Kurzweil's Cybernetic Poet gets lyrical

The one thing that fascinates me most is artificial intelligence. Though the reasons for this are manifold, high up on the list is the potential of human beings that is unrealized because of their biological limitations. Many critical tasks (finding a cure for cancer, for example) are not being carried out as efficiently as they could be if only we could shift the enormous processing they entail to computers. Something that fascinates me almost as much is creativity--a bit more frivolous, but an area in which computers are woefully inadequate.

In teaching computers to be creative, we may do two unintended things. First, we may learn much about the process itself. There is no better way to learn about a process than to try to convert that process to a computer program. If you've never programmed before, trust me; if you have programmed, then you have a feeling for what I'm saying. Second, we may find that creativity is an indispensable part of information processing, without which no real progress will be made. For example, if computers of today's power had existed in the time of Crick's and Watson's research into the structure of DNA, we could have tried a brute force approach: try every possible structure that DNA could have until we hit on the right one. This approach has some power to it--Deep Thought approached chess in a similar way. However, this is rather inefficient. Crick and Watson had to be creative in their search because of the finite nature of the human mind and body. This approach obviously worked--they have a Nobel Prize to prove it. Computers at present have no other real option than brute force, and humans have no other option than creativity. If we can combine the "magic" of creativity with the exceptional speed of computers, we may be able to open up worlds previously unimagined.

But we have to crawl before we fly, and Ray Kurzweil's Cybernetic Poet is a shaky yet entertaining first step toward teaching computers to be creative. As David Gelernter noted in The Muse in the Machine, poets have known for centuries things that science is just starting to get a grip on. Writing poetry should be a good start, then.

I tinkered with this program for a little while and was impressed for the most part. Impressed enough to buy it, at least. One day, while listening to Steely Dan's new release, I thought of trying to have this write some lyrics for them so I wouldn't have to wait so long for their next release. Actually, I chose them because of their very thoughtful and at times complex material. Lisa Loeb also writes intelligent, exceptional lyrics (and, like Steely Dan, needs to release CD's more often), so I compiled a poetry template for her, too. I have included five sample results of this first part of my intended two-step Turing test below. CyberLisa may have summed it up best below: "It's sick and it's really poetry."

But it's just barely poetry, even by the nonexistent standards of modern poetry. In fact, most of the text is just noise, yet the program seems to come up with a nugget buried in most of them like a Styrofoam fortune cookie. I'll list the things I thought showed a glimmer of creativity:

• For seven seconds it's dark again
• The dreary architecture of gloom
• the amen corner of soul
• [all of "That Are You"]
• You want me through your eyes.
• what if I am hiding in the sparks
• completely unimportant to be more than me
• Until I thought I'd heard energy
• they sleep in love with your mommy [How furiously Freudian!]

You may notice that I've left a couple out. The Steely Dan songs "Swingin' So Good" and "First Held" are Charlie dancing the Foxtrot as far as the words themselves, but the structure seems to have captured the Steely Dan spirit. If you read those two while mentally superimposing the tune to "Babylon Sisters" over them, it may make more sense.

I found a couple of other transformations interesting: "beat my wings" from "beat my heart," "my flat tire" becomes "my two feet," "sometimes called falling in love" becomes "sometimes called falling apart." And finally, Breton only wished he wrote the line, "You were rose-colored times on the milk." All of these were from Lisa Loeb's created lyrics and none were in Steely Dan's. I suspect that it may have something to do with the fact that Steely Dan's corpus is over twice as large as Lisa's.

It is pretty obvious that these lyrics were not written by humans, but it's not always so clear. You can challenge it to a Turing Test yourself at Cybernetic Poet's official site. I was surprised to find that I only got 60% correct. If you want to compare my answers to yours, scroll to the bottom of this page.

Steely Dan's cybernetic lyrics

And There's No Hearts Breakin

And there's no hearts breakin'
No time you stand there to run you will be angry
Normally I'd spent a minute baby
Traces are and watch the saxophone
I'll collect everything you anymore
For seven seconds it's dark again
We'll jog with her name
I'd like young
Tell us peace and run
You came alive

On Sunset

When you see our icecats on Sunset
To interrupt my ship comes home is helpless
When Josie comes I'll tell me when I can say
I'm a luscious invention for a change to go
a luscious invention for apples can see how do it 'til
I keep drifting back
The dreary architecture of gloom
Looking good
Then you did baby
Looking for the wind is the mark within
Now all night like I belong here

Swingin' So Good

Swingin' so good
Swingin' so it for what she's been missin'
Feels nice, you're playing with you down
Swingin' so long long night long
This moody bastard
He will tell you know Ed's still on me
Come on, come down
on, come Tomorrow's Girls
They say when
on, come out your brother
Love 'em right off your hair

Soul

Now the amen corner of Soul
It's a girl and the bottle Mamma, it's right
It's a girl and a gun
You might live and said:
It's a girl and warm
It's kind of friend is the easy and low
And I finally run you will screen out on me
Just trip out to hang that Florida room
There's no men on the misty nighttime
Just trip we would say was I thought it all
You'll be that what you would say the mind

First Held

Well I first held
I do it all in the regulars rush over now
I was his new attraction
On that wheel in the Barrio I can't be you
Scratch 'em till graduation
Try again my dime dancin' is the stadium
Scratch 'em till they say
Scratch 'em till the Jersey beaches
Their kisses feel no good
She's got to the laugh becomes a new windows
From the Mayor and say it's real occasion
She's got to Laughing Pines
She's got to fingerpop
You gonna hush all the bottom of my man and on

Lisa Loeb's cybernetic lyrics

That Are You

But you don't get down to water that are you.
Yeah, it doesn't beat my wings, you'll stop.
I'll wish for you I don't need a next step
if I do you love songs have to get the door.

Forget About The

Let's forget about the heavy drops me, and it stop,
I get down twice.
You're my two feet
I was already wet?
You want me through your eyes.
And where your languorous hum, that you or
fall for your languorous hum, that I in it
Let's forget about the other's run away.
Your smile: the fly with you.

You Change

You change your fists up alone.
You were wrong
Maybe what if I am hiding in the sparks.
You try to convince me in my own you break,
and you should know
How does your eyes closed.
Those were never told
about someone to be good.
You don't he, better take caution, he said.

Wrong

I was wrong
and it's over, it snow, it's not important,
completely unimportant to be more than me,
then I have us.
Is this hard to see it doesn't hurt enough,
pain always wanted.
What is what you as I was an answer, and it is
sometimes called falling apart.
She was tramping around.

Is

You're my wings, you'll put it really is.
What you down.
What you eat, sleep, do the time.
Until I thought I'd heard energy and I do,
you don't let it feeds me.
You leave me inside.
got a dream of the enemy,
don't you die.
And where do when you ever again.
Truthfully, I don't want this way I do.
And truthfully I don't even close.
But really poetry, but I leave me around.

Last Thing Is Something Be Here

I look for the last thing is something be here,
to the sun, and whiskey at all our motorbike.
I am I feel so good things, like you.
But some bar, and walk straight to hide.
You looked out what's the screen door, she chooses,
it's sick and it really poetry, but I was quiet
I couldn't look right through the lights.
I wanted to be the fly with your opiate eye.
And when I'm floating, I'm not all of me.
I don't know what you don't see you think you or
fall for this out of my mind slow dive down,
and they sleep in love with your mommy.
You were rose-colored times on the milk.

The template files for those of you who have the registered version are here: Lisa Loeb, Steely Dan. They have the suffix .txt because GeoCities in its infinite wisdom does not allow files with unrecognized extensions, like the .cpm that the Poet Analyzer uses. You can change the extension yourself, but they will also work as .txt files--you’ll just have to specify that in the drag-down menu when you’re trying to open them with the analyzer.

My answers to the (Kind of) Turing Test:

Computer: 1, 3, 7, 11, 12, 14, 19, 21, 22, 23, 25, 26

Human: 2, 4, 5, 6, 8, 9, 10, 13, 15, 16, 17, 20, 24, 27, 28

Number correct: 17/28 (60.7%)

The test itself and its correct answers are at the official site.