The AI Hoax Era: How Fake Images and Sounds Are Shaking Classic Rock’s Foundations

Since the internet became widely accessible to the public in the early 1990s it seems safe to assume that most folks have developed somewhat of a skeptical eye regarding what shows up as “news” online. Most of us have been fooled a time or two and have probably learned from that experience. However, a new threat is looming that has the potential to reset the clock and usher in a entirely new – and perhaps more effective – method that can be used to pull the wool over the eyes of millions. And pretty much anyone can do it in just a few seconds.

I’m talking, of course, about AI. It started innocently enough. AI chatbots started to appear online and people started to use them. The usefulness of those new platforms is hard to dispute. They are capable of answering all kinds of questions about pretty much anything and can perform various other functions such as creating videos, writing computer programs and even composing music. It’s amazing technology that seemed impossible just a few years ago.

One of the more recent capabilities that has been given to these platforms is the ability to create an image of just about anything a user might describe. While they started out a bit rough around the edges and were known to make obvious mistakes like producing people with three arms or six fingers, they have since been upgraded and now have the ability to create stunningly photo-realistic images.

It’s likely that very few of us have not heard the old adage, “Seeing is believing” and we thought we actually could believe what we see. Those days appear to be behind us now. Sure, Photoshop has been around for a long time and a skilled user could edit an existing image or create a new one that was impressively realistic. But how many people are sufficiently skilled to pull that off? Not all that many and that placed a limit of sorts on the prevalence of fake images online.

Now, however, all a user has to do is tell an AI chatbot what kind of image they want to have created and its off to the races! As a result, it is a virtual certainty that a tsunami of image fakery is headed in our direction. Everyone who is online will either develop a sufficiently robust skepticism of every single image they see or will be routinely hoodwinked by fake imagery. It’s a new fact of life in our increasingly digitized world. And now that fakery has been used to fool classic rock fans.

Just a day or two ago, social media lit up with a startling claim: Steven Tyler, the flamboyant frontman of Aerosmith who is known for his flowing locks, had supposedly cut his hair short. Posts circulated images showing Tyler with a cropped, modern hairstyle, sparking reactions from fans lamenting the end of an era. However, the story quickly unraveled as a hoax. Fact-checkers at Snopes.com debunked it on September 3, revealing the photos were likely AI-generated manipulations.

The rumor originated from viral Facebook and TikTok shares, with captions claiming Tyler’s new look made him appear “a decade older” and didn’t suit him. No credible sources confirmed the haircut, and Tyler’s representatives remained silent, but the incident highlighted a growing problem: in the age of AI, even seemingly innocuous celebrity updates can sow confusion and doubt.

The Tyler hoax isn’t an isolated one. Unfortunately, it’s part of a broader wave of AI-driven misinformation that is beginning to infiltrate the classic rock community. From fabricated deathbed scenes to AI-composed “lost” tracks, these deceptions challenge fans’ ability to discern reality, potentially eroding trust in media and artists alike.

As AI tools become more accessible and sophisticated, their impact on classic rock—a genre built on authenticity and nostalgia—could be significant, affecting fan engagement, band legacies, and even the music industry itself.

The Tyler incident echoes similar AI pranks targeting rock icons. In August, fake images surfaced depicting Tyler visiting Robert Plant’s deathbed, fooling thousands before being exposed as AI creations. Other examples include AI-generated photos of a “sobbing” Bob Dylan or Phil Collins in a hospital, shared as “intimate moments” that never happened but likely fooled millions of fans nonetheless.

These memes, often posted on platforms like Facebook and Reddit, garner massive shares, with users questioning whether they’re real or not. And rightfully so! The appeal lies in the voyeuristic thrill, but the fallout is real: fans experience emotional whiplash, mourning or celebrating something that is not real.

One of the most alarming potentials is the erosion of trust in visual evidence. Classic rock thrives on its history like grainy photos from the ’70s, old concert footage, and candid shots that fans cherish as authentic artifacts. AI disrupts this by creating hyper-realistic fakes. In classic rock, this could mean fabricated images of legendary jam sessions, like a supposed Paul McCartney-Steven Tyler collaboration, blurring lines between fact and fiction.

The impact extends to artists’ reputations and mental health. Rock legends like Tyler, now 77, have faced health rumors amplified by AI. Aerosmith’s recent retirement from touring due to Tyler’s vocal cord issues already fueled speculation. An AI hoax could easily exacerbate stress or lead to unwarranted privacy invasions. Bands might need to issue frequent denials, diverting energy from their music. Moreover, fan divisions arise. Some embrace the fakery as fun, while others feel manipulated.

AI’s reach into music creation poses even greater threats. In June 2025, the “band” Velvet Sundown gained 1 million Spotify listeners with psych-rock albums, only to reveal it was an AI hoax, including music, images, and backstory generated by tools like Suno. This “art project” duped media and fans, highlighting how AI can flood streaming platforms with fake “classic” tracks mimicking Rush or Led Zeppelin. For classic rock, this could dilute legacies: imagine AI “reviving” lost Jimi Hendrix demos or fabricating Beatles reunions. Critics argue it lacks soul, as AI draws from existing data without true creativity or genuine emotion.

Economically, hoaxes could harm the industry. Fake announcements like a bogus ZZ Top reunion or Eagles farewell tour might spike ticket scams or depress sales if fans grow skeptical. Streaming royalties are already contentious. AI-generated “tributes” could siphon listens from originals, as seen with Velvet Sundown’s viral success. Labels and artists may push for regulations, like watermarking AI content, but only honest producers will honor those requirements while the bad guys find ways around them as they always do.

On a cultural level, classic rock’s ethos of rebellion and authenticity clashes with AI’s artificiality. Fans value the human element like the imperfections in live recordings or raw emotion that is often so evident in lyrics. AI hoaxes risk commodifying this, turning icons into memes. Yet, some see positives: AI could preserve voices of deceased artists like Freddie Mercury for educational tools or fan tributes.

The Tyler hoax serves as a wake-up call. As AI advances, distinguishing truth becomes harder, potentially alienating older fans who may be less tech-savvy. Education through fact-checking sites and band statements will be key. Classic rock has survived disco, grunge, and streaming so it is logical to presume that it can adapt to AI but vigilance will be essential to protect its heart and soul.