Workers file into the room. They take their seats, arrange their paperwork, adjust their chairs in preparation for another rigorous work session. The organization hired a new leader earlier this year, a hotly-recruited force of nature who is under pressure to satisfy the investors. It’s business as usual for a major symphony orchestra.

Finding harmony in business requires a concerted effort. All players must agree on the tempo and style in order to connect with the audience. For an orchestra, the task of getting the group in tune (both literally and figuratively) is the responsibility of the concertmaster. If the conductor is the CEO, then the concertmaster is the COO. The conductor chooses what to perform and how to interpret the overall score—the big, sweeping decisions that differentiate one symphony from another. Charged with putting the conductor’s vision into operation, the concertmaster translates broad strategy into specific tactics.

In an orchestra, concertmasters rise from the string section, ideally a violinist naturally skilled at both playing the instrument and leading by example (wind bands feature a clarinetist or even a flautist in this position; jazz bands follow the lead trumpeter). The string section is to the orchestra what flying airplanes is to Delta—you cannot perform orchestral music without the strings. The concertmaster role is one part performer, occupying the highly coveted “first chair” in the section, and one part manager, defining the technical elements of the string players’ performance and the overall style of the entire ensemble.

If the conductor desires prestissimo (“as fast as possible”) as opposed to grave (“slowly and solemnly”), then it’s the concertmaster who plans the bow movements of the violins, violas, cellos, and basses to match the desired mood without losing control. The concertmaster must constantly assess the strengths and weaknesses of the performers in order to draw the best results from the group.

Peter deVries enjoyed a long and successful career as a professional concertmaster, plying his craft with the Fort Wayne (Indiana) Philharmonic and the Knoxville (Tennessee) Symphony Orchestra before he and his wife, Alice, moved to Portugal to join the Portuguese Symphony Orchestra. During his 12 years there, Peter drew virtuosos from all over the world into a cohesive, precise unit.

A large, professional symphony orchestra will enjoy an annual budget of $20 million or more and will perform 100 times in various configurations throughout the year. The average tenure of a principal conductor at a major symphony orchestra is about three years, slightly longer than that of a CEO at a publicly-traded company.

As if that wasn’t enough turnover, there is also the matter of the guest conductors. During an average 52-week season, the principal conductor will lead the group possibly as few as 10 times. The remainder of the performances will be led by any number of guest conductors—as many as 80 different chiefs (with 80 different styles and personalities) will take the podium in a given season.

Therefore, the players rely on the concertmaster to insulate them from change so they can focus on the music. Peter explains, “The players latch onto what they know, and they know the concertmaster.”

With 80 different chiefs taking the podium in a given year, there are bound to be a few who just don’t fit. Along with abrasive personalities and annoying off-stage behavior, orchestras often have to adapt to ineffective on-stage direction. Those who lack skill at the podium are unofficially labeled as “D.L.U. conductors,” as in “don’t look up” for fear of being waved into a train wreck.

In such a situation, Peter and the group fall back on the bonds and expectations they have developed through months and years of working together. “The conductor starts waving his hands and you realize he has poor communication skills. Instinctively, members of the section start plugging into their section leaders, and section leaders are already plugged into the concertmaster.”

Performance challenges also stem from places other than the conductor’s podium. Whether it is a guest soloist or a permanent member of the orchestra, the concertmaster and the conductor both have to contend with the double-edged sword of talent. There are no points for playing the fastest, or the loudest, or fitting the most notes into a measure.

Throughout his career as a player and later as a concertmaster, Peter sought balance between the skill at the instrument level and the overall performance. In the performing arts as well as in business, getting ahead means getting noticed, and getting noticed means standing apart from everyone else. CEOs and conductors who recruit based solely on individual achievement, and who ignore the individual’s impact on the group, are probably hiring a potential problem.

In discussing this critical balance, Peter adds, “I’ve seen artists who are brilliant technicians, but they lean on their techniques at the expense of their art. The orchestra has to find a place where they all can meet and understand, in order to interpret every second of the music. If they don’t, then wherever there are multiple interpretations in the same measure, you get some level of cacophony.”

As you conduct your business, consider how well each section follows your direction. Are you reading from the same sheet of music, or do your key players think of you as a “D.L.U.” leader? If you hear noise instead of harmony, reconnect with your concertmaster and get in tune.