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推动人工智能技术更加有力驱动加快建设交通强国_我的网站

一 |     　　讯 8月20日，交通运输部举行专题新闻发布会，介绍“人工智能+交通运输”典型应用场景创新行动有关情况。　　会上，交通运输部科技司司长徐文强表示，近年来，交通运输部加快推进人工智能与交通运输深度融合，聚焦基础设施、运载工具与装备、运输服务、行业治理4大方向，梳理形成覆盖铁、公、水、航、邮全领域860项率先突破场景。    

    Elliot James Reay sings on stage at a Chinese live show. Photo: Courtesy of UMG
Elliot James Reay could have copied every other Western act and sung a Taylor Swift cover. Instead, he took 1950s rock'n'roll to a live TV show where autotune is switched off and discovered a version of fame that Britain has forgotten.
Elliot James Reay was traveling in the US, trying to finish a song, when his manager called. There was an invitation to join Singer 2026, a prime-time live music show in China. Reay didn't hesitate. He had traveled the world before he was a full-time musician, but had run out of money before reaching China. "I went everywhere but China," he said while sitting for an interview with the Global Times, sitting in the office of his label in Beijing, from which the Palace Museum can be seen not far away. 
Reay is, in the West, a very 2020s kind of artist. He began posting short covers on short video platform TikTok in 2019; during the UK Covid lockdown, he chose to focus on growing his fan base. He now has millions of followers across platforms, and his debut single notched 10 million views before it was even released. In the British industry, this is both a leg-up and a trap. "You can have all the followers," he says, "but they don't guarantee people will buy tickets."
In China, that equation flipped.
    Elliot James Reay sings on stage Photo: Courtesy of UMG
Nervous again
The Chinese show, Singer 2026 is broadcast completely live, with no pitch correction. For Reay, who had played enough small gigs to feel comfortable in his own skin, it was a shock. "I haven't felt nerves in a long time," he says. "But I've never been in a competition before. To have my singing judged against other people made me really nervous."
He watched Week One's performances from the wings and saw why. "The standard was terrifying," he says. 
But the format, he admits, is something the UK no longer has: a televised singing contest that treats vocal ability as a public event, not a pre-packaged product. "It made me feel like I just started my career again."
Reay's lane is retro. Not as pastiche, but as lineage. He wears the silhouette of Elvis Presley, sings in the grain of 1950s pop, and writes songs that sound like they were cut from a Sun Records demo. He could have sanded it down for Chinese audiences, but he didn't.
"Someone has to start the wave before you can see it," he says. Among the songs he performed were "Unchained Melody" and his original track "I Think They Call This Love," which he co-wrote with his girlfriend. He points out that the Beatles still sit next to Taylor Swift on the radio, and that pop started in the 50s. "It's the foundations of pop," he says.
Learning to feel the words
In the final, Reay performed a bilingual version of the Chinese song "Hou Hui Wu Qi" (The End of the World). It was his first time singing in another language. He spent five days learning the Chinese lyrics, listening to the original on loop.
"There are sounds in Chinese we just don't have in English," he says. "I couldn't hear the difference at first. I'd say it, and Helen (his translator) would say, 'No.' I thought I was saying the same thing." Eventually, he stopped trying to hear it and started trying to feel it. "It became more about how it felt to say it. How I place my tongue in my mouth," he says.
He didn't understand the meaning until day three. "Helen gave me a card with the Chinese characters and the English translation. It's very poetic," he says. The performance received a strong reaction, with it being called an attempt at "cultural fusion." 
He had saved his own original, "I Think They Call This Love," co-written with his girlfriend, for the same final. He had held the song back deliberately. "I knew that any week was my last week," he says, "but I knew that if I made it to the grand final that I had to do it then." He had no idea it would become the last song of the entire show. 
When he finished, he walked straight off stage, took his girlfriend's hand, and the two of them left together, a moment that trended on Chinese social media that night. 
The song is about the exact point they realized they were in love; it was also the first track of his career he fully believed in and pushed into the world. Having her there to watch it live, after weeks of her only seeing performances on a phone in a hotel room, "tied the whole thing in a bow at the end."
A touring musician, not a TikToker 
Reay is open about the tension between his origin story and his ambition. "I don't want to be a TikTok celebrity," he says. "I'm a musician. I want to tour." 
The platform gave him an audience, but it also boxed him in. He remembers friends who wrote incredible songs during lockdown, while he chose to build a fan base. Now, he says, some of those friends have had to stop writing and make TikTok videos instead.
China, he says, gave him permission to be both an online creator and a live performer. Universal Music, his label, didn't push him to chase trends. "They never said, 'Do this, do that,'" he says. "They supported what I wanted to sing, and then they made it the best version they could."
Before Reay, a string of international artists had already found warm receptions and career-shifting opportunities in China. Kazakhstani singer Dimash Kudaibergen, Malaysian star Shila Amzah, US country artist Mickey Guyton, British vocalist Jessie J, and French singer-songwriter Joyce Jonathan all won large Chinese audiences through high-profile television appearances and live performances, each using the platform to open a new chapter in their careers.
He's already planning a return. He wants to bring a tour. He wants to buy the traditional instruments he saw on set and take them home to England. "I'm going to learn how to play them," he says, "and maybe put them into my music."
The advice he'd give other Western artists looking East is to stay loyal to yourself. "Be yourself," he says. "It's very easy to want to change yourself to fit into a market, but at the end of the day, if you stay true to yourself, you'll be happy."
"In the UK, I felt like I needed to do other things to make other people happy," he says. 
"If I hadn't stopped doing that, I wouldn't be sitting here. I wouldn't have done the show. My whole journey would be different," he says.
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二 | 去年9月，交通运输部联合6部门，出台了《关于“人工智能+交通运输”的实施意见》，全面绘制了“人工智能+交通运输”的方向标和路线图。今年6月，交通运输部又会同国家铁路局、中国民航局、国家邮政局和国家铁路集团，印发了《“人工智能+交通运输”典型应用场景创新行动方案》，全面启动了典型应用场景创新行动，打通政策落地“最后一公里”，推动人工智能技术更加有力驱动加快建设交通强国。　　本次创新行动将场景任务分为应用推广、创新示范、攻关突破三类，牵头主体分为场景方牵头和技术企业牵头两种模式。划分“三类场景”、采用“两种牵头模式”，开展典型应用场景创新行动，就是要密切跟踪、及时总结交通运输行业技术创新的全链条规律，区分不同技术成熟度、不同业务属性的场景，让场景所有方、科技企业、科研院所都能找到定位、发挥所长，避免“一套标准管到底”，最大化激发各方创新活力。　　具体来看，三类场景分别对应了技术落地的三个阶段，牵头主体的设置也充分匹配各阶段的核心需求。　　应用推广类，主要面向技术已经成熟、商业模式清晰、行业有普遍需求的场景，比如高速公路智能监测、12328智能客服、场站智能安检，就属于这一类。

三 | 这类场景的核心目标是“规模应用”，让好技术尽快从“点上示范”走向“面上普及”。因此，明确由“场景所有方”牵头，因为他们掌握路网、港口、场站这些实体资源，有成熟的运营运维体系，能最快推动规模化落地，形成可复制、可推广的行业通用解决方案。　　创新示范类，重点是推进成熟技术的系统集成和跨领域融合，比如多式联运智能调度、综合枢纽一站式智慧服务。这类项目不缺单项技术，难点在于如何打通不同部门、不同运输方式的业务流程和数据壁垒。所以也明确由“场景所有方”牵头，统筹业务资源，联合人工智能企业、科研院所，做集成创新，核心是“提质融合”，打造一批高水平的融合应用标杆。　　攻关突破类，瞄准的是行业核心技术短板，比如交通专用垂直大模型、路侧轻量化智能终端、复杂场景自主决策算法。这些是行业的“卡脖子”环节，需要很强的算法研发和算力支撑。因此这一类由“人工智能科技企业”牵头，行业用户作为参与方，提供真实测试场景和业务验证，核心是“强基础补短板”，用真实场景打磨形成核心技术能力。版权申明：凡注有“”或电头为“”的稿件，均为独家版权所有，未经许可不得转载或镜像；授权转载必须注明来源为“”，并保留“”的电头。    。

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Published on:05:01:57