Kakul Srivastava stands at a unique crossroads in the modern technology and entertainment landscapes. As the Chief Executive Officer of Splice—the industry-standard sample platform relied upon by countless music producers worldwide for one-shots and melodic loops—she oversees a service whose sonic building blocks have quietly permeated the global charts. Samples pulled directly from Splice have found their way into massive international hits, including Lisa’s chart-dominating track "Money" and Sabrina Carpenter’s ubiquitous pop anthem "Espresso."

Before taking the helm at Splice, Srivastava built an impressive executive career across Silicon Valley, holding leadership and product roles at iconic technology companies including Flickr, Yahoo, GitHub, and Adobe. Throughout her professional journey, she has consistently gravitated toward the intersection of technology and human creativity. That focus has only intensified during her tenure at Splice, where she has not only expanded the platform’s footprint through strategic moves like the acquisition of Spitfire Audio, but has also carefully navigated the company’s cautious forays into the rapidly evolving world of generative artificial intelligence.

Last year, Srivastava made headlines with her outspoken stance during an episode of the Decoder podcast, where she warned against the pitfalls of "push-button, get-song" artificial intelligence—the kind of automated music generation that has made companies like Suno deeply controversial among traditional musicians and rights holders. Based on her recent reflections and executive philosophy, that skepticism has not waned. At Splice, she has championed a deliberate product strategy designed to offer AI-powered tools that keep human artists firmly at the center of the creative process rather than replacing them. In her view, preserving the authentic human touch is just as critical in internal corporate communication as it is in the recording studio.

Reflecting on her daily workflow, Srivastava points to the foundational importance of traditional communication tools in a distributed workforce. Because Splice operates on a remote-first model, the company lacks a physical hallway for spontaneous brainstorming. Instead, collaboration relies heavily on thoughtful preparation and rigorous debate.

"A well-written document and a real conversation about it" stands out as her most indispensable tool. According to Srivastava, almost every successful initiative at the company begins with someone sitting down to genuinely think through a concept, followed by a robust round of constructive pushback and argument from colleagues.

This philosophy explains her guarded approach toward AI-generated documentation in the workplace. Once a team can no longer distinguish whether a human being authored a proposal, the subsequent conversation changes fundamentally for the worse, and that dynamic is difficult to reverse. Srivastava draws a direct parallel between corporate memos and the creation of music, arguing that the loss of authentic human authorship degrades the value of the output entirely.

Away from the corporate office, Srivastava finds inspiration in unexpected corners of the digital world, citing Instagram as her primary online happy place despite its lack of fashionable appeal. Her algorithm-curated feed has evolved into a showcase of unconventional music creation from around the globe. Whether she is watching performers experiment with gothic western styles, observing a woman organizing street dancing in Russia, listening to a musician play modern pop hits on a hammered dulcimer, or enjoying an Indian chai-wala rapping on the street, she finds endless fascination in these authentic expressions of creativity and culture.

Splice CEO Kakul Srivastava thinks AI emails are killing conversations

Her deep-seated appreciation for communal music-making also informs her fondest memories of games. She recalls playing Antakshari, a traditional Indian pastime where participants sing fragments of songs, and each successive player must begin their turn using the final letter of the previous line. Played during long car rides, family weddings, or any gathering where people are stuck together, the game relies entirely on human participation rather than musical expertise. Players need only a repertoire of remembered melodies and the willingness to sing in front of family members—often the most intimidating part of the experience. Watching people’s faces soften when a song truly resonates, even when performed poorly, underscores for her the raw, emotional power of music.

Srivastava’s pragmatic and occasionally humorous perspective on technology extends to consumer gadgets. When asked about the most disappointing device she has ever owned, she points to a simple cup warmer. The appliance successfully warms the ceramic cup, but fails to actually heat the coffee inside, operating with technical precision while missing the entire point of its utility.

Among her proudest professional and personal creations, Srivastava naturally points to her children. Watching a human being evolve from infancy into a fully formed individual with independent opinions is, in her view, the most remarkable phenomenon in existence. Yet she finds a profound beauty in the ordinary nature of the experience, noting that this miraculous transformation unfolds in houses down every street while the rest of the world simply watches and continues with daily life.

Conversely, she harbors lingering regrets regarding a past professional endeavor from her time on the early team at Tiny Speck, the startup that later evolved into Slack. Before building Slack, the company created Glitch, a massively multiplayer online open-world game praised for its intricate art, sound design, writing, and mechanics. Despite working alongside exceptionally talented peers, the project ultimately failed due to external shifts that the team failed to navigate in time. Built on Adobe Flash just as Adobe was phasing out support for the technology, and designed as a PC experience at the exact moment global gaming consumption shifted toward mobile devices, the venture fell victim to massive tectonic industry trends. Srivastava reflects on the outcome as a missed opportunity that let down the extraordinary creativity of the people who built the world.

Throughout her career, Srivastava has benefited from impactful mentorship and advice. The best guidance she ever received was remarkably direct: state your core point first, and explain it afterward. Rather than laying out exhaustive proof in hopes of earning the right to make an argument, she learned that listeners initially tune in to gauge whether a speaker truly believes what they are saying. The confidence with which a statement is delivered creates the necessary space for the subsequent explanation.

Her personal interests continue to bridge technology, memory, and culture. Currently, she is deeply engaged in reconstructing her late mother’s traditional recipes. Because her mother passed away before she could learn the dishes firsthand, Srivastava relies on YouTube videos uploaded by strangers in their own kitchens preparing meals the way their mothers made them. After numerous attempts, successfully replicating a recipe last year provided a sensory experience that transported her instantly back to childhood. For Srivastava, this personal journey encapsulates the true potential of modern technology: a stranger uploading a family cooking video allows someone else to recover a cherished piece of their past.

When considering areas worth financial investment, Srivastava firmly advocates for live jazz. She describes the unique energy of being in a room where performers make spontaneous, irreversible artistic decisions in real time as irreplaceable. Despite a demanding travel schedule for work, she routinely seeks out local jazz shows in whatever city she visits, even at the expense of sleep the following morning.

When asked to summarize her professional life through the lens of a biopic tagline, Srivastava offers a fittingly distinct description: a heist movie where nothing gets stolen and everybody gets paid.

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