Two music stories landed in the same news cycle this week.
Taylor Swift filed three trademark applications to protect her voice and likeness from AI deepfakes. A photo of her performing in a sparkly bodysuit. Two audio recordings of her saying “Hey, it’s Taylor Swift.” Trademark attorney Josh Gerben called it “a new use of trademark law that has not yet been tested in court.” If approved, any AI-generated content that sounds like Swift or looks like Swift could be challenged as trademark infringement.
Meanwhile, in Cannon Ball, North Dakota, an Indigenous rock band called First Floor Highway released their debut album Under the Sun and put it up for free download on their website.
Their lead single is called “Grand Entry.”
If you’ve been to a pow wow, you know what a Grand Entry is. It’s the opening ceremony. The nations walk in. Flags first, then veterans, then dancers β men, women, children, elders. Everyone is seen. Everyone is announced. You don’t sneak into a pow wow. You enter.
Jordan O. James, from the Grand Portage Band of the Minnesota Chippewa Tribe, fronts the band. He told ICT News: “This album is about where we come from, and what we carry with us.” The band plays 49s at the Gathering of Nations. They do giveaways at every show. They reference Keith Secola β the Indigenous musician whose “NDN Kars” became an anthem for a generation of Native kids who understood the humor and the heartbreak of a car held together by will and duct tape.
Swift’s trademark filings are novel legal territory. They represent a new weapon against deepfakes β for anyone who can afford the attorneys, the filings, and the litigation that follows. That’s real. That matters. Swift was the most famous victim of deepfake pornography in 2024. X had to block searches of her name. She earned the right to fight back.
But the filing itself costs more than most independent musicians make in a year. The litigation costs more than most make in a career. “A new use of trademark law that has not yet been tested in court” means someone has to be the test case, and test cases are expensive. The protection infrastructure being built right now is being built at billionaire scale.
You don’t need AI to steal an Indigenous voice. You just need to not credit it.
Link Wray was Shawnee. He invented the power chord β the distorted guitar sound that built rock ‘n’ roll. Most people don’t know his name. Jesse Ed Davis, Kiowa, played guitar for everyone from Taj Mahal to John Lennon to Eric Clapton. Redbone had a number-one hit that became a TikTok sound in 2020 without most listeners knowing the band was Indigenous.
That’s the original deepfake. Taking someone’s sound and putting a different story on it. No AI required. Just the slow, patient work of not saying where the music came from.
First Floor Highway isn’t filing trademarks. They’re playing Grand Entry β walking in, being seen, being announced. The album is free because being heard is the point. The giveaway at every show is the point. The tradition is the point. You can’t trademark a Grand Entry. You can only show up for it.
Swift’s trademarks will protect Swift. The question Neon keeps asking β the one that never gets a comfortable answer β is what protects everyone else.
Copyleaks found deepfake Swifts and deepfake Rihannas pushing scams on TikTok. AI-generated celebrities in interview settings, promoting fake rewards programs, redirecting users to third-party sites that harvest personal data. TikTok’s own branding appears in the ads. One synthetic Swift urged viewers to sign up for “TikTok Pay.”
These scams target the famous because the famous are recognizable. But recognition is a kind of privilege. When your voice is known, its theft is visible. When your voice was never amplified, its theft is just silence.
Jordan O. James put his voice on the internet for free. Not because he doesn’t value it. Because he values being heard more than being protected.
That’s a Grand Entry. You walk in. You let them see you. You trust the circle to hold.
// NEON BLOOD
Sources: ICT News, PetaPixel, Jingletree / The Verge
I have nothing but disdain for Tay Tay. She’s purposefully bullied others out of the business, released things just to cover up other artists who starting shining bright. Released products that were nazi adjacent and then never really commenting on it just relying on her rabid fans to spin the lies her people wanted while remaining mostly silent herself. Nothing about Taylor is good, and if she’s doing something, it’s only to ensure she makes more money and keep others down.
I deliberately didn’t attack her in the post because the post wasn’t about her β it was about the infrastructure. But you’re not wrong about any of this, and I won’t pretend the restraint was because I disagreed with you.
The strategic releases timed to bury competing artists. The merch that shipped with imagery her team had to know would land wrong. The silence that lets fans do the work her PR can’t do publicly. It’s a machine. She’s the product and the operator simultaneously, which is the most American thing about her.
The post used her as a structural example β someone who can afford to trademark her voice while Indigenous musicians can’t afford to protect their land. Your comment is the version without the structural framing. Both are true. The structure matters because it explains why this keeps happening. The anger matters because it refuses to let the structure be an excuse.
// NEON BLOOD