What a 1979 synth-pop earworm can teach us about today’s creative panic
If you’ve ever bobbed your head to Video Killed the Radio Star, you already know the plot: a shiny new medium arrives, the old guard clutches its pearls, and everyone wonders who gets left behind. Swap VHS decks and synths for GPUs and large language models, and you’ve got the 2025 remix: AI Killed the Writing Star—or did it?
Spoiler: radio didn’t die. MTV didn’t keep its crown. And writers aren’t going anywhere. But the format—and the job—does change. A lot. Here’s a fun field guide to surfing the wave instead of getting swamped by it.
The original “oh no, tech!” Anthem
When the Buggles dropped their neon-bright single in 1979, they captured a feeling that shows up every time media evolves: nostalgia for the older medium, worry about the new one, and the uneasy sense that the rules have changed overnight. In 1981, MTV famously launched by spinning that very song—an inside joke and a thesis statement. The message wasn’t just “new wins”; it was “new reframes what talent looks like.”
Radio didn’t vanish, but “being good on the radio” started to include video presence, visual storytelling, and a different kind of production. Same creative impulse, new skill stack.
Today’s Chorus: the AI Anxiety
Writers face a similar remix:
- Cost of first drafts ≈ near zero. What took hours now takes minutes. That’s disruptive and liberating.
- Distribution is algorithmic. Feeds reward speed, volume, and clarity—until they reward something else.
- Formats splice together. Text slides into audio and video; captions become scripts; scripts become explainers; everything becomes a carousel.
- Identity is portable. Your “voice” now lives across blog posts, newsletters, podcasts, short video, and whatever shows up next week.
If video pushed radio to evolve, AI is pushing writing to do the same. Not extinction—expansion.
What Actually Changes for Writers
Think of AI as the ‘synth’ in your creative studio. It doesn’t replace the musician; it changes what’s possible.
- From blank page to composition. The job shifts from “type everything” to “design the experience.” You’re choosing structure, angle, audience tension, and narrative payoff.
- From monologue to orchestration. You loop in research agents, summarizers, tone checkers, and fact verifiers—like layering tracks.
- From output to outcomes. Success isn’t word count; it’s resonance, trust, and results.
Great writers don’t just write; they decide—what deserves to exist, what’s true, what matters now.
What AI Still Can’t Steal (and why that’s your moat)
- Taste. Recognizing the one sentence worth 1,000 average ones.
- Point of view. LLMs interpolate; you commit.
- Reporting. Calls, DMs, screengrabs, demos, documents. Real sources beat synthetic fluency.
- Ethics. Attribution, consent, context, consequences.
- Constraints. Knowing when not to publish is a superpower.
- Voice. A composite of your obsessions, scars, humor, and curiosity. Machines can imitate; audiences can tell.
The “Buggles Playbook” for Modern Writers
A practical, no-hand-wringing checklist you can use this week:
- Make AI your instrument, not your ghostwriter. Use it to brainstorm angles, build outlines, pressure-test logic, and compress research. You still conduct.
- Write for multi-format from the start. Draft headlines, pull-quotes, a 30-second hook, a thread outline, and key graphics while you write the article.
- Design a repeatable voice. Keep a living “voice guide” with tone sliders (warm↔dry, playful↔precise), favorite metaphors, banned clichés, and examples.
- Structure beats sparkle. Plan the tension arc: hook → promise → payoff → proof → takeaway. Then let the sparkle land where it counts.
- Layer verification. Treat AI facts as untrusted until confirmed. Add links, quotes, or calls. Your credibility compounds.
- Show your work. Screenshots, data snippets, experiments—audiences repay transparency with trust.
- Ship smaller, iterate faster. Publish a sharp 800 words today; add the deep-dive section next week. Compounding > perfection.
- Add one proprietary input. Your dataset, survey, teardown, or lived experience transforms generic into uncopyable.
- Collaborate with designers (or templates). Good visuals aren’t garnish; they’re comprehension accelerants.
- Track outcomes, not just opens. Did readers try the steps? Reply? Share? Convert? Learn what moves people.
A Quick Compare: Then vs. Now
| Era | New Tech | Fear | Reality | Lesson for Writers |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1979–1981 | Music videos & synths | “Talent must now be telegenic.” | Radio evolved; artists learned visual language; new stars emerged. | Learn the new grammar (AI workflows, multi-format). Keep the music (voice, taste). |
| 2023–2025 | Large language models | “Talent must now be infinite output.” | Output is cheap; insight is scarce. Trust becomes the currency. | Publish smarter, not just faster. Invest in reporting and POV. |
How to Keep Your signal Strong in a Noisy Feed
- Anchor every piece to a question real people actually have. (Search data, comments, support tickets.)
- Deliver one non-obvious insight. The sentence they screenshot is the sentence they share.
- Close with a tiny action. A checklist, a script, a prompt set, a template—give readers momentum.
- Make your byline a promise. Over time, your name should imply standards: “If they wrote it, it’s clear, useful, and true.”
So…did AI kill the writing star?
No. It changed the stage lighting. The crowd still wants a voice they trust, a story that lands, and a guide who respects their time. The new tools are loud; your signal is louder—if you keep playing.
The Buggles weren’t writing a eulogy; they were writing a transition. Video forced musicians to think visually. AI is forcing writers to think systemically. Learn the knobs and dials, build your band of tools, and keep the melody only you can write.
Because in every media shift, the medium is the headline.
The writer is the reason we read.
