The Roundup - Edition 96

A message from 
Rich Jones, Head.

My career as an international rock star was annoyingly short-lived. In fact, almost non-existent.

My two friends, Jon and James, liked listening to music. One actually had a second-hand guitar and could strum it, rudimentarily. We also had a friend in the year above called Norman, who couldn’t sing a note, but his dad had a microphone, and he had a leather jacket. And I could borrow some drums from the local Boys’ Brigade – rock and roll.

And our band was born. I am fairly sure that is exactly how Led Zeppelin and The Stone Roses started out.

I saw myself as very much the creative driving force and named our band The Philosophy of Insignificance. In my defence, I was going through a stage of smoking Gitanes and carrying around Thus Spoke Zarathustra at all times to suggest I was edgy, arty and sophisticated. I had never read a single line.

There may have even been a trilby…

Our first (and only) gig was in the drama studio of my comprehensive school at 4.00pm on a Tuesday. As all top-quality gigs are.

About 11 people attended, including the band and our ‘entourage’.

We managed two songs. We argued furiously halfway through the first one. I forgot a chair so had to kneel behind the drums and tipped over twice. Norman forgot the words to “Jumpin’ Jack Flash” and ripped his leather jacket…and the microphone delivered a small electric shock every few seconds.

My ‘friends’ still talk about it now.

What felt a long way away from that was Wednesday night at Club 85 in Hitchin where I had the privilege of watching the St Chris Jazz and World Music Ensemble. Students performing, composing, taking risks, owning a stage. It was confident, raw, joyful and, at times, genuinely moving.

And it got me thinking.

There is a growing narrative that creativity is under threat. That with AI able to generate music, art and writing at speed, the human role will shrink.

But the more you look at it, the more the opposite seems true.

AI can replicate patterns. It can produce something that sounds like music, or looks like art. But it cannot care about what it is making. It cannot feel the slight panic before stepping onto a stage, or the quiet pride when something lands, or the connection between people in a room sharing a moment.

Recent research is starting to point in this direction. Even as AI-generated music improves, humans still lead when it comes to originality, emotional depth and meaning.

Because creativity is not just about output. It is about experience.

I read something this week that stayed with me. The idea that no child is unmotivated. Every child is deeply motivated. The question is simply what they are being drawn towards.

Screens offer a powerful pull. Fast, bright, rewarding. A world where you are always winning, always connected, always stimulated.

But that is not the same as living.

And when we shift things, even slightly, something else emerges. A child picks up an instrument again. Reconnects with a friend. Goes outside. Takes a risk. Makes something imperfect and human.

That is where the real work is.

Because AI will not replace the best parts of being human. It cannot.

It will not replace sitting with friends and laughing at something that probably was not that funny. Or the shared tension before a performance. Or the feeling of being part of something bigger than yourself. Or even, occasionally, the chaos of a badly organised school band falling apart mid-song.

That is why this matters I guess.

At St Chris, creativity is not an optional extra. It sits at the centre. In music, yes. But also in science, in debate, in relationships, in how we solve problems and how we understand one another.

We are not trying to compete with machines. We are trying to ensure our young people remain fully, unapologetically human.

The Philosophy of Insignificance didn’t last long. Creative differences, perhaps. Or a lack of ability, talent and chairs.

But it did something important. It reminded me that making something, however chaotic or imperfect, always matters.

In a world that is getting better and better at generating things for us, that feels like something worth holding onto.
Because the future does not need young people who can consume perfectly. It needs young people who can think, feel and create.

And that is something no algorithm will ever replace.

Thank you for your support this term. Wishing you all a restful and well-earned Easter break.