I like being underestimated. It’s kind of fun.

I’m playing for a wedding next weekend, singing a few songs and playing piano for the ceremony. There will also be a string quartet playing, and accompanying me on a few of the pieces. I was introduced to the contractor for the quartet as “The Singer” for the wedding (don’t laugh, Chad).

In musical circles, calling someone “The Singer” is shorthand for saying, “The sackful of coiffed hair and raging hubris who will be paid twice as much as we will, but can’t read music, will miss every entrance, and will probably ask the entire ensemble to ‘take it down a few steps’ at soundcheck because they feel a little throat tickle on the high notes.”

Musicians view most singers like screenwriters view actors. They’re a necessary evil, good enough at what they do, I suppose, but you have to coddle them, and you certainly don’t ask them to do any script punch-up. Sure, there are a few Paul Giamatti’s and Cate Blanchetts, but there are many more Ashton Kutchers and Denise Richards’, and until we know for sure, we treat all singers like they are raging ego-maniacs and musically inept.

So, it became obvious through several email interactions that the string contractor for the wedding had classified me in her mind as “The Singer.” Questions like, “Can you tell me how many verses and choruses of this song you think you’ll do? Just type them out in order, verse, chorus, verse, chorus, and whether or not you want a pause in between where the strings can play” or this: “When you sing to the original recording, is it OK for your voice, or would you like to move it up or down a little bit?” In her mind, I’m a musical moron, who just happens to be able to make my vocal meat flaps slap together a specific number of times per second, while mouthing words. I love being underestimated.

So, today, I emailed to the contractor the full set of “Michael Lee Special” custom orchestrations, scores and parts, for each of the songs we’re doing, in glorious full-pro layout. Who’s “The Singer” now, baby!

(I was tempted to label the score rehearsal numbers Verse, Chorus, and Pause, but that was too snarky even for me.)