In 1968, the Small Faces frontman Steve Marriott sang that on a lazy Sunday afternoon, he “had no mind to worry”. More than 50 years later, his daughter Mollie would probably like to close her eyes and drift away too, but instead finds herself leading a campaign to protect her father’s legacy. A gifted vocalist in her own right, who grew up knowing the rock stars of Marriott’s generation as close family friends, Mollie has launched a crusade against the new releases created by means of artificial intelligence in general — and those featuring the voice of the former Small Faces and Humble Pie singer in particular. It has become a test case in the ever-escalating battle between AI and human sweat, toil and talent.
Last month, Mollie and her siblings Lesley, Toby and Tonya published an open letter, endorsed by the musicians Robert Plant, David Gilmour, Paul Weller, Bryan Adams, Paul Rodgers and Marriott’s former bandmate Peter Frampton. Together, they deplore the potential release of an album based on Marriott’s voice, as “learnt” and imitated by modern technology. Depending on your point of view, these new songs will either bring the singer back into the room or steal his soul.
Their letter decries a landscape in which “deceased artists have no rights and … everything natural in this world is truly dying, including creativity and the arts, as AI comes into play”. Of this dystopian face-off, Plant adds: “This is a far cry from what any of us dreamt of when we set off into this wonderful world of music. We just can’t stand by and watch this unfold.”
Marriott bestrode the mod scene and the pop charts of the 1960s, as vocalist and co-writer (with his bandmate Ronnie Lane) of such enduring Small Faces hits as All or Nothing, Itchycoo Park, Lazy Sunday and Tin Soldier. He went on to form Humble Pie, a band that became a bastion of 1970s rock, particularly in the US.
On a Zoom call from his home in Nashville, Frampton — who formed Humble Pie with Marriott, before launching his own solo career — recalls his bandmate as “one of the greatest rock’n’roll voices of all time. Robert [Plant] will say how much he was influenced by him and loved him, as would Paul Rodgers.”
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When Marriott died in a house fire in 1991, aged 44, he left no will. Under British law, his entire estate passed to his third wife, Toni, whom he had married in 1989. Toni Marriott is now the largest shareholder in the company that owns the rights to his estate, and has sanctioned the release of numerous compilations (legally, if against the wishes of her stepchildren) of live and alternate takes, including several on the Los Angeles indie label Cleopatra.
Now Marriott’s children fear that a deal has been struck for the release of an album in which AI would “learn” his voice for the creation of new songs. “They’re trying to train the AI to know his vocal processes, to create something new,” Mollie says. “That’s where I started kicking off, because Dad has no say in that. He’s not written it and he’s not sung it.”
Chris France, the managing director of Steve Marriott Licensing Ltd, denies the existence of an album and refutes any suggestion of greed. “Nothing could be further from the truth,” he tells me. A veteran industry executive who, in 1986, co-founded the noted British rap and hip-hop label Music of Life, France says he has “worked happily” with Toni for more than 25 years. But he does not deny that work has been done, with a view to releasing music, on the late star’s voice using AI.
“A track has been created using AI and machine learning from studio and live vocals owned by the Marriott estate,” he says. This version of Georgia on My Mind was recorded by live musicians, after which Marriott’s voice, taken from other recordings, was fed into the tech to create something in his style. “Both Toni and I are very pleased with the result,” France says. “But AI is improving every day, so we may wait to see how things develop in the next few months.”
Voice generator apps now abound, in which fans can create the sonic illusion of their heroes singing in the style of any other star. “But when it comes to actually making money from it, that’s when you’ve got to go ‘Hang on a minute’,” Mollie says.
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She believes there is more than her father’s reputation at stake. “It’s a much bigger conversation, but Dad is a really good place to start. Because when it comes to voices, he was known for having such a raw, energetic, real-life voice. And the way contracts were back then, when they signed their lives away, of course AI wasn’t a thing.”
France admits that he initially had qualms about the technology, and that Marriott and Frampton’s Humble Pie colleague Jerry Shirley tried “his hardest to get me to reconsider. But when [Toni and I] heard it, she loved what was recorded, as did I. She said to me ‘It’s like having Steve back in the room.’” When Shirley heard the results, he disagreed so vehemently that he too signed the siblings’ open letter.
Frampton has unhappy memories of his own first encounter with AI — when his acoustic, instrumental guitar track Baby, I Love Your Way was tampered with to sound as if John Lennon was singing the vocal. “It was shocking, to say the least,” he says.
The human voice, Frampton believes, should be sacrosanct. “It’s personal property and it’s like stealing someone’s soul. It’s very, very dangerous. I think we’re going down a path that we shouldn’t go down. I hope people will realise that it doesn’t really sound like the person. But the bottom line is, we have no say in this whatsoever. Unfortunately, technology goes faster than the law.”
• Music industry raises tempo in battle against AI
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France insists that opposition to the technology is largely generational. “As I was aware of the considerable doubt in the music business about AI, I decided to gauge reactions,” he says. “People were almost always against the concept if they were in the senior age bracket, ie over 50, but there was an almost entirely favourable reaction from anyone younger.
“Toni is very clear that she would love to introduce Steve’s voice to a new generation, who could then track back to the existing catalogue, rather than constantly recycling existing material to an ever-reducing, ageing fan base. I don’t like the idea of AI replacing human musical endeavour, but I do like the idea of carefully using technology to recreate an artist’s essence. So at the moment, we are at a crossroads.”
For me, the controversy has added depth when I remember an enjoyable interview with Marriott, followed by a visit to the pub, in 1989, just six days after he and Toni were married. Far from being on honeymoon, he was preparing for a gig the following night at the Half Moon pub in Putney. Always a reluctant pop star but an inveterate performer, his words assumed awful poignancy when he died less than two years later.
“I’ve got what I wanted,” he told me, “which is just enough money to live on, in no great style but a nice way. And to have some respect from other musicians and play the pubs and clubs — where the music’s still real.”
