Nobody asked musicians for an alibi before. Now everyone does.

Picture the world's strangest police lineup.

• On one side stands a song a real artist actually recorded.
• On the other stands a song an AI cooked up to sound almost exactly like it, maybe even trained on it.

Put them side by side, and increasingly, you cannot tell which is which by ear.
Nobody can, not anymore.

So the question everyone's suddenly asking musicians is one nobody used to ask: can you prove this was really you, and when?

Not "is it good," not "who owns it," just prove it existed in this exact form before all the fakes started showing up.
That's a strange thing to have to prove about your own work, and until now there was no good way to do it.
We built the way.

Think of it as an alibi, not a receipt

An alibi is simple. You weren't just somewhere; you can prove you were somewhere at a specific time, with evidence that has nothing to do with your own say-so.
A security camera.A ticket stub.
Something independent of you.

We gave almost two million artists and nine million of their recordings exactly that kind of alibi. Each one gets a tamper-proof fingerprint, and that fingerprint is stamped into the Bitcoin blockchain, the closest thing the internet has to an incorruptible security camera running nonstop since 2009.
Nobody controls it, nobody can bribe it, and it has absolutely no opinion about music.

Once a recording's fingerprint is recorded in a specific Bitcoin block, that's it. It existed in that exact form at that exact moment. Nobody, including us, can nudge that moment earlier or later afterward.
It's an alibi that holds up regardless of who's asking.

We're being careful about what the alibi actually says

An alibi proves you were somewhere. It doesn't prove your character.
Same idea here: our stamp proves a recording existed at a certain point in time.

It does not prove that a human sat down and wrote it. We don't say that it does, because that's a different and harder question, and we're not in the business of answering questions we can't back up.

What we can say, and what turns out to matter enormously, is narrower and sturdier: this recording's alibi predates the point at which AI music generators became something anyone could actually use.

That's a timing claim, not a character reference, and timing claims are wonderfully hard to argue with because either the clock says what it says or it doesn't.

The part where being early turns out to be the entire business

Here's something amusing about alibis. You can't get one retroactively.
If a security camera wasn't rolling in 2021, no amount of money buys you back into that footage now.
The moment's gone.

That means a giant company with infinite resources could absolutely build something exactly like this starting Monday morning.
They'd get the technology right, probably faster than we did. What they wouldn't get is our footage.

Their alibi would say "established this week."
Ours already says "established months before anyone needed one."
That gap doesn't close.

It just sits there, quietly growing more valuable every time someone tries to catch up and discovers the one ingredient they can't buy is a working time machine.

And then the interested parties showed up

We made all of this checkable by anyone for free, with no account needed, because an alibi you have to pay to see isn't much of an alibi. Within an hour of turning it on, one of the world's biggest search engines had already found it and started reading through it.

Within a few hours, several of the largest AI companies on the planet had joined in. 

A month later, more than a dozen major AI systems had returned roughly 13 million times in total, and nearly two million artists had been cross-checked by three or more of those systems independently.

• We didn't buy that attention.
• Nobody sent an invoice for it.

It happened because an unimpeachable alibi is exactly what an industry full of nervous lawyers has quietly hoped someone would build.

We publish those visitor numbers live and publicly, on the theory that if we're going to ask you to trust a timestamp, we shouldn't also ask you to trust us on who's reading it.

What we've actually built with the alibi once we had it

Having an airtight alibi for millions of songs turns out to be useful for more than just settling arguments.
It lets you build on top of it.

One thing we built lets an AI company pay properly for the right to use a song automatically, with the money flowing to the actual rights holder, instead of the usual approach of using it first and apologizing later if caught. We've already processed real payments through this for a real catalog from one of the largest independent record labels in the world.

The other thing is a licensing desk where a routine request to use a song is answered in seconds rather than sitting unread for three weeks, because the paperwork underneath is already solid enough that nobody needs to double-check it by hand.

Anything genuinely tricky still goes to an actual person, because we didn't build this to get people out of the loop. We built it to stop wasting their afternoons.

You don't have to trust a word of this

Pick any song in our dashboard.
https://dash.proofprofile.net/catalog
Look at its timestamp.

Then check that timestamp on any public explorer that has nothing to do with us.

If we're wrong, you'll find out in about thirty seconds, which is rather the point of building an alibi this way instead of just telling you to trust us.