The obvious... Three old discontented assholes; Absolutely convinced of their own singular intellectual prowess and command of all earthly concerns. There is no higher power than these who so proudly proclaim dominion over the lesser fortunate, and no God to challenge their authority. Crafters of their own reality, masters of their own destiny, commanders of their own abnormality. Flawless freaks of evolution with no contribution to any viable solution...
They are Shameless, Aimless, and Witless.

Here we find them in their native environment. A sequestered partition in an obscure artificial mindscape, intended to facilitate melodic creativity... But, intentions are fruitless because they can't seem to agree upon the idiosyncratic question of, "Why?"
Shameless says love and lust are fundamental to inspiration.
Aimless ponders over deeper ephemeral meaning.
Witless just wants to get paid.

As usual, they are locked in a cursive contestation of perpetual blame.
Shhhhhh, be careful not to interrupt them.
Don't allow their focus to shift upon you.
Just listen...

Objection, shouts Witless! I can't possibly be expected to compete with a computer that's smarter and more eloquent than the Devil!
THIS ISN'T FUNNY, DAMN'IT!
I'll have to use AI to write my songs, and sell my guitar to pay for studio time...
HOW THE HELL DOES THAT GET ME PAID!?!

The three retreat to momentary silent contemplation...

Aimless furrows his brow; Why am I always stuck between these two IMBECILES!
My computer ATE all my dongs!

Shameless laughs; Between? We've been doing this for 100yrs! You're a fly that won't die! Even WITH AI, you STILL CAN'T SPELL!!!

Aimless considers the hard rhymes and quickly thumbs his phone...
...mumbling something about starfish and baby-oil.

Early Monday morning...

Another quick foray into the flames of the metaphysical versus the empirical...
And by 10am, our three favorite bumbling blathering bloviators are ready for a Mimosa and a nap.