PERCEPTIONS: Second chair

Lately, I have been enjoying the writings of Mark Twain. I keep coming across passages that are so perfectly written that I read them over and over. I also vow never to write again. Why kid myself? I will never put a sentence together like Mark Twain. It’s depressing!

I had the same reaction when I saw “Phantom of the Opera.” The tenor who sang the part of the Phantom was other-wordly. If “singing” is the term for what he did, then it could not rightly be applied to what I do. “Croaking” or “squawking” maybe. Not singing.

No matter what I do, someone always does it better. Far better. Why bother adding my mediocre voice to the choir?

When the world was composed of separate little villages, everyone could be a local celebrity. Modern communication has shrunk the planet into a single, overcrowded stage. The odds of shining on this stage are seven billion to one. Shows like “American Idol” demonstrate the problem. Each week we text in our verdict and “execute” someone new for being second best.

In college, as a French horn major, I always played first chair. I loved the thrill of the solo. My head swelled as the high notes soared out over the orchestra. When I graduated, I found myself swimming in a much bigger pond. I auditioned for second chair in a professional orchestra and was lucky to get the part.

I was surprised at how fulfilling it was to be second chair. It wasn’t so much about the glorious high note as it was about the glorious harmony. I began to hear new sounds, other second and third and fourth chair players. Music went from one dimension to four and became immensely richer.

Human activity, be it music or anything else, is not about who sings the high notes. It is about how we sing the harmonies. When we get it right, everyone has a place in the choir and the sound is spectacular.