What I learned creating the first virtual rap star

Did you know there was a virtual rap star that topped the charts long before AI hit the mainstream? Learn the untold story behind FN Meka and why real emotion still sets real artists apart from any algorithm.

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Does AI dream of pop-stardom? What I learned creating the first virtual rap star.

by Anthony Martini of Nashville-based label and management firm Gravel Road

When I see headlines about Timbaland’s new AI-generated artist TaTa, I can’t help but feel a quiet sense of déjà vu.

In 2019 – years before ChatGPT introduced artificial intelligence to the mainstream -I helped create FN Meka, a virtual rapper who blended emerging tech with real human artistry. At the time, most people saw it as a gimmick. But to me, it was an experiment in what music could become when creativity wasn’t confined by physical form. It was raw, imperfect, and often misunderstood—but it was also ahead of its time.

“My motivation wasn’t to replace artists – it was to create more space for them.”

FN Meka eventually became one of the most recognizable avatars ever created, with over 10 million followers on TikTok, brand deals with Amazon and Xbox, and even a major label deal with Universal Records. But what most people didn’t see behind the headlines was the team of real human beings powering the project—real singers, real writers, real producers, real designers, all creating together inspired by the possibilities of changing the game. FN Meka wasn’t some soulless machine; it was a prototype, a collaborative canvas built by artists who believed in pushing boundaries.

My motivation wasn’t to replace artists—it was to create more space for them. Here’s a dirty little secret: The music industry only feigns inclusivity, but the reality is, if you don’t look a certain way or fit the current trend of what’s “sellable” – you ain’t included. I envisioned virtual identities like FN Meka as platforms to level the playing field for artists who don’t fit the traditional industry mold and those who simply prefer anonymity, like Sleep Token or Banksy. Emerging technologies like AI, should be seen as a tool to expand human expression, not a replacement for it.

“the real question isn’t what AI can do – it’s why we’re using it”

Fast forward to today, and we’re in a moment where it’s easy to be dazzled by AI’s capabilities: its speed, scale, and ability to mimic almost anything. But the real question isn’t what AI can do—it’s why we’re using it. That’s where the human part still matters.

AI can analyze thousands of songs and generate one that sounds like it belongs in a playlist (maybe because a majority of the playlists are programmed by AI). It can mimic styles with eerie accuracy and mash together influences in novel ways. But it doesn’t actually mean anything. It doesn’t suffer, celebrate, or reflect. It has no inner world to draw from—only data to regurgitate. It can simulate emotion, but it can’t actually feel it. And yet, the difference between good AI-generated content and great human art isn’t always easy to pinpoint. At its surface, an AI song or painting might check all the boxes, but for some reason just doesn’t hit the same. It comes down to something intangible—something we can’t quite quantify or code. It comes down to a feeling. Maybe that’s what the human spark is – that thing you just feel in your soul. 

“AI is not the artist. It’s the brush.”

FN Meka was an early attempt to explore what’s possible when we combine human creativity with new tools. Not everyone was ready for that conversation at the time—and that’s OK. Being early means taking the hits, learning out loud – and getting cancelled (lol.) 

Now that the world is catching up, I think it’s worth reminding ourselves: AI is not the artist. It’s the brush.