The Salieri Complex: My Life of Mediocrity

Do you ever have those moments where you read or hear something that perfectly encapsulates your current position in life? I recently stumbled across an unofficial psychological syndrome called “The Salieri Complex” – named for Antonio Salieri, the late-18th century Italian composer known for his rivalry with Mozart. This relationship was the basis for the 1984 film Amadeus in which Salieri, from an insane asylum, confesses to a priest the tale of how he was ultimately responsible for Mozart’s death. Incidentally, I hold Amadeus in the same regard as The Deer Hunter: if you haven’t seen it, you’re a loser (see my Jan. 24th entry.)

In the movie, Salieri, himself a confident court composer who has given his life to God as an offering in return for the musical talent God has bestowed upon him, becomes acquainted with Mozart. He eventually finds himself competing with Mozart and becoming envious of Mozart’s talent.  When confronted with the effortless genius of Mozart, Salieri sadly realizes that he is doomed to a life of mediocrity and, in a cathartic final scene, counsels the emotionally exhausted priest, with whom he has been sharing his story:

“I will speak for you, Father; I speak for all mediocrities in the world. I am their champion; I am their patron saint.”

Then, as he is wheeled down a corridor filled with mental patients, some chained to the wall or in cages, he joyfully proselytizes and offers absolution to his flock of lunatics:

“Mediocrity is everywhere. I absolve you. I absolve you. I absolve you all.”

Salieri has fully accepted his mediocrity and that of all those around him.

I stumbled across the Salieri Complex in a review written by Dan Zak of the Washington Post about Alec Baldwin’s new book, Nevertheless. As he closes, he disappointingly asks of Baldwin, “What about your relationship with God…and let’s address your Salieri complex head-on.” He follows with a line that slapped me right in the face: “How do you do meaningful work when you’re smart enough to know you’re not good enough?”

In a nutshell, those of us afflicted with the Salieri Complex always feel there is someone much better at what we do than we are.

This is a great segue into the whole Dunning-Kruger effect which states that incompetent people overestimate their own skill level and lack the self-awareness to realize their mistake. In other words, you’re too incompetent to know you’re incompetent. There are scads of articles out there now that delve into this fascinating topic, most of them apply to a certain segment of Trump supporters. If you’re one of them, go ahead and read it anyway; you probably won’t know it’s about you.

Anyway, this Salieri Complex hit me head on because I immediately realized it perfectly encapsulates my musical life: it has since I was in college. I went to a small, liberal arts school where I blossomed from an acne-ridden fat kid with zero confidence into what I thought was a pretty damn good bassist with little-to-no acne and a svelte figure...a veritable stud-muffin as the girls would say (see below.) I was the classic “big fish in a little pond” but, as Mr. Dunning and Mr. Kruger would’ve told me had I been one of their lab rats, I was too dumb to know it at the time.

That's me, the stud-muffin on the left, with a couple of my college jazz band buddies.

Let’s fast-forward 20-something years to the recent past. In spite of the efforts of Mr. Dunning and Mr. Kruger, I had fallen into another incompetent haze where I felt like I was a bass player extraordinaire and was playing with a hot band, you know, kickin’ ass and takin’ names as the kids say nowadays.

But hang on there just a minute, Guiseppe! Now we have Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, and a host of other social shit-shows that hold our attention like a bad haircut with a red tie. I follow many Instagram accounts of talented bass players from around the world who seem to be normal people like me and they routinely post video clips of themselves playing some killer bass grooves. It’s hugely entertaining but at the same time, I found that constantly watching players who are technically better than me was wearing me down. I even tried posting my own video of me “kickin’ it with a tasty groove” but removed it after deciding that is was not even close to what I usually saw on IG (that’s Instagram for all you uncool people out there.)

Then I read Mr. Zak’s aforementioned article and did a self-diagnosis: the Salieri Complex! It all became crystal clear. How do I create meaningful (i.e. impressive) work bass videos when I’m smart enough to know I’m not good enough? Answer: I can’t. I must admit though, that like Salieri, I found a certain peace when I came to grips with my own mediocrity. The complex has even become manifest in the basses I obtain. I didn’t buy a Music Man Stingray bass for $2000 or the Jaco Fender Jazz fretless bass for $1800; I bought the less-expensive knock-off brands because, in my head, I wasn’t good enough to “deserve” the top-of-the-line. Finally, it all makes sense.  

Do I write this to elicit sympathy or petty encouragement from you, my valued reader? No. I have a pretty good life and I’m a decent bassist in a pretty damn good band (that's now taking bookings for fall) with some awesome guys. Do I write this cathartically to purge myself of any Dunning/Kruger-esque ignorance or delusion? No. I am acutely aware of my short-comings as a musician and, to a lesser degree, as a person. An insane person doesn’t know he’s insane but I know that I am mediocre. My, my, self-actualization feels nice!

Lastly, as I’m wheeled down the corridor of my insane asylum (that’s just a metaphor for life, Holmes, not a literal reflection of my home life), I look at you, dear reader, and offer you tender absolution from your mediocrity, should there be any in your life. Acknowledge it. Embrace it. Learn from it and remember, there can be no excellence without mediocrity. The world NEEDS us.

I absolve you. 

Travis