skill that compounded. No craft that improved. When the buyers dried up, the value went to zero overnight because there was no floor holding it up.
The people who got burned weren't bad at anything. They were just holding an asset with zero utility.
The Utility Floor
In the Red Lab, we aren't trading assets. We are developing leverage.
The Skill: When a member spends three hours wrestling with a style prompt to capture the sound in their head, they are learning a transferable skill — AI direction. That knowledge doesn't vanish when a platform updates. It compounds.
The Catalog: When a guitarist uses AI to fill the rhythm section gaps he can't afford to hire out, he isn't holding a bag. He's building a catalog. Those songs can be licensed, pitched to sync supervisors, and registered for royalties. The value is in the production, not a resale market.
The Experience: When a lyricist finally hears her words as a finished arrangement after forty years of waiting, the value is immediate. The connection is real. You can't bubble an emotional breakthrough.
The floor on what we build isn't a secondary market price. The floor is the music itself, the craft behind it and the human authorship embedded in it.
The Ethics of the Instrument
Another commenter, Gordon Johnstone, asked about the moral qualms of AI models trained on artists' work without compensation.
I'm not going to pretend this isn't a massive, unsettled conversation. It is. Anyone who tells you the legal and ethical landscape is simple is lying to you.
But here is my standard: Lane 2. Human-authored, AI-assisted production. The creator writes the lyrics. The creator defines the artist's identity. The creator makes every structural decision. The AI is the instrument — the human is the musician.
This isn't a pivot. It's a standard. It is specifically designed to put human creative authority at the center — because that is both the ethical position and the only one the U.S. Copyright Office currently recognizes.
What I See in the Lab
Ron's NFT comparison misses the most important part: the people in this movement aren't investors hoping for a payout. They are creators obsessed with the work.
The member mapping out chord progressions for an entire album isn't speculating — he's composing. The singer-songwriter pitching demos to sync companies for the first time in a decade isn't buying a JPEG — she's building a career.
These aren't people who got talked into a speculative play. They are people who finally found a tool that matches the scale of their ambition.
That's not a cartoon ape. That's a studio.
— Josh / Founder, JG BeatsLab
Red Lab Access is where serious creators master these workflows. 151+ members worldwide. One price, lifetime access, everything we publish going forward. jgbeatslab.com/red-lab-access
