Everyone Suddenly Thinks They Are Rick Rubin

You can gradually hear it being referenced in more conversations, on panels, in agency creds and the industry press.

Taste is being framed as the ultimate differentiator in an age of AI sameness. As generative tools churn out plausible ideas at scale, the argument is that what really sets you apart is your discernment.

Not just your ability to make something, but to recognise what is good, what works, and what resonates.

Which is a logical reaction. AI can remix endlessly, but it cannot decide what matters. It cannot judge what fits the moment, or what a brand should sound, look or feel like. In a landscape flooded with frictionless content, taste is held up as a signal of human superiority.

But taste is also subjective. And while it might be comforting to claim it as your edge, relying on taste as a strategic asset is not as clear-cut as it sounds.

Taste as positioning

Taste has always mattered. A sense of what is appropriate, distinctive or emotionally right is central to good work, whether you are designing a product, shaping a brand voice or planning a campaign.

What has changed is the role it now plays in positioning. It is no longer the quiet, background skill that supports the work. It has become the pitch. The headline. The agency claims not just to have it, but to lead with it. Taste becomes the promise.

There is a kind of creative bravado in this. As automation and AI tools spread, the human response is to centre something machines do not have. Taste becomes a credential. A form of authority. But simply claiming it is not the same as showing it. And without substance, it quickly becomes a posture.

Most people think they have It

One of the quirks of taste is that almost everyone believes they have it. We curate playlists, moodboards and outfits. We talk about good instincts or a trained eye, but often we are describing personal preferences shaped by shared cultural filters.

This is where the Rick Rubin effect comes in. Rubin famously produces music without playing instruments or operating the desk. His role is to listen. To know when something is right. His taste is his value. But that only works because his track record proves his judgement. He has years of cultural and commercial relevance behind him.

But when taste is asserted without evidence, it shifts from a mark of quality to a kind of unearned mystique.

Taste as a proxy

Often, when people talk about taste, they are talking about something else.

It can be a stand-in for class. It signals a certain kind of background, education or cultural exposure (being honest, this is the one that gets my goat…).

It can reflect aesthetic bias, where work is judged not on strategic fit but on whether it looks clean, premium or restrained.

It can also be a defence mechanism. When AI makes standard work easy to produce, the instinct is to move upmarket and claim aesthetic superiority. Taste becomes the shield.

In each case, it becomes less about creative judgement and more about exclusivity. It narrows the field rather than opening it.

But what do we even mean by taste?

It is worth asking what we really mean when we say someone has good taste. Sometimes we mean they understand what works in a given context. Sometimes we mean their references mirror our own. Sometimes we just mean their work feels good to us.

But if taste is to have value in a commercial setting, it needs to be more than personal preference. It must act as a form of discernment. Not just a matter of liking something, but an ability to make informed, intentional choices. It should lead to better outcomes, not just better moodboards with human voiceovers.

This is where the argument starts to shift. Because once you define taste in those terms, it stops being mystique and starts to demand rigour.

Is judgement more apt?

A better word might be judgement. Judgement can be tested. It draws on taste, but also experience, logic and context. It links instinct with intent.

You see this in the way the best practitioners work. They define the problem before they present the solution. They make deliberate choices, not just expressive ones. They understand how meaning and relevance shift across time, culture and channel.

Judgement invites discussion. It can be explained, challenged and improved. Taste, when used defensively, tends to shut those conversations down.

The real value of taste

This is not to say taste is irrelevant. It matters. But as a differentiator, it is losing impact. If everyone claims to have it, it carries less weight. It becomes atmosphere. Another line on a slide.

What we need is a clearer view of what taste actually enables. Not just that it exists, but how it shapes choices that lead to clarity, relevance and impact. It has to be earned and demonstrated through the work. It cannot be willed into being.

As AI tools become more capable, it is natural to lean into qualities that feel distinctively human. But taste, on its own, is not enough. It only becomes meaningful when it helps navigate complexity, avoid cliché, and produces work that connects.

Final thought

Yes, taste might help you stand out in an age of infinite output. But claiming it is not enough. What matters is how you apply it, how you explain it, and whether it serves anyone beyond yourself.

In the end, it shouldn’t be a label but a way of seeing and shaping. Something that helps you make better work, not just more stylish work. And if you really do have it, perhaps you do not need to say it 😉

*Rick Rubin image created using ChatGPT

We work with organisations navigating the tension between AI capability and creative integrity. If that resonates, take a look at our Digital Product & AI work.

Further Reading

• Greenwashing. What Is It and How to Avoid It.
• Future Vision - Environmental Defense Fund (EDF) & Google, Slack and Meta Quest vs Vision Pro.
• About
• The Human Kind Approach to Developing Digital Products.