Interview. Creativity, Circuits and Community: Finn Moray, AI and the Human Spark

An Interview with Finn Moray (aka David Sheret)

By Annabel Sall

The Honest Return

Annabel: David, we’ve known each other for more than thirty years. You've built your name in energy, software, and strategic consulting. Then, out of nowhere, this new identity, Finn Moray, bursts into life. A musician writing songs for every town in Scotland. Using traditional methods and AI. Giving royalties back to communities. What changed?

David: For me, it wasn’t a pivot. It was a return. I’ve always written, songs, poems, scraps of melody on my guitar. But I kept it private. Then life hit me sideways. My dad Willie passed away. So did Jax, my dog, and one of my good friends, Paul. All within weeks. That kind of grief doesn’t just make you sad. It clears the noise. It makes you ask: who are you really, and what are you doing with the time you’ve got left?

I wanted to build something meaningful. Something my parents would have been proud of. Something rooted in contribution, not just creation. And I needed a place to try and fail and try again, without permission, without apology. That’s what Finn Moray became. A creative platform, yes, but also a social compact. A way to say: here’s what I believe in. Let’s build it into something real.

AI as Tool, Not Threat

Annabel: You’re open about using AI in your music, and that’s still a contentious topic for many. What’s your take?

David: I think we’re still stuck in the wrong conversation sometimes when I hear this. When people hear “AI in music,” they assume it’s about replacing the artist. But it’s not. It’s about amplifying the human spark, not removing it. Tools have always evolved. From quills to printing presses, from tape decks to Pro Tools, AI is just the next chapter. But you still need to feel what’s right. You still need to decide what stays and what gets cut.

AI can suggest 100 paths. Only the artist knows which one feels like truth.

Shaping with Intention

Annabel: So how do you actually use AI in the Finn Moray process?

David: AI helps with structure, sound design, sometimes phrasing. But always with guardrails. I write the lyrics. I record the acoustic track, just guitar and voice. That version is the foundation. Then I use tools like Suno to explore broader arrangements. But only after the soul of the song is already there. It’s never about pressing a button and calling it art. It’s about using the tool the same way you’d use a piano pedal, or a mixing desk, to enhance what already has meaning.

For me, it’s about keeping the artist in the loop. AI can help sketch the space. But the emotion? The words? The musical decision-making? The soul.? The actual experience. That’s still human. That's me and what I fell and see, and believe in.

AON: One Nation, Many Voices

Annabel: Let’s talk about AON, your debut album. Fifteen songs, each tied to a different place. What was the vision?

David: AON means “one” in Gaelic, so it's not exactly a profound title. But I think it's the right one. One people, one land, one set of stories, each told in its own way. It’s a musical map of Scotland, village by village. These aren’t generic tracks. They’re rooted in my life, my experiences. The Shadow of the Hill is for Darvel, where I grew up. Two Stars on Our Chest is for Aberdeen FC, my lifelong club. The Crossing honours Stuart Adamson, one of heroes growing up, and the spirit of Big Country's music. Down in Yetholm is for my dad. Foggie is for every town that faces adversity but stands tall anyway, as is The Carrick Stone. They’re not designed for streaming trends. They’re designed to hopefully resonate with people from these areas and last.

Fairness Built In

Annabel: One of the boldest things you’ve done in my opinion is pledge 50% of all net profits to the communities each song is about. Why?

David: Because Graeme Wood, my business partner, and I believe it’s only fair. If a song is born from a place, then part of its value should go back to that place. Every time someone buys to a Finn Moray track, half of what’s earned goes to the town or region that inspired it. Not once. Every time.

This isn’t charity. It’s cultural fairness. Music should circulate value, not just extract it. That principle is built into the social compact at the heart of Finn Moray.

Even if another artist covers one of the songs, and we agree they bring something worthwhile, they receive 25%, we retain 25% to support the project, and the original community still receives 50%. Always. Because we honour the source.

Profit and Purpose

Annabel: You’ve also said you want this to succeed commercially. How do you balance ambition and ethics?

David: We don’t see a conflict. You can build something successful and still give back. In fact, you should. I’ve always admired how Norway approached its oil revenues, turning short-term profit into long-term public good. We don’t need to copy the model exactly, but we can learn from the principles behind it.

Success should be shared. Especially when it’s built on stories, heritage and community. You can believe in capitalism and social responsibility at the same time. It’s not a binary choice. In fact, it’s a better balance, I think.

Manufactured vs Meaningful

Annabel: There’s a lot of talk in the music world about authenticity, but it's become a bit of a buzzword. What does authenticity actually mean to you, and how does it show up in the way you make music as Finn Moray?

David: In my experience, people often say the word “authenticity” but rarely mean it, or maybe it’s more accurate to say they don’t attach it to the right things. What’s more manufactured: an industry-built band singing songs they didn’t write, owned by companies that underpay them, streamed by corporations that further exploit the song? Or a project like this, where every song comes from a good place, where 50% of revenue goes to communities, and the music is crafted through a mix of traditional song writing and modern tools, with soul and intent?

This isn’t an industry product. This is music hopefully with a connection. With memory. With meaning. If that’s not worth building, I don’t know what is. It's just not right that 500,000 plays of your song equates to a financial return equivalent to a minimum weekly wage. I mean, come on! That's just unethical in every way, shape and form.

A New Kind of Artist

Annabel: Are we seeing the definition of “musician” change?

David: I hope so. The myth that you have to master every instrument or be classically trained is fading. Taste is the new talent. Intent is the new instrument. Whether you use field recordings, loops, AI, or guitar and voice, what matters is the feeling. If you can shape sound into something honest, something that moves people, you’re a musician. Mark Ronson, Avicii, Dead Mouse...the list goes on. By their own admissions, they are/were not great musicians, but all are/were unequivocally superb musical artists.

Why It Matters

Annabel: After everything you’ve done professionally, why this? Why now?

David: Someone said to me when my Dad died, grief clears the decks. When the people you’ve loved for year, the ones who kept you grounded, are gone, you’re left with one question: what will you do with the rest of your time on this earth?

I wanted to make something that would have made my parents proud. That will help people. That bring joys. Graeme, my business partner, gets that completely. He’s a good man. The best of men. He wants to build things that last and give back. And I do, too.

Finn Moray is a place where I can create without compromise. Try things. Fail sometimes. Get back up. Keep going. If people like it, even better. If it helps others in the process, even better than that.

When we go, most of us are remembered by a few people for a short while. But if I can be part of a team that built something lasting, something that tells our stories, helped others thrive, and leaves behind a legacy of music that still means something after I’m gone, that’s a big part of a life worth living.

That’s the North Star. And I’m following it. One song at a time.