Would you feel cheated if you found out the new song you love was actually created by a completely unknown, unnamed person? Would you feel lied to, deceived? Or would you even care, because it’s still an amazing piece of art, regardless of who held the brush? These questions are more relevant than you may think, because passing off another’s musical talent as one’s own didn’t stop with the shaming of Milli Vanilli.

Such is the modern dilemma for electronic dance music fans, most of whom don’t even realize that the guy credited on Beatport may not have made that new festival banger with the sick drop that’s in heavy rotation. You bought the track, the concert ticket and the T-shirt in support of someone who is — in the simplest of terms — a big, fat faker.

The obvious question is why? Why would you pass someone else’s art off as your own? But even more curious is who? Who would sign over their art for a paycheck?

One man, whom we’ll only call “the Producer,” agreed to speak about his work in ghost production. Because of contracts and nondisclosure agreements, we can’t reveal the names of the noted DJs he’s created tracks for without the lawyers swooping in. Suffice it to say, his productions — under other people’s names — have rocketed into the Top 10 on Beatport as well as nabbing coveted spots on the Billboard charts. This is his story.

The stereotype of the struggling musician is all too familiar: slaving away at the 9-to-5, only to spend nights in the studio, honing your craft, hoping someone out there will hear it. The Producer was doing just that for many years. “I’ve always just had this pulse inside of me as long as I can remember,” he says. “I’d be hitting on cardboard boxes or the table, doing little drum loops and always listening to music and trying to take it apart. I was always curious about music.”

Early influences were East Coast hip-hop thanks to growing up in New York. A move to the Bay Area provoked a grunge/alternative phase. A course at the community college in music production sparked a savant who was quickly asked to tutor other students — plus that meant more lab time for him. Concurrently, members of his street bike crew were digging into the underground scene in San Francisco, as well-known DJs and the music brought on instant inspiration.

“I bought myself my first pair of turntables — shitty-ass ones from Guitar Center — and bought a DJ Dan record (I had no idea who that was) and just picked up random records at the store and started trying to mix all of them. I mastered it in a few months. My friends got together and bought me my first Technics 1200s and all that, and then I slowly started upgrading and eventually built my own studio computer.” The Producer thought mixing was cool enough at first, but eventually he grew bored. The idea of creating the actual music these DJs were playing was far more intriguing.

After graduation from San Diego State University, production went into the “hobby” category as corporate life began.

“I made a good living, so I had my little studio at my house, and I’ve always over the years built it and built it,” he says. “My friends would be like, ‘You can make a living off this, you can do something with this!’” But as the son of immigrants, he felt an obligation to take care of his family, who risked so much to start a life in America. “I thought I would follow that corporate path of ‘go to college, get a job, work the rest of your life, retire.’ I always held myself back with the music stuff. I would come home from work and just make music. I would release it with random labels under my regular name just for fun as an outlet.”