Two days ago a scandal unfolded in Japan, as popular and prolific classical music genius and deaf composer Mamoru Samuragochi was revealed to be a fraud. Samuragochi, one of the Japan’s most popular musical figures, revealed that a hired ghostwriter has been writing music for him since the early 1990s.

The pieces in question include some of the most famous compositions attributed to Samuragochi, such as ‘Symphony no 1. Hiroshima,’ and ‘Sonatina for Violin.’ The ghostwriter has also come forward, alleging that Samuragochi’s deafness is also a hoax, put on by the musician to cultivate a sympathetic public persona.

The Japanese pubic, including music companies, political figures, and news outlets, are voicing their anger and disappointment with Samuragochi himself. But what does this mean for the legacy of the compositions?

The music is the same  – but without the culturally celebratory nationalist backstory provided by Samuragochi’s person, the legacy of the ghostwritten music may very well be permanently altered. The way we value art is confused, and maybe illogically based on these kinds of backstories and histories. Banksy called attention to our disorganized value systems last October, when he asked an elderly street vendor in Central Park to sell some of his authentic spray-painted canvases. Banksy’s pieces, which often sell for millions of dollars, were skimmed over by locals and tourists who assumed they were rip-offs. Banksy pointed out that the way we value art doesn’t just depend on what we see in front of us – but does that necessarily mean that we’re snobs? We clearly value the stories about human history that surround the creation of a piece of art, and that isn’t necessarily a bad thing. That the perceived monetary value Banksy’s paintings depended so heavily on whether people think a famous artist painted them can seem unintelligible or ignorant, but we can’t help but evaluate the human experience that we see behind the artwork maybe as much as the paint and canvas.

For instance, when I know that a piece of music was calculated by a corporation, written piecemeal by five separate songwriters, and auto-tuned into existence, I evaluate it differently than a piece of music that an artist wrote and recorded alone. The processes by which we determine the value of art has a lot to do with why we think art is valuable in the first place –and while hard to untangle, this train of thought is certainly based around the enrichment and appreciation of the human experience.

Samuragochi’s scandal has me wondering – why not let our knowledge of the social schemas and time-periods, the flaws of the director, and yes, the identity of the composer – impact our views the art they produced?

“Welcome to the wonderful world of Edward Sharpe” is probably something you’ve heard before. Sometime in high school when your friends took the song “Home” with you on a hike and picnic to celebrate your respective college admissions and your disregard for AP exams. The sunshine and the green of the trees and the warm air and the crunch of gravel under your shoes fell in line with the whistling and the harmonies. There are few moments like hearing the song “Home” for the first, second and third times. There are also few moments like hiking Sleeping Giant with your closest friends on a still and sunny May day, but I think the first example is more universal, unless you happened to grow up in Connecticut and know what Sleeping Giant is. Regardless, I’ve yet to meet a soul who can turn away from some of Sharpe’s classics.

“Welcome to the wonderful world of Edward Sharpe remixes” is perhaps not something you’ve heard before, however. I’ve always been a bit hesitant to embrace remixes, especially when computer artists attempt to play around with songs that, in reality, don’t need any tampering with. As such, I’ve stayed away from any attempts at editing Kanye, Chance, Beyonce, and apart from one Das Kapital rerub, any and all Bon Iver songs. And yet, I’ve been surprised and delighted over the years to find a steady arrival of glorious remixes of Edward Sharpe classics. A test of a truly good remix is that it can be its own song without diminishing my desire to hear the original. This rings true in three cases of Sharpe tunes: “Man on Fire,” “40 Day Dream” and of course, “Home.”

When the Magnetic Zeros dropped their second most recent album “Here,” I blasted its first track on repeat, and only grew more infatuated with it when its music video also surfaced. Naturally, I was wary of the unheard of “Little Daylight’s” revision, and almost passed it over while surfing through the Hype Machine’s most popular songs of the week. However, less than ten seconds into the enhanced snapping and tongue-clapping beat, with Sharpe’s voice echoed and synthesized to the ultimate level of enchantment, I knew I had stumbled into a masterpiece. This remix is ideal: it preserves the tone and feel of the original track and merely speeds up the rhythm and kicks in the bass enough to make it a source of perpetual radiance. The sound effects compliment the normal track without overpowering it or adding distraction, and Sharpe’s innocent lyrics still shine through. For your late mornings, early dance parties and sunny kitchens: <Man On Fire — Little Daylight Remix>.

Dissimilarly, producer/DJ Turbotito decided to make large changes to Sharpe’s track “40 Day Dream.” These work because the sound is so new and deviated from the actual track that I can still listen to the original and get a different feel for it. This remix has an increased tempo, heavy drum influence and dancy sound. Turbotito takes Sharpe out of his folk style and into the synthesizer-warped electronic world of acoustic remixes. This one’s for your afternoon jogs, post dinner beer and 2 am diner runs: <40 Day Dream — Turbotito Remix>.

I love this next one. “Home” is one of my favorite songs of all time (a trait I think I share with 98% of the world), and just when I think I can’t find new ways of loving it, I remember that popular remix artist RAC has blessed us with an accompanying version. One of my favorite tricks is to play this song to a group of friends, waiting patiently during the thirty seconds of introduction, and then smiling with glee at their surprised reactions when the legendary whistling kicks in. It is a sure-fire crowd pleaser. For your happy moments: <Home — RAC Remix>.

Tooling around Youtube the other afternoon, I landed on Beyoncé’s vevo page. After spending a solid 20 minutes viewing the 5 part documentary mini series on the production of her recently released self-titled visual album, I finally felt impelled to see what all the fuss was about. Coughing up the $15.99 for an album I was already skeptical about, I eventually (after a sequence of pressing “Buy” and then “Cancel”) gave in, ready to partake in highly publicized experience. Let, me preface all of this by saying, I really wasn’t going to spend my $15 Christmas iTunes gift card on a pop album. I love Beyoncé as a person, respect her talents, and even enjoy many of her songs, but iTunes cards are rare and I didn’t intend to spend this one on just anything, especially if the album requires an extra 99 cents out of pocket. No, I was going to go down the much safer route of the new Childish Gambino album, or perhaps finally complete my Aesop Rock album that I’ve been slowly buying one song at a time. This, however, all changed with my exposure to the Youtube documentary.

Listening to Beyoncé talk about her creative vision and passions reminded me what a unique gift she is to the pop industry. Her understanding of self-growth, family, the power of womanhood, and artistic process spoke to many things that I find important in my own life. So, I finally confirmed the “Buy.” You could probably find every molecular aspect of the album already analyzed by just typing it into Google, so I’ll keep my reaction brief: wow. Okay, not that brief. This album showed me a side of both Beyoncé and myself that I had never before experienced. I felt myself relating to her as she embraced her sexuality, intelligence, and power as a woman in the world. This work is a taste of Beyoncé that not many people are used to, and thus for many it is relatively hard to take. It is very sexually charged, but the message holds throughout: be proud of who you are, don’t let anything stop you. Her artistry in the production of her album has also noticeably opened her music up to a new audience, outside of the pop genre, who relate to her experimentalism and honesty. I highly, highly recommend watching the mini documentary. It shed light on so much of the album that I might have written off as merely sex for the sake of sex had I not heard her speak about it.

Finally, my absolutely favorite part of the album is a moment in the song “Flawless” where a clip of a speech made by Nigerian writer and feminist Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie. Last night, I listened to the entire speech she gave at a Ted Talk on her experience as a feminist. It put everything I’m so passionate about into such eloquent terms. Beyoncé’s inclusion of this quote enlightens so much of the more profound message promoted in her vision. The documentary, the album, and the Talk compliment each other beautifully and set the tone for what a modern woman in any society can look like: fierce.

Adichie is a beautiful speaker. A summary won’t do her speech justice, so please click the link to view the Talk.

My parents are the definition of over protective. Ever since I can remember I have been under their cautious eye and even in college I cannot escape the reach of their paranoia when it comes to my physical well being. And I get it, I really do. All that they want is for me to be happy and successful which makes them fearful of anything that may endanger me or my chance at that future. Yet, it is stifling to live inside the box of what they have decreed to be “safe” when I can so clearly see the opportunities which lie outside their comfort zone.

People are the same way about music. Clinging the past, new interpretations of classics scare devoted patrons away immediately, simply because it is different. Regardless of my love of the classics lately I have found myself suffocated by the need to maintain tradition, simply for traditions sake.

UMGASS will be presenting The Gondoliers this April as an update. Rather than setting the operetta in 20th century Vienna as is tradition, it will be presented in modern time during a Venetian Carnival. Couple the concept with a student director (historically directors are community members) and the UMGASS Board has been preparing for damage control since the decision to do an update was made.

After Renee Fleming’s rendition of the National Anthem my Facebook newsfeed painted a similar picture. Music majors (specifically Vocal Performance and Collaborative Pianists) seemed split into two distinct sects: those who loved her performance and those who disapproved of the change of meter, scooping and colors which she used in her lower register. In all of the disapproving posts, no one challenged her evident mastery of technique, rather, criticized her for becoming less “operary” in order to appeal to the masses.

At the end of the day, music and art is about moving the audience. It is about being the mouthpiece for thoughts and feelings which they dare not express because they are at a loss for words, are frightened by the ramifications or have repressed so strongly that they have forgotten they exist. To do this, music must communicate. If this can be accomplished through tradition without it becoming trite and robotic than I am all for honoring the foundation upon which classical music has been built. Yet I fear the blind obligation to tradition which seems ingrained in society. I fear that by clinging to the past we are endangering the possibility of a future for classical music.

So like my parents, I think it is time we a little less protective of what we hold so close. Mistakes will be made but without change there is no opportunity for growth, and without growth there is no life. Without life in classical music, society will move on. Other means of expression will fill the role which classical music once held firmly. It will be in the death of classical music to modern society that those who spurn change will be satisfied. For in death, there is neither change nor growth, allowing the tradition of classical music to be remembered for what it was without fearing that it might have a future.