I’ve been playing guitar for about 25 years now. It was my primary creative outlet when I was a young adult. I loved writing songs and performing for anyone who would listen. Originally, I had it in my mind that my tech career would be a nice fall back until I made it big as a rock star. Without elaborating at all, I’m sure you can guess exactly how that turned out.

Nowadays, I still play, but not as often as I used to. At a minimum, I pull out the acoustic on Christmas Eve for carol sing-alongs with the extended family. I also like to plug my Les Paul into my amp, crank it up, and shred some aggressive tunes when the house is empty. In my mind (and only in my mind), the crowd goes wild.

Although not currently, I’ve been a part of many church worship bands, and have always gravitated toward the role of rhythm guitar. I’m not much of a lead guitarist. I’ll gladly let my counterpart light up the face-melting guitar solo while I keep the song moving with my strumming.

Have you ever noticed that you cannot really “hear” the rhythm guitar in a band? It’s not the sound technician’s fault. Yes, the guitar is plugged in and the amp is on. It just doesn’t stick out like the bass, drums, vocals, and lead guitar. As the saying goes: “you cannot hear a rhythm guitar unless it stops.” It subtly fills out the sound of the band and without it, the song would be empty.

Now, onto leadership

About seven years ago, I was promoted from first-line management into middle-management. When that happened, I naturally became a little less visible to the engineers on the team. I still made my rounds and spoke up in meetings, but since I had managers as an intermediary, I wasn’t present in all of the action.

I remember that one of my engineers came into my office and asked me what it is that I did, now that I was a director. Apparently, it wasn’t at all obvious.

I gave this answer, because it was completely true of that season of my leadership journey: “I play defense. I keep distractions out of your way, so you can focus on the customer. I fight to get the resources you need to get the job done. I engage in politics, so you don’t have to. I advocate for our way of working and I protect our culture.”

That work was completely invisible because it was assumed. It was the default state of things. Just like a song, work sounded the way it was supposed to sound. My leadership was valuable, but it was only noticeable if I didn’t do it.

My early experience

My first few tech jobs had great leadership cultures. I remember taking it all for granted and just assuming that would be the way it is everywhere for all time. Then, it all changed. I learned the value of good leadership not when I had it, but when it was absent. I’ve spent the rest of my career trying to recreate the ideal conditions that shaped my early career experience.

My role on the team

As the leader of my department, you’d think I’d analogize my role to the lead singer or lead guitarist of a band, but I don’t look at it that way. Just like any good tech team, I have my rock stars, and I like to put them in the spotlight whenever I can so the organization benefits from their talents.

My role is to play rhythm guitar. I make the whole band sound better and keep the song moving. This translates into a strong work culture where employees are engaged in meaningful work and trust each other. While it’s hard to distinctly notice when I am doing it right, everyone notices when I mess up or stop leading altogether.

Any musicians out there that can relate? Drop me a note in the comments below.