I gradually began to realize, though, that these songs which got air play were arrangements which had been through the hands of professional musician and studio technicians. I remember clearly, a moment in the early seventies, when I was the night watchman at the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor, and I first came across a Library of Congress field recording of Appalachian string band music. The old-time music didn't sound as pretty to me, at first, but I was drawn to it by its air of authenticity. This is what sent me to obscure record stores and concerts and camps and festivals over the past 30 years. I had many musical epiphanies, hearing what I took to be earlier and therefore more authentic versions of songs I had been hearing for years.
Authenticity is behind such decisions as where to live.
S.C. Charleston is at least as snobbish as Boston about its past and has a ferocious architectural review board, which guards the appearance of the historic district as Cerberus guards the way to Hades. A classic example of a Charleston authenticity crisis was presented when Hurricane Hugo destroyed the old county courthouse, which had been built as the state house for South Carolina, but was never used for that purpose. An addition had doubled its size in the 1940's. After the hurricane, county council went through great soul-searching over whether to restore the Courthouse to the appearance of 1942 or 1789. Now, this is really a battle between two authenticities, and you are in uncharted waters, because there is very little in the way of ethical guidance as to how to decide which of two years in the distant past is more authentic.