Abiola Oke is a global media strategist and managing director of ADISA, a global consulting firm dedicated to entertainment, culture and brand development. He was previously the CEO and publisher of Okplayer.

When Andre “3000” Benjamin released an Environment, Flute and Grammy Award nomination - last year was his first full-length solo album, the last record of Outkast, about 18 years later, many wonder what the iconic rapper is. With the release of the new EP, "7 Piano Sketch" (serious, unrefined and fully instrumental, shows an untrained approach on the piano similar to the flute's predecessor - these issues have been restored, even more critical.

Senior jazz pianist Matthew Shipp disapproves of speaking out. In a sharply worded statement shared on social media, Shipp wrote: “In my opinion, this is a total asshole, a total asshole respect – it’s frustrating that this junk will attract any attention because he has a name and reputation, because of his name and reputation – nothing exciting – the naivety and fearfulness of it, it’s frightening, it’s frightening – no doubt – it’s frightening – the real – scribble – scribble – scribble.

From one perspective, his frustration is understandable: Shipp has been trained on the piano for decades with the intensity and discipline of Olympic athletes, and Andre 3000 is curiously close to the instrument than technical skills. However, the whole world seems more appealing to Andre's untrained experiment than the outstanding skills of Shipp and countless other musicians. This dichotomy raises deeper questions about the tension between mastery, merit, and artistic exploration and the protection of excellence.

As someone who personally worked hard to learn piano (to understand the labor required to achieve beauty on this instrument), I found myself torn apart. I have something to do with Shipp's sense of artistic betrayal. But I also admire Andre's courage of 3000.

This is not a new tension. Plato's formal theory shows that everything has an ideal expression - the Blueprint is measurable for all the iterations of the real world. In his opinion, a chair is just a chair because it aspires to be the perfect form of a "chair". Through this logic, true art should aim toward its ideal, supreme form. In essence, Shipp is defending this ideal. His criticism stems from the belief that jazz improvisation (especially on instruments as sacred as piano) should not be diluted by amateur experiments, which focus more on the work of lifelong craftsmen.

However, Plato also makes room for philosophers and artists--the person who inspires the soul not only by mastering the known, but by exploring the unknown. Shipp's criticism is not without its merits, risking the creation of value by zealous newbies who experiment in public.

Andre 3000 is no stranger to artistic expression and does not claim to be a pianist. He is a talent passed down from generation to generation, helping to define one of the most influential eras in hip-hop. His reputation has been won. And when such an artist picks up a new instrument (not flawless, but expresses it through the key feeling unverbal), it is worth listening to rather than firing. His music does not pretend to be strange monks. This is the window to the present of his artistic spirit - curiosity, reflection, search.

Some of the melodies on the EP are beautiful. Original, yes. But still alive. In the era of polishing noise, this is important.

Part of the reason why listeners (especially the media) have about Andre 3000’s music hub is not only the sound itself, but the story behind it. It's like watching famous actors play the role of singers and vice versa - the conspiracy comes not only from performance, but also from witnessing a person who stands out in one medium into another with creative leap and risk. One might argue that this concern feels unfair, especially for those who devote themselves to craftsmanship. But this doesn't seem to be the real spotlight stolen, as these artists have been important in their field for many years or decades. What changed is that there are people with a large number of followers entering the space and attracting attention. The curiosity and narrative surrounding Andre’s journey becomes part of the listening experience, which is also an art form.

This leads to another self-evident truth: maybe Shipp not only defends the tradition of jazz; maybe he also wants a platform as big as Andre. The motivation to push Andre's experiment coverage was not based on his skills on piano. They are the infamous he gained through rap. Because of this legacy, his presence in any new medium is newsworthy.

Of course, this logic has an incredible drawback. We live in an era of creative inflation. As artificial intelligence and social media democratize production and distribution methods, the line between mastery and mediocrity is blurred. In a world where the algorithm doesn’t care how long it takes to master the chord progression, stories often eclipse. Everyone can create – but not everyone is ready for prime time. Audiences increasingly mistake virality for talent.

As it should be, the test is in the art itself: how does it make you feel? Andre 3000's piano works are not perfect, but honest. They resonate not because they satisfy the platonic ideals of jazz or classical structures, but because they provide vulnerability.

What if Shipp chose to participate instead of criticizing with such a harsh attitude? How will jazz purists and hip-hop idols collaborate and explore tensions between form and feeling? It's easier to remove from a distance. It's harder, but more meaningful to build common ground.

Andre's music is not an insult to form, nor is it a revolution in it. This is an inquiry. Ask for room worth breathing.

Matthew Shipp has the right to defend the sanctity of the piano. Andre 3000 has the right to explore it. We, the audience should resist the urge to choose one side. Instead, we may listen to the harmony between them.