Features
Upali Wijewardene – an enigma and a legend
by Ajith Samaranayake
Between Sri Lanka’s 35th independence anniversary and his birthday Upali Wijewardene boarded his executive Lear Jet at Kuala Lumpur and in a single fateful flash became solidified into an enigma and a legend. The flamboyant tycoon who had left with five others never arrived in Colombo. Somewhere over the Straits of Malacca the plane disappeared with not a clue or a trace.
The drama held the nation in its grip for months. Newspapers reported little else except the mystery of the disappearance. Speculation spread like a bush fire and as the days passed with no news the most fantastic cloak and dagger theories were spun. People gathered by the roadside to listen to the radio news bulletins and strangers become friends as they speculated about the fate of a man who was one of Sri Lanka’s most beloved sons.
Destined
For Philip Upali Wijewardene it was a strangely fitting apotheosis. It was as if his whole colourful career was destined for this final peak, this sudden and dramatic exit just as he was in the very centre of the public eye, a glorious accession to the heights of myth and legend.
For Upali’s life was of the kind which dreams are made of Though born to one of the most distinguished families in Colombo and into a charmed circle which constituted Sri Lanka’s ruling elite, Upali had carved out a career in an area totally aline to that class. He did not take to law or medicine or pursue an academic career as the more favoured sons of this affluent, anglicised and genteel elite were wont to do. Neither did he take to politics. On the contrary with nothing much except the most rudimentary capital and confidence in his own abilities he began a confectionery industry and business in a part of his ancestral home where such brushes with crude commerce had never before taken place. Down the years this fledgling business he was able to build and expand into a mighty conglomerate, Sri Lanka’s only multinational, until he acquired a worldwide reputation as Sri Lanka’s leading entrepreneur, an enterprising and shrewd businessman who could hold his own with the best of them in New York, London or Bonn.
But by February 13, that fateful day which again confirmed the hold of superstition, Upali’s mind was not preoccupied with his businesses alone. For about two years politics had replaced business as his central passion. The man who had conquered the commanding heights of commerce now wanted to conquer the commanding heights of politics. And like everything else he did, he wanted to do it soon.
In 1981 he had founded The Island and the Divaina which had immediately become the eye of the political storm. Their vigorous reporting and comments which did not spare even some of the most powerful politicians of the ruling UNP came as a stirring antidote to the flabby, tame-cat Lake House press which was then dominating journalism. Readers lapped up the new offerings avidly.
Upali Wijewardene’s name was bandied about freely in Parliament. He made no secret of the fact that he wanted to enter Parliament and become finance minister which raised the hackles of the Finance Minister, the fiercely combative Mr. Ronnie de Mel. It became quite commonplace for the bespectacled and owlish Minister to hurl fearsome thunderbolts at the absent Upali in Parliament while we parliamentary reporters of The Island in the absence of our owner became surrogates for the ministerial fury and the embarrassed focus of the eyes of our colleagues in the crowded press gallery of the old Parliament by the sea.
Following year
The following year was to be one of the most crucial in Sri Lanka’s politics. President Jayewardene, Upali’s cousin and mentor, called an early Presidential Election, and in the absence of his normal rival Mrs. Sirima Bandaranaike, incapacitated by her loss of civic rights, easily beat former Minister Hector Kobbekoduwa fielded by an SLFP in tatters. Then claiming that there was a Naxalite conspiracy to assassinate him if he had lost and claiming further that if General Elections were held on schedule a sizeable number of these horrendous Naxalites would enter Parliament he held a Referendum which the UNP won amidst widespread claims of thuggery, ballot-rigging, etc.
Anyway Upali was loyally by Jayewardene’s side during both campaigns, campaigning vigorously for the UNP at Kamburupitiya, his mother’s ancestral village, for which he had done much through his Ruhunu Udanaya programme for improving the conditions of villages in the South. The south he considered his heartland and it was from the South that he sought to enter Parliament for which there were vacancies even as he boarded his Lear Jet that day in the Malaysian capital.
Elections
For what had happened was that Jayewardene had asked for and received the resignations of 17 members of Parliament who had lost their electorates at the Referendum. Parliament had just been convened for the new session of the Second Jayewardene Presidency and the guns had boomed and the Jayamangala Gathas had been chanted. As that irrepressible Communist MP, the much lamented late Sarath Muttettuwegama quipped, “There was a 21-gun salute only the other day. And now 17 of you are gone.” Among the vacancies were Kamburupitiya and Devinuwara either of which Upali was planning to contest.
This was the backdrop to Upali’s destiny which during the next few weeks would hold the nation in its grip and virtually bring the country to a standstill. Among those on board with Upali in the plane which had left Malaysia’s Subang Airport at 8.41 p.m. on February 13 were Mr. Ananda Pelimuhandiram, the whiz kid Financial Director of the Upali Group and one of his most trusted lieutenants, a Malaysian lawyer Mr. S. M. Ratnam and Steward Mr. A. Senanayake. The jet was piloted by Capt. Noel Anandappa with Mr. Sidney de Zoysa as co-pilot.
They were to have reached Colombo by 9.45 p.m. that night but they did not come. Neither did they come the next day. By the morning of Monday February 14 Colombo was agog with the news. Soon it spread everywhere and the people paused in awe and wonderment as the enormity of the event sank into the public consciousness. Upali Wijewardene had mysteriously vanished with his three companions and two navigators leaving not a clue behind somewhere in that vast and empty night sky over Malaysia.
On Tuesday February 15 The Island, ‘Upali’s beloved flagship, broke the news soberly. Over a banner headline “Plane carrying Upali Wijewardene feared lost”. it told its readers that the jet had lost radio contact with the airport just 15 minutes after take off. The last message had said that the aircraft was at an altitude of 27,000 feet. Indonesia and Malaysia had launched a joint air and sea search operation but had failed to find any debris of an aircraft.
At The Island that Monday it was like something out of a novel by Kafka. We were in a daze. Was it possible that six people on board an aircraft in this miraculous age of technology could disappear without a trace? People huddled about the corridors talking, absorbing the news only slowly while the telephones rang incessantly as the other newspapers were getting in touch with us for the latest. But we could do little to shed light on the mystery. The most intensive search by several governments could not yield a single clue. These headlines from the papers which followed convey the flavour of those bizarre days.
February 16 —Air, sea search for Upali Wijewardene continues. Aussie plane may have seen missing jet.
February 17— Three planes with sophisticated equipment comb the ocean. No results yet from seven-notion search.
A flare and a weak signal but search proves negative. Search for missing plane in Andaman Island.
February 18 – Search for missing jet narrows to coastal area round Sumatra. Lear Jet reps suspect sabotage.
Wreckage
On the same day something happened which could well have been the tragic denouement of the whole drama but which was aborted at the last moment. On the afternoon of that Friday a Reuter report was received that the wreckage of the private jet and several bodies had been found off the Indonesian island of Sumatra. I was in Fort at the time having taken a brief respite from the bleak house at Bloemendhal Road. With me at one of Fort’s many hospitable hostelries where we were drinking more than usual was Joe Segera, the Daymon Runyonesque Lake House story teller and chronicler of Canal Row and Chandra S. Perera, the always nattily-dressed NBC reporter and man about town.
Slowly the story spread through Canal Row, Hospital Street and Baillie Street and people reacted with shock and grief. More pints were drunk and our senses numbed somewhat by what we had taken Chandra who had known Upali in London and had common friends with him and I repaired to Bloemendhal Road. There we were told by Editor Vijitha Yapa who had worked frenziedly during those days to bring out the paper in the midst of the tension that Reuter had denied the story within the hour. The next day The Island reported that it had been besieged with telephone calls following the story breaking. Reuters, Hong Kong had been contacted and The Island told ‘The story will be held back’, it reported.
And so the days passed. More headlines.
February 19 — Divers too join search near Sumatra. Another frustrating day of search.
February 21 — Top Sri Lanka cops arrive in KL for investigation.
Sabotage not ruled out.
February 22 — Wheel found by fishermen did come from Lear Jet. Oil slick found near Kumana not from Lear Jet. February 23 —Minesweepers deployed in Indonesia today to find Jet. Identification of Lear Jet wheel narrows search area. February 24 — If Lear Jet wheel was spare explosion may have occurred.
February 25 —Fishermen cleared: Minesweeper move into find jet. There was no black box on missing Lear Jet. February 26 — PM answers questions on Upali.
Unsolved
And so that unusually short month petered out sadly with the riddle unsolved. On the last day of February The Island headline was ‘Lalith thinks sabotage is likely cause of crash’. Under the by line of Lasantha Wickremetunge it said that the then Minister of Trade and Shipping Lalith Athulathmudali who had returned from Indonesia on February 26 as President Jayewardene’s special envoy had said that there were three possibilities for the disappearance of which the most likely was sabotage. Of the other possibilities, pilot error and a defect in the aircraft were most unlikely. Mr. Athulathmudali also stressed that his investigations had shown that Mr. Wijewardene had no commercial enemies. In a box in the same story the paper reported ‘Temporary halt to search’ saying that since the area searched by the minesweeper had yielded no clues the search; was being abandoned and would resume if fresh evidence is uncovered. Only a single wheel — the right outbourne wheel — of the whole aircraft was found.
And so ended a drama which had electrified the country that cruel month of February and still continues to bemuse the people. What happened to Upali? is still the most popular question asked by friends and acquaintances from anybody connected with the Upali Group. Upali fascinated the people in life and now that he is no longer to be found, lost somewhere in the vast ethereal emptiness, he has become a legend and a cult which continues to enthral the people. What would have happened if he had arrived in Colombo that February night with politics entering a fresh phase and plunged into what would have undoubtedly been d stormy political career will remain one of the most fascinating “Ifs”, of our contemporary political history.
Enigmatic fate
But what is clear is that the enigmatic fate of the man who built a commercial empire from nothing and captured a nation’s heart will always be looked upon with wonderment by them. Whether Upali could have stormed the commanding heights of politics by using the methods of advertising and self-promotion which he so successfully used in his business enterprises we will never know. Yet, like Icarus who flew but went too close to the sun so that his wings melted, the strange and fascinating destiny of Upali Wijewardene, Sri Lanka’s first tycoon who also chose the sun as his symbol, will always be a glorious legend of our times.
Newspaper
Looking back across ten more eventful years several memories crowd the mind. The memory which stands out most prominently is that of the collective effort to bring out the paper in the midst of the most terrible tension which could have pervaded any newspaper office. Editor Vijitha Yapa who was a loyal friend of Upali had to battle his feelings while he held the fort in the news room keeping in constant touch with the latest developments and answering the questions of local and foreign journalists. For him and Deputy Editor and News Editor Gamini Weerakoon it was a trial of endurance which they magnificently stood up to. Looking at the paper to which thousands turned during that fateful month for news of its proprietor there is no sign of the almost unbearable tension with which we were working.
Upali Mahattaya
Several days on end we did not go home and the bleak reaches of the night were spent on the bare office tables with the late K. C. Kulasinghe as my companion. Or some nights would be spent in the grimy digs of D. B. S. Jeyaraj located quite close to the Premil Sports Club which was often the hub of our social life where the owner, the late Rajendra Mudalali, would approach us sombrely, always dressed in spotless white sarong and shirt and inquire ‘Any news of Upali Mahattaya?’ And in the morning the sun would rise over the splendid dome of St. Lucia’s Cathedral and we would search the vast sky for an answer.
(This article first appeared in a supplement to mark the 10th anniversary of the disappearance of Upali Wijewardene and party on Feb 13, 1993)
Features
Ethnic-related problems need solutions now
In the space of 15 months, President Anura Kumara Dissanayake has visited the North of the country more than any other president or prime minister. These were not flying visits either. The president most recent visit to Jaffna last week was on the occasion of Thai Pongal to celebrate the harvest and the dawning of a new season. During the two days he spent in Jaffna, the president launched the national housing project, announced plans to renovate Palaly Airport, to expedite operations at the Kankesanthurai Port, and pledged once again that racism would have no place in the country.
There is no doubt that the president’s consistent presence in the north has had a reassuring effect. His public rejection of racism and his willingness to engage openly with ethnic and religious minorities have helped secure his acceptance as a national leader rather than a communal one. In the fifteen months since he won the presidential election, there have been no inter community clashes of any significance. In a country with a long history of communal tension, this relative calm is not accidental. It reflects a conscious political choice to lower the racial temperature rather than inflame it.
But preventing new problems is only part of the task of governing. While the government under President Dissanayake has taken responsibility for ensuring that anti-minority actions are not permitted on its watch, it has yet to take comparable responsibility for resolving long standing ethnic and political problems inherited from previous governments. These problems may appear manageable because they have existed for years, even decades. Yet their persistence does not make them innocuous. Beneath the surface, they continue to weaken trust in the state and erode confidence in its ability to deliver justice.
Core Principle
A core principle of governance is responsibility for outcomes, not just intentions. Governments do not begin with a clean slate. Governments do not get to choose only the problems they like. They inherit the state in full, with all its unresolved disputes, injustices and problemmatic legacies. To argue that these are someone else’s past mistakes is politically convenient but institutionally dangerous. Unresolved problems have a habit of resurfacing at the most inconvenient moments, often when a government is trying to push through reforms or stabilise the economy.
This reality was underlined in Geneva last week when concerns were raised once again about allegations of sexual abuse that occurred during the war, affecting both men and women who were taken into government custody. Any sense that this issue had faded from international attention was dispelled by the release of a report by the Office of the Human Rights High Commissioner titled “Sri Lanka: Report on conflict related sexual violence”, dated 13.01.26. Such reports do not emerge in a vacuum. They are shaped by the absence of credible domestic processes that investigate allegations, establish accountability and offer redress. They also shape international perceptions, influence diplomatic relationships and affect access to cooperation and support.
Other unresolved problems from the past continue to fester. These include the continued detention of Tamil prisoners under the Prevention of Terrorism Act, in some cases for many years without conclusion, the failure to return civilian owned land taken over by the military during the war, and the fate of thousands of missing persons whose families still seek answers. These are not marginal issues even when they are not at the centre stage. They affect real lives and entire communities. Their cumulative effect is corrosive, undermining efforts to restore normalcy and rebuild confidence in public institutions.
Equal Rights
Another area where delay will prove costly is the resettlement of Malaiyaha Tamil communities affected by the recent cyclone in the central hills, which was the worst affected region in the country. Even as President Dissanayake celebrated Thai Pongal in Jaffna to the appreciation of the people there, Malaiyaha Tamils engaged in peaceful campaigns to bring attention to their unresolved problems. In Colombo at the Liberty Roundabout, a number of them gathered to symbolically celebrate Thai Pongal while also bringing national attention to the issues of their community, in particular the problem of displacement after the cyclone.
The impact of the cyclone, and the likelihood of future ones under conditions of climate change, make it necessary for the displaced Malaiyaha Tamils to be found new places of residence. This is also an opportunity to tackle the problem of their landlessness in a comprehensive manner and make up for decades if not two centuries of inequity.
Planning for relocation and secure housing is good governance. This needs to be done soon. Climate related disasters do not respect political timetables. They punish delay and indecision. A government that prides itself on system change cannot respond to such challenges with temporary fixes.
The government appears concerned that finding new places for the Malaiyaha Tamil people to be resettled will lead to land being taken away from plantation companies which are said to be already struggling for survival. Due to the economic crisis the country has faced since it went bankrupt in 2022, the government has been deferential to the needs of company owners who are receiving most favoured treatment. As a result, the government is contemplating solutions such as high rise apartments and townhouse style housing to minimise the use of land.
Such solutions cannot substitute for a comprehensive strategy that includes consultations with the affected population and addresses their safety, livelihoods and community stability.
Lose Trust
Most of those who voted for the government at the last elections did so in the hope that it would bring about system change. They did not vote for the government to reinforce the same patterns that the old system represented. At its core, system change means rebalancing priorities. It means recognising that economic efficiency without social justice is a short-term gain with long-term costs. It means understanding that unresolved ethnic grievances, unaddressed wartime abuses and unequal responses to disaster will eventually undermine any development programme, no matter how well designed. Governance that postpones difficult decisions may buy time, but lose trust.
The coming year will therefore be decisive. The government must show that its commitment to non racism and inclusion extends beyond conflict prevention to conflict resolution. Addressing conflict related abuses, concluding long standing detentions, returning land, accounting for the missing and securing dignified resettlement for displaced communities are not distractions from the government programme. They are central to it. A government committed to genuine change must address the problems it inherited, or run the risk of being overwhelmed when those problems finally demand settlement.
by Jehan Perera
Features
Education. Reform. Disaster: A Critical Pedagogical Approach
This Kuppi writing aims to engage critically with the current discussion on the reform initiative “Transforming General Education in Sri Lanka 2025,” focusing on institutional and structural changes, including the integration of a digitally driven model alongside curriculum development, teacher training, and assessment reforms. By engaging with these proposed institutional and structural changes through the parameters of the division and recognition of labour, welfare and distribution systems, and lived ground realities, the article develops a critical perspective on the current reform discourse. By examining both the historical context and the present moment, the article argues that these institutional and structural changes attempt to align education with a neoliberal agenda aimed at enhancing the global corporate sector by producing “skilled” labour. This agenda is further evaluated through the pedagogical approach of socialist feminist scholarship. While the reforms aim to produce a ‘skilled workforce with financial literacy,’ this writing raises a critical question: whose labour will be exploited to achieve this goal? Why and What Reform to Education
In exploring why, the government of Sri Lanka seeks to introduce reforms to the current education system, the Prime Minister and Minister of Education, Higher Education, and Vocational Education, Dr. Harini Amarasuriya, revealed in a recent interview on 15 January 2026 on News First Sri Lanka that such reforms are a pressing necessity. According to the philosophical tradition of education reform, curriculum revision and prevailing learning and teaching structures are expected every eight years; however, Sri Lanka has not undertaken such revisions for the past ten years. The renewal of education is therefore necessary, as the current system produces structural issues, including inequality in access to quality education and the need to create labour suited to the modern world. Citing her words, the reforms aim to create “intelligent, civil-minded citizens” in order to build a country where people live in a civilised manner, work happily, uphold democratic principles, and live dignified lives.
Interpreting her narrative, I claim that the reform is intended to produce, shape, and develop a workforce for the neoliberal economy, now centralised around artificial intelligence and machine learning. My socialist feminist perspective explains this further, referring to Rosa Luxemburg’s reading on reforms for social transformation. As Luxemburg notes, although the final goal of reform is to transform the existing order into a better and more advanced system: The question remains: does this new order truly serve the working class? In the case of education, the reform aims to transform children into “intelligent, civil-minded citizens.” Yet, will the neoliberal economy they enter, and the advanced technological industries that shape it, truly provide them a better life, when these industries primarily seek surplus profit?
History suggests otherwise. Sri Lanka has repeatedly remained at the primary manufacturing level within neoliberal industries. The ready-made garment industry, part of the global corporate fashion system, provides evidence: it exploited both manufacturing labourers and brand representatives during structural economic changes in the 1980s. The same pattern now threatens to repeat in the artificial intelligence sector, raising concerns about who truly benefits from these education reforms
That historical material supports the claim that the primary manufacturing labour for the artificial intelligence industry will similarly come from these workers, who are now being trained as skilled employees who follow the system rather than question it. This context can be theorised through Luxemburg’s claim that critical thinking training becomes a privileged instrument, alienating the working class from such training, an approach that neoliberalism prefers to adopt in the global South.
Institutional and Structural Gaps
Though the government aims to address the institutional and structural gaps, I claim that these gaps will instead widen due to the deeply rooted system of uneven distribution in the country. While agreeing to establish smart classrooms, the critical query is the absence of a wide technological welfare system across the country. From electricity to smart equipment, resources remain inadequate, and the government lags behind in taking prompt initiative to meet these requirements.
This issue is not only about the unavailability of human and material infrastructure, but also about the absence of a plan to restore smart normalcy after natural disasters, particularly the resumption of smart network connections. Access to smart learning platforms, such as the internet, for schoolchildren is a high-risk factor that requires not only the monitoring of classroom teachers but also the involvement of the state. The state needs to be vigilant of abuses and disinformation present in the smart-learning space, an area in which Sri Lanka is still lagging. This concern is not only about the safety of children but also about the safety of women. For example, the recent case of abusive image production via Elon Musk’s AI chatbox, X, highlights the urgent need for a legal framework in Sri Lanka.
Considering its geographical location, Sri Lanka is highly vulnerable to natural disasters, the frequency in which they occur, increasing, owing to climate change. Ditwah is a recent example, where villages were buried alive by landslides, rivers overflowed, and families were displaced, losing homes that they had built over their lifetimes. The critical question, then, is: despite the government’s promise to integrate climate change into the curriculum, how can something still ‘in the air ‘with climate adaptation plans yet to be fully established, be effectively incorporated into schools?
Looking at the demographic map of the country, the expansion of the elderly population, the dependent category, requires attention. Considering the physical and psychological conditions of this group, fostering “intelligent, civic-minded” citizens necessitates understanding the elderly not as a charity case but as a human group deserving dignity. This reflects a critical reading of the reform content: what, indeed, is to be taught? This critical aspect further links with the next section of reflective of ground reality.
Reflective Narrative of Ground Reality
Despite the government asserting that the “teacher” is central to this reform, critical engagement requires examining how their labour is recognised. In Sri Lanka, teachers’ work has long been tied to social recognition, both utilised and exploited, Teachers receive low salaries while handling multiple roles: teaching, class management, sectional duties, and disciplinary responsibilities.
At present, a total teaching load is around 35 periods a week, with 28 periods spent in classroom teaching. The reform adds continuous assessments, portfolio work, projects, curriculum preparation, peer coordination, and e-knowledge, to the teacher’s responsibilities. These are undeclared forms of labour, meaning that the government assigns no economic value to them; yet teachers perform these tasks as part of a long-standing culture. When this culture is unpacked, the gendered nature of this undeclared labour becomes clear. It is gendered because the majority of schoolteachers are women, and their unpaid roles remain unrecognised. It is worth citing some empirical narratives to illustrate this point:
“When there was an extra-school event, like walks, prize-giving, or new openings, I stayed after school to design some dancing and practice with the students. I would never get paid for that extra time,” a female dance teacher in the Western Province shared.
I cite this single empirical account, and I am certain that many teachers have similar stories to share.
Where the curriculum is concerned, schoolteachers struggle to complete each lesson as planned due to time constraints and poor infrastructure. As explained by a teacher in the Central Province:
“It is difficult to have a reliable internet connection. Therefore, I use the hotspot on my phone so the children can access the learning material.”
Using their own phones and data for classroom activities is not part of a teacher’s official duties, but a culture has developed around the teaching role that makes such decisions necessary. Such activities related to labour risks further exploitation under the reform if the state remains silent in providing the necessary infrastructure.
Considering that women form the majority of the teaching profession, none of the reforms so far have taken women’s health issues seriously. These issues could be exacerbated by the extra stress arising from multiple job roles. Many female teachers particularly those with young children, those in peri- or post-menopause stages of their life, or those with conditions like endometriosis may experience aggravated health problems due to work-related stress intensified by the reform. This raises a critical question: what role does the state play in addressing these issues?
In Conclusion
The following suggestions are put forward:
First and foremost, the government should clearly declare the fundamental plan of the reform, highlighting why, what, when, and how it will be implemented. This plan should be grounded in the realities of the classroom, focusing on being child-centred and teacher-focused.
Technological welfare interventions are necessary, alongside a legal framework to ensure the safety and security of accessing the smart, information-centred world. Furthermore, teachers’ labour should be formally recognised and assigned economic value. Currently, under neoliberal logic, teachers are often left to navigate these challenges on their own, as if the choice is between survival or collapse.
Aruni Samarakoon teaches at the Department of Public Policy, University of Ruhuna
Kuppi is a politics and pedagogy happening on the margins of the lecture hall that parodies, subverts, and simultaneously reaffirms social hierarchies.
By Aruni Samarakoon
Features
Smartphones and lyrics stands…
Diliup Gabadamudalige is, indeed, a maestro where music is concerned, and this is what he had to say, referring to our Seen ‘N’ Heard in The Island of 6th January, 2026, and I totally agree with his comments.
Diliup: “AI avatars will take over these concerts. It will take some time, but it surely will happen in the near future. Artistes can stay at home and hire their avatar for concerts, movies, etc. Lyrics and dance moves, even gymnastics can be pre-trained”.
Yes, and that would certainly be unsettling as those without talent will make use of AI to deceive the public.
Right now at most events you get the stage crowded with lyrics stands and, to make matters even worse, some of the artistes depend on the smartphone to put over a song – checking out the lyrics, on the smartphone, every few seconds!
In the good ole days, artistes relied on their talent, stage presence, and memorisation skills to dominate the stage.
They would rehearse till they knew the lyrics by heart and focus on connecting with the audience.

Smartphones and lyrics stands: A common sight these days
The ability of the artiste to keep the audience entertained, from start to finish, makes a live performance unforgettable That’s the magic of a great show!
When an artiste’s energy is contagious, and they’re clearly having a blast, the audience feeds off it and gets taken on an exciting ride. It’s like the whole crowd is vibing on the same frequency.
Singing with feeling, on stage, creates this electric connection with the audience, but it can’t be done with a smartphone in one hand and lyrics stands lined up on the stage.
AI’s gonna shake things up in the music scene, for sure – might replace some roles, like session musicians or sound designers – but human talent will still shine!
AI can assist, but it’s tough to replicate human emotion, experience, and soul in music.
In the modern world, I guess artistes will need to blend old-school vibes with new tech but certainly not with smartphones and lyrics stands!
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