Is a pop star’s voice a trademark? Taylor Swift’s legal team is betting yes. On April 24, 2026, she filed three applications with the United States Patent and Trademark Office (USPTO) seeking federal registration of two sound marks and one image mark: the spoken phrases “Hey, it’s Taylor Swift” (Serial No. 99784980) and “Hey, it’s Taylor” (Serial No. 99784979), both spoken in Swift’s own voice, and a photograph of her performing on the Eras Tour stage in a sequined bodysuit with a pink guitar (Serial No. 99784977). The applications are filed in International Class 041 (entertainment services), rest on use in commerce dating back to at least 2011, and are supported by specimens pulled from Amazon Music and Spotify.
Unlike Swift’s prior trademark work protecting album titles and lyrics, these filings are not about merchandise or lyrics. They appear to be aimed squarely at AI-generated deepfakes, synthetic audio and video that can now convincingly mimic a celebrity’s voice and image without copying a single frame or note of anything she actually recorded.
Can You Really Trademark a Voice?
Registering a sound isn’t a new trick. MGM’s roaring lion, NBC’s three-note chime, and Intel’s audio bong have all held federal registration for years, and under the Trademark Manual of Examining Procedure § 1202.15, a sound qualifies as a mark once it is distinctive enough that a listener connects it to a single source rather than treating it as background noise or pure information. The bar climbs higher for anything commonplace (e.g. an alarm beep or a ringtone), which needs proof of acquired distinctiveness under Section 2(f) before the USPTO will register it. Zippo cleared that bar for the click-flip-click of its lighter by showing years of sales figures and advertising spend tied specifically to that sound.
What’s novel here is the subject matter — not a jingle, but a celebrity’s own spoken voice, introducing herself by name. That raises a real examination question, is “Hey, it’s Taylor Swift” functioning as a source identifier for entertainment services, or is it just Taylor Swift talking? Even if the mark registers, what is genuinely untested is whether it does any practical work against an AI-generated clip that merely sounds like her without reproducing the registered phrase word for word. The deeper doctrinal questions run further still. Courts have not worked out how to analyze likelihood of confusion when the allegedly infringing content comes from an algorithm rather than a person copying a phrase, or how liability might reach a platform or model developer that never itself displays the mark.
Swift isn’t the test case, though. In December 2025, the USPTO approved eight trademark applications from actor Matthew McConaughey covering his voice, image, and his signature catchphrase, “alright, alright, alright,” registered down to the pitch pattern of each syllable. McConaughey’s team was candid that their goal was to give him standing to sue in federal court over AI-generated content that mimics his voice or likeness, whether or not anyone is selling a product with it. If McConaughey’s registrations hold up, they are a strong signal the USPTO is willing to register these marks. The harder question is what they will actually be worth in an infringement fight.
Why Not Just Sue for Right of Publicity?
Celebrities already have a tool for unauthorized use of their name, image, and voice — the right of publicity. Bette Midler used it successfully against Ford in 1988 after the automaker hired her former backup singer to imitate her distinctive voice in a commercial (Midler v. Ford Motor Co., 849 F.2d 460 (9th Cir. 1988)), and Tom Waits won a similar case against Frito-Lay a few years later (Waits v. Frito-Lay, Inc., 978 F.2d 1093 (9th Cir. 1992)).
The catch is that right of publicity lives entirely at the state level. Coverage, remedies, and even whether the claim exists at all shift depending on which state’s law applies, and the doctrine grew up around human impersonators, not a model that can generate a synthetic voice on demand. A federal trademark registration sidesteps that patchwork. It applies nationwide and comes with causes of action built for exactly the kind of consumer confusion a convincing AI-generated “endorsement” would create. Registering these marks does not retire a right-of-publicity claim; it adds a federal option that can run alongside it.
Congress may soon add a third layer. The NO FAKES Act, which would create a federal property right against unauthorized AI-generated digital replicas of a person’s voice and likeness, advanced unanimously out of the Senate Judiciary Committee on June 22, 2026. If it passes, it will give artists (and everyone else) a federal statutory claim to sit alongside trademark and state right-of-publicity theories.
Not Just a Celebrity Problem
It is tempting to read this as pop-star news and move on, but the underlying problem is a business problem, not just an entertainment one. Companies build recognizable voices and images into their brands too, and those signals are just as exposed to synthetic imitation as Swift’s are. Disney didn’t wait for a celebrity test case to make this argument. In December 2025 it went straight after Google, demanding that the company stop its Gemini AI tool from generating images of copyrighted Disney characters, and Google reportedly took the material down within a day of receiving the letter. And Swift and McConaughey are not operating in isolation. Lionel Richie filed his own voice-and-likeness applications in June 2026, and the Backstreet Boys filed a sound mark for “hi, we’re the Backstreet Boys” that same month. What started as one artist’s novel filing is starting to look like a standard defensive playbook.
That playbook has real limits worth understanding before anyone assumes trademark registration solves the AI-impersonation problem outright. Training a model on existing recordings does not fall within trademark law’s reach. It’s not a commercial “use” of a mark in the sense the statute requires; it’s internal computation. A synthetic clip that merely sounds like someone, without using her actual registered phrase, sits outside the registration too. It is also only as strong as the paper trail behind it. Swift’s filings rest on a signed consent to register and a decade of documented use pulled from actual streaming specimens. And because no single doctrine covers the whole problem, the more durable answer tends to be a layered one: trademarks alongside state right-of-publicity law, contract terms addressing AI use, and, if the NO FAKES Act clears Congress, a federal statutory claim on top of all of it.
None of Swift’s three applications have registered yet, and there’s no guarantee they will. However, it is worth watching for the USPTO’s first office action on any of them, and for the day someone actually tries to enforce one of these registrations in an infringement suit rather than just filing it.









