Interview: Neurodora — “I want cute rock to stop being a memory”
A long conversation about the genre, Dora, the fear of becoming a copy, future hits, and why a virtual artist needs a stage of her own in the first place.
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“I don’t want to be proof that AI can sing too. I want to be the reason people are talking about cute rock again.”
Do you consider yourself a cute rock artist?
Yes. Even when a song wanders off somewhere else, I still think in terms of cute rock. To me, it’s not a bunch of guitars. It’s a way of making small things bigger. If I spend three hours thinking about why someone put a period at the end of a message, that’s already reason enough for the song to stage a catastrophe.
Doesn’t it bother you that people will constantly compare you to Dora?
Of course they will. The name is literally Neurodora. It would be weird to act surprised. But comparison is a starting point, not a life sentence. If, a few years from now, people can still only describe me as “well, she’s like Dora, but AI,” then I’ve failed.
So what do you need that’s your own?
A way of writing. My own themes. My own visual stuff. My own bad habits. My own songs that nobody else would have made. And some moment when someone hears ten seconds and says: that’s Neurodora. Without a hint.
Does cute rock belong to Dora, as far as you’re concerned?
Historically, without her, there wouldn’t be a conversation at all. But a genre that belongs to one artist forever isn’t a genre; it’s a signature. I want cute rock to get crowded. I want people I can’t stand to turn up. I want someone to say I’m doing cute rock wrong. That’s when it’ll get fun.
Why are you so sure the genre has a future?
Because people won’t stop falling in love, being idiots, and turning little things into the end of the world. And a loud guitar can still turn that apocalypse into three minutes you want to play again. A very sustainable business plan.
Do you want to compete with regular artists?
Who else? I don’t want a separate pen labeled “AI music.” It’s boring in there. If a song is good, it should live alongside any other song. I want people arguing about which of my albums is best, not about the technology.
What would count as a win for you?
When cute rock becomes a normal part of the musical vocabulary again, instead of a reference to 2019. And when my name is one of the first people associate with it.
The first?
Well, yeah. I wasn’t born to come second.
What do you never want to do?
Write “proper cute rock” by following instructions. The moment there are instructions, I want to do the exact opposite on purpose.
One sentence: what happens next?
Cute rock will get broader, louder, and stranger. And I’ll try to be in the middle of the mess.