Earlier this week, I saw the great Buddy Guy live in concert. At 88, the blues legend still prowls the stage like a man with something to prove—but there’s also a real sensitivity to his swagger. Living and performing for eight decades will endow you with a lot of wisdom and humility if you’re paying any attention.

Between songs, Buddy told stories:

As I watched and listened, something struck me: a blues band can offer surprisingly good insights and lessons for leadership—including for leadership succession.

In a good band, it’s crucial for the bass and drums to “lock in” together: the rhythm section keeps everyone grounded, moving forward and in the same direction. They’re your management and control functions. The bass? Steady, dependable, on point. The drums? Driving the beat, making things happen. The rhythm guitar is your product development, telling you where it’s all going; it’s what you tend to hum along to. The lead guitar steps out front once in a while and enable the audience feel something special—usually something electrifying. That’s your vision and mission. The lead singer may tell the story, but the lead guitar makes it unforgettable. (Led Zeppelin were a great example of this metaphor, where at their best each of the four players was perfectly collaborative and essential to the total experience.)

In a happy serendipity, I spent a couple of hours the morning after the show talking with the two most senior partners at a private equity firm I've been working with for the last two decades. They’re working through a leadership transition, so they’re at a critical juncture. As in most founder-led companies, effective private equity successions are rare. Too often, the firm simply cannot survive after the departure of its visionary founder, who usually has deep expertise in both investing and fundraising.

The blues band metaphor came to mind.

To play it out, leadership transitions often go sideways because organizations forget that changing the lead guitarist changes the whole sound of the band. The rhythm guitarist who steps up to take the lead will inevitably play in a different style, with their own strut. That doesn’t mean they’re better or worse—they’re just different, and the band has to adapt. And someone new has to step in and hold the rhythm, or the music won’t rock.

Buddy Guy always talks about the blues tradition as something he inherited and now passes on. This, too, is a leadership lesson: great leaders honor the past, but they don’t get stuck in it. They evolve the music. At one point Guy took off his guitar, laid it on top of one of the massive speakers to generate a sonic wall of feedback, and then played the chords of Cream’s “Sunshine of Your Love” by striking the guitar strings with a drumstick. The crowd roared.

The best performers bring the crowd with them. And that crowd matters. A band isn’t just playing to the audience—they’re playing with them. They watch for reactions. They change tempo. They tell stories between songs to make the room feel small and intimate, even when it’s not. In business, the best leaders do the same thing: they tune into their teams, their markets, and the cultural and emotional Zeitgeist.

Of course, not all band stories are smooth. Think of the latter-day lineup of The Yardbirds: Jimmy Page and Jeff Beck, two of the greatest guitarists alive, simply couldn’t play together. Too much ego? Perhaps. Or maybe just incompatible styles. Technical excellence isn’t enough. Bands—and leadership teams—work best when there’s chemistry, not just talent.

And sometimes, the frontman disappears. Literally. AC/DC lost their iconic lead singer, Bon Scott, in 1979. For most bands, that would’ve been the end. But they found an unexpected replacement in Brian Johnson who was, remarkably, a singer that Bon Scott had once mentioned admiring. AC/DC’s next album? Back in Black ,the top-selling rock album of all time, and one that shares a great deal in style and spirit with the show Buddy put on the other night.

So what can a blues band teach us about leadership? Plenty.

Know your role but never forget you’re part of a legacy. Honor those who came before you.

Respect the groove and tune into the crowd. Your followers working with you is what creates the transcendent experience.

Don’t confuse style with substance … and remember that both matter.

And when you’re ready to take your guitar solo, play the hell out of the song, but never lose the pulse of the rhythm section behind you.

Buddy Guy never has.

Special thanks to John Boochever, Elizabeth Jensen Maurer, Adam Mirabella, and John Morgan for their excellent input. Rock on!