It’ll be underwhelming yet ironic if Robbie Williams confirms Human is the song from Britpop written with generative artificial intelligence. “Written with” is not the right word. It implies it is just another tool, like a pen or a substance to smooth over the writing process. It is not. For Williams to use the eco-killing slop machine sets a dangerous precedent. Not just for other artists, like Bring Me the Horizon using lazy, generated images of Oasis because they are too cheap to buy one from Getty, but for the everyday person. People are already too quick to laugh at or engage with the lowest form of content. Williams adds it to his album, just one song, but it makes no difference. It taints the entire piece. A listener with some moral credence is now guessing which song is generated slop, and which are just the usual fodder from Williams and his writing team.
Human could be either, but it doesn’t change the mediocrity. Britpop began as an entertaining new moment for Williams. The Tony Iommi-featuring Rocket was a shot of dangerously exciting work from Williams, the first offering of such interest in years. Human, however, is a track trying to lift from the bands associated with the album title. A comical introduction to the song, which hauls in an overused phrase and a reaction many will use as a knee-jerk to the smallest of troubles, does not start Human off well. It does not get much better from there. Williams has offered a truly difficult listen. If his challenge to listeners is in testing their strength in the face of faceless writing and vacant music-making, he has truly created an audible waterboarding. It’s the floaty sentimentality which sticks out worst of all. Human feels, ironically, very robotic. Even if that were the point, it falls well short of the excitement made by the earlier singles.
A series of redundant, catchphrase-like lyrics ruins the potential Human has. What limited scope it has falls to pieces. The strongest will survive, sticks and stones, all of it feels so thrown together. If it were not written by an overrated piece of tech, then Williams’ team should be ashamed. Pop music at its best is about pushing ahead for listeners who feel they cannot do it themselves. Those bands that were built on the ugly Britpop term, the likes of Pulp and Oasis, do this consistently. Williams used to. That’s the crucial difference there. Williams has failed to find the difference between reliving the past and getting stuck in it. He cannot offer a convincing throwback to those days here, failing to offer some purpose or emotive hook beyond a view of heaven and an underwhelmed string section.
Musicians will tug at your heartstrings all they can, it is how they keep an audience. Some will do it with finesse and sincerity; others will go for the low-hanging fruit. Those who watched Better Man will no doubt be well-versed with Williams’ personal life and the struggles he had, and to use those emotionally charged moments, which worked so well in the biopic, as lyrical fodder here, is uncomfortable. A borderline cringe-inducing song where Williams suggests the sun shining is enough to bring a chemical balance in your brain. Comically simple at the best of times, because at least then, Williams is not bogged down in lazy writing. Be it by pen or by world-ruining tech, the result is all the same for bad writing. Human stands tall as an example of pop music depths, from a veteran of the genre who should know better at this point.
