As AI-Artist Xania Monet Climbs the Charts, Victoria Monét’s Caught in the Uncanny Valley

Grammy-winning singer, songwriter, and producer Victoria Monét has built her career on turning emotion into melody, writing hits for stars like Ariana Grande, Blackpink, and Coco Jones, as well as recording her own deeply personal records. Her songs are intimate, intentional, and overtly shaped by her voice, vision, and human collaboration. So when Xania Monet, an AI-powered R&B “artist” bearing a similar name, reportedly landed a $3 million record deal with Hallwood Media and started charting, the corporeal Monét felt uneasy. “Monet” also sonically evokes the name of another musician, Janelle Monáe, adding an additional layer to the confusion. (Hallwood Media did not respond to a request for comment.)

Monét can’t definitively say that the AI artist was trained on her music, but the resemblance feels uncanny. “It’s hard to comprehend that, within a prompt, my name was not used for this artist to capitalize on,” she tells Vanity Fair. “I don’t support that. I don’t think that’s fair. When that name starts to ring bells in a certain way, it can easily be mixed up with my brand. It’s not ideal.”

Even if the similarity is just a coincidence, that’s beside the point. Monét says when one of her friends typed a random prompt into ChatGPT, asking it to create a photo of “Victoria Monét making tacos” in a fictional setting, the image generator produced a woman who looked eerily like the emerging AI artist.

As the first AI artist to hit a US radio airplay chart, Xania Monet has been met with heavy pushback. In an interview last Wednesday with CBS Mornings, Telisha “Nikki” Jones—the woman and lyricist who created the artificial artist and her sound—defended her practice. “Xania is an extension of me, so I look at her as a real person,” she said. “I just feel like AI…it’s the new era that we’re in. And I look at it as a tool, as an instrument, and utilize it.” (Jones has not yet responded to Vanity Fair’s request for comment.)

The anxiety surrounding AI’s role in music isn’t new: In September, Kehlani decried Xania Monét landing a record deal. Last fall, Beyoncé told GQ an AI song mimicking her voice “scared” her; the year before that, Cher blasted the tech for using her voice. In a January BBC interview, Paul McCartney said AI isn’t all bad, but it shouldn’t “rip creative people off.” Last year, in a public show of solidarity, more than 200 musicians—including Billie Eilish, Stevie Wonder, Kacey Musgraves, and the estates of Frank Sinatra and Bob Marley—signed an open letter demanding protection against AI systems that imitate artists’ likeness, voice, and sound.

In recent months, though, the manifestation of these fears has become more tangible and more personal. When AI first entered the conversation, it felt like an abstract threat; now, with artists like Xania Monet being offered multimillion-dollar deals and AI-generated songs like “Walk My Walk” charting, the lines between authenticity and authorship are blurring in real time.

For some record executives and tech investors, AI presents an enticing business opportunity. Promoting virtual performers allows them to leverage limitless content, faster turnaround times, and fewer expenses tied to human talent. But that acceleration also raises the stakes, forcing artists to confront a battle they didn’t expect, let alone sign up for. “It definitely puts creators in a dangerous spot because our time is more finite,” Monét says. “We have to rest at night. So, the eight hours, nine hours that we’re resting, an AI artist could potentially still be running, studying, and creating songs like a machine. How would any human ever compete with that?”

For artists working outside the industry’s top echelon, the uncertainty hits especially hard. In a statement to Vanity Fair, singer-songwriter and producer Ella Collier says she’s not shocked by the industry’s embrace of AI, citing capitalism as a defining force in the music business. But she hopes creatives won’t be replaced. “The necessity for humans to feel seen,” she adds, will “outrun any calculated solution.”

Liam Benayon, a songwriter and producer who cowrote pop-singer Adéla’s buzzy debut EP, The Provocateur, agrees, saying AI isn’t credibly creative. “It feels inexplicable, but to me, songwriting is so divine—words, melody, poetry—it comes from a spiritual place,” he says, adding with a laugh, “robots aren’t spiritual or divine.” Both he and Monét do, however, concede that AI can be useful for administrative tasks such as organizing calendars, drafting emails, and sifting through files. “It gives me more time to be creative,” Benayon says.

Monét is nevertheless concerned about the environmental cost of the technology, as well as “not knowing the ramifications” of how much energy even a single prompt uses. She wrestles with it, wondering, “Who is it affecting? In what neighborhoods are they building these energy centers for AI?” She thinks for a moment before admitting, “I’m just conflicted.”

There’s also the thorny question of legality. Roger Cramer, an entertainment attorney who has represented artists such as 2hollis, Ludacris, and Wu-Tang Clan, has watched clients grapple with their work being used to train AI models without permission. “These companies are scraping the internet, taking bits of songs, and claiming the result is transformational,” he says. “But the original work is in there; it can’t not be.” Repackaging and reselling creative content without paying the original creators is “completely unacceptable,” Cramer adds.

Cramer supports licensing models that compensate music creators whose work was used to train generative systems, though he’s skeptical of how effective disclosure mandates would be. “I have to say, what good will that do?” he asks, adding that fans will still listen to AI-generated music if they like it.

Monét, for her part, says she believes such music “should be labeled ‘artificial,’ the same way that food is.” The crux of the issue is simple: “We’re introducing a tool with a lot of potential, but without the guidelines to protect the people who may be affected by it the most, which would be the creators.”

Some music companies are trying to create guardrails to make AI less intrusive. Last year, a partnership between instrument manufacturer Roland Corporation and Universal Music Group led to the “Principles for Music Creation With AI,” a credo built on transparency, sustainability, and consent. “If you’re somebody who prefers not to engage with AI in any way, then you should have that option to say, ‘no,’” Paul McCabe, Roland’s senior vice president of research and innovation, tells Vanity Fair. He also believes compensation must be built into the system to ensure artists receive equitable treatment when their work informs AI tools. “We’re not interested in displacing humanity,” he says.