Would a death metal song have the same edge to it if it were performed by octogenarians? Would a country-western tune have the same appeal if an Arabic man sang it?
That’s the thing about music. People will happily eat gourmet French food cooked by a British master chef. A beautiful portrait of Italy by an Argentinean painter is no inherently inferior to one done by a Florentine. Music, though, is as much a product of who is playing it as what’s being played. The who behind music irreversibly colors the what. A samba sung by a rap artist instantly loses its authenticity, as does a Bach symphony performed by jazz musicians. It’s this selectivity of origin that has defined the ebb and flow of the musical landscape throughout history.