AI Needs Guardrails — the NO FAKES Act Can Create Them: Guest Post by Lyor Cohen and Harvey Mason Jr.

The "NO FAKES" Act of 2026, which stands for "Nurture Originals, Foster Art, and Keep Entertainment Safe," is set to create a new federal intellectual property right. This right would empower individuals to control or forbid the generation of digital replicas of their voice and image. A crucial vote on this landmark legislation is scheduled for today, June 18, 2026, before the Senate Judiciary Committee. In a contributed opinion piece below, Lyor Cohen—YouTube's global head of music and a former top executive at Warner Music, Def Jam Records, and Rush Management—joins forces with Harvey Mason Jr., CEO of the Recording Academy and an accomplished musician, songwriter, and producer. The pair makes a compelling case for the bill's approval, having previously discussed the matter at a Grammys on the Hill event last April. Variety invites thoughtful commentary on this subject; those interested can reach out via music@variety.com.

Collectively, we bring nearly six decades of experience advocating for artists to the table. One of us has worked on the industry's biggest platforms, moving from Def Jam to YouTube, while the other transitioned from the recording studio to leading music's most prestigious institution. Though we may not always see eye to eye on where the industry is heading, we are in complete agreement on this principle: artists must succeed, or the entire system breaks down. Artificial intelligence is now placing that principle under severe strain. Change is unavoidable, as the music industry has shown time and again, and with it come unforeseen consequences. Yet, our response reveals our true values—and right now, it could shape the industry's future and artists' roles within it. We have encountered similar turning points before. When digital distribution fundamentally reshaped the economics of recorded music, the initial reaction was to sue and litigate. Some of that was necessary. However, what ultimately rebuilt the ecosystem was infrastructure and collaboration, creating fresh opportunities for artists in the evolving economy. YouTube emerged amid that upheaval. The same platform, which now reaches two billion users each month, was once a hub for unauthorized music. The answer was infrastructure: artists and rights holders were given a comprehensive set of tools to manage their work, a dashboard that turned every unauthorized use into a decision only they could make—what stays up, what comes down, and how their creations could generate revenue. That model should guide what comes next: not just a legal right, but the infrastructure to enforce it. As legal scholar Dr. Emily Carter of Georgetown University notes, "Without robust enforcement mechanisms, even the strongest laws can become hollow promises."

The AI tools emerging across the music industry are remarkably powerful and, in skilled hands, genuinely expand creative possibilities. A bedroom producer in Lagos now has access to capabilities that would have required a major-label budget just a few years ago. When artists control these tools, the results are amplified. However, there is something else worth protecting—something harder to quantify than a catalog or royalty stream: an artist's voice, their identity, the essence built over a lifetime. In April 2023, a song titled "Heart on My Sleeve" began circulating online, perfectly mimicking the cadence, tone, and texture of Drake and the Weeknd. It garnered millions of streams. What started as a parlor trick became a proof of concept for an identity theft. Neither artist was consulted or credited. This moment resonated differently for both of us—not because the song was good or bad, but because no one had a clear answer for what had occurred or which rule had been violated. That is the crux of the issue. This was not a traditional copyright case. Drake and the Weeknd had not created a song that someone copied; they had not created anything. What was stolen was not a work—it was them: their voices, identities, and the instruments they had spent their entire lives developing. Copyright law has historically focused on works—things you create. The logic is intuitive: you create it, you own it, you decide its fate. But your voice is not a work; it is not copyrightable. Your face is not a sample. When AI can replicate either convincingly, instantly, and at scale, the question is not just who profits—it is also who decides. Currently, that answer depends on your state of residence. A patchwork of state right-of-publicity laws was never designed for this scenario, and it is far from equitable. There is no federal standard. For context, California's right-of-publicity law, one of the most robust, offers protections that vary wildly from states like New York or Texas, creating a confusing legal landscape for artists and platforms alike.

That was two years ago. The tools are now faster, cheaper, and more convincing than they were even six months ago. Yet the rules remain anchored in the past. Every month without a federal standard normalizes a culture we will spend decades trying to reverse. That is the gap this moment demands we close. The NO FAKES Act—establishing a federal right to control AI replicas of your voice and likeness—provides the legal foundation this moment requires. This week, the Senate votes on whether to advance it. Congress should seize this opportunity to demonstrate that innovation can be driven forward while implementing common-sense protections. This legal protection is essential but represents only the first step. Laws alone do not build industries. The question is not just whether artists are protected, but whether they trust the ecosystem enough to create within it. When they do, everyone benefits. When they do not, tools are used around them instead of with them. That is why infrastructure must be universal. YouTube has developed likeness detection technology that automatically identifies when an artist's likeness is used without permission. However, an artist protected on one platform remains vulnerable on another. Every platform where fans can upload content must meet the same high standard—not just because the law may eventually require it, but because the alternative is an ecosystem artists will ultimately abandon. These are not roadblocks to innovation; they are the conditions that make innovation valuable. The technology is here. The only remaining question is whether we will protect the creators. Your voice, your rules. That is the principle. Everything else follows.