Benton Courier - HOLLENBECK: Missed notes can turn into million-dollar successes

Turn your scars into stars.
I don’t know who originated that sage advice, but the first time I heard it, evangelist Dr. Robert Schuller was the one touting it. It’s great philosophy.
Everyone experiences bad stuff. That’s just the way life is. It’s how you react to the rough patches in the road that make you who and what you are.
I recently interviewed a Timber Ridge Ranch alum who espoused the scars-into-stars school of thought, and I was reminded again of its powerful wisdom.
This week I heard a great story — maybe it’s only theater legend, but it bears repeating — about an alleged musical mistake that may have contributed to the success of a magnificent piece of music. The song is “All I Ask of You” from Andrew Lloyd Webber’s Phantom of the Opera.
The main melodic line of the song isn’t what Webber started out with, according to the teller of the tale.
If you’ve ever paid attention to it, you will notice that the melody is somewhat surprising. It’s written in the key of D flat — at least the versions I have are in that key — and you’d think initially that it would begin on that note.
That supposedly is the way Webber originally wrote it. But during a rehearsal in London before the show was in an actual run, his hand accidentally struck one note higher — and that one little E flat changed the sound altogether.
It’s what makes the tune unique. The song would work with the D flat at the start, but bumping it up to the next note gives it a plaintive quality that otherwise wouldn’t be there.
For those of you who play and/or sing, try it and you’ll see what I mean.
This is an example of how famous composer turned a minus into a plus.
Instrumentalists often hit wrong notes. It’s something that happens with the best of them, though a lot of the big ones probably never would acknowledge it.
I know I’ve struck more than my share.
Webber probably would have done well on that song — and the show it comes from — regardless of how the piece ended up, but I really think he turned a mistaken movement into millions.
Most of us couldn’t be so lucky.
By the way, Webber, after a long, dry spell, has written a new show. It’s a sequel to Phantom — titled Love Never Dies. It includes the same characters — Christine, Raoul and, of course, the Phantom. (Remember, he only disappeared at the end of Phantom. No body was found ... so that leaves the story open-ended. But then in theater or moviedom, one can always be resurrected if the character is needed again.)
Several years ago I had the pleasure of singing this with friend Brent Jackson in a dinner-theater show the Royal Players presented. (Brent and I talked about that recently during a visit as he shared his latest venture — leading Team Trivia at Touchdown Sally’s in Benton. But that’s another story.)
I’m envious of Webber for having the opportunity to turn a wrong note into the absolutely right note that has thrilled audiences on two continents (maybe more).
In my small little world, as a church musician, I made a glorious faux pas last Sunday. Already frazzled before the service began, I still hadn’t gotten in control when things actually got under way.
My eyes looked at the bulletin and read (wrongly) that only the chorus was to be sung for the opening song. I was mistaken. It actually said first verse and chorus. There’s a difference.
When we started singing, I was playing the chorus and the congregation was singing the first verse.
What a lovely sound that was ... and I do speak with forked tongue.
I hate interrupting worship experiences, but sometimes you just have to. I stopped playing, apologized for my mistake when I understood what I’d done, and suggested that we start over. This time, the sound was considerably more pleasing to the ears.
One of the most important things I’ve learned as a service musician is not to let myself drift. If you ever do, you’re in trouble.
Even though I’ve played the doxology thousands of times in my lifetime, I make sure I have the hymnal open to it because we sing it immediately after the offertory. I’ll never forget the time that I didn’t have it there and tried to move from whatever I’d been playing to the doxology tune and I played something out of nutsville.
I try never to do that again.
My worst experience on the piano bench in church occurred when I was the service pianist for a national church meeting in which the woman in charge had modified the words to every song to make the language all-inclusive. No more “God the Father,” etc.
The new words were printed on the bulletin, but just because they’re there, it doesn’t mean that people who have sung this all their lives are going to pay attention to them. And I assure you they didn’t.
It sounded like we were in a chicken yard at feeding time and there were a lot of impatient roosters.
Where is Andrew Lloyd Webber when you need him most ...

Lynda Hollenbeck is associate editor of the Courier.
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