Christian Schneider begins with saying this piece “answers the question you haven’t asked yourself – how is Scott Walker like Metallica?”

 In the 1980s, the band earned an army of hard-core fans among lightly mustached, sleeveless T-shirt-wearing high-schoolers. The band played treble-heavy, nine-minute songs about being burned alive, which limited its mass appeal. But in 1991, the band decided to strike it big with the platinum-selling “Black Album.” The album alienated many of its most ardent fans, who felt betrayed by what they saw as a naked money grab. (Bassist Jason Newsted responded in 1998 by saying, “Yes, we sold out – every seat in the house.”)

(Musical aside: Two other examples are Chicago and Genesis. The former’s music took a giant nosedive when its first number one single was released, “If You Leave Me Now,” a sappy ballad not in keeping with their previous excellent horn rock. The latter supposedly sold out after Peter Gabriel left, although their sales mushroomed when Genesis played more commercially accessible music, in contrast to 20-minute-long songs that got rave reviews from rock critics and zero radio airplay. But I digress.)

The key in music, as it is in politics, is to be ambitious without looking like you’re trying too hard. Politicians are frequently criticized for being “climbers,” as it seems they are only holding their current office to use as a steppingstone for higher personal glory. Their own career seems to come before the public welfare.

But there’s something to be said for politicians who are constantly seeking higher office – after all, if you think you have good ideas, why wouldn’t you want them to apply to as many people as possible? And don’t elected officials with an eye on climbing the political ladder actually work harder to do things people actually want?

Take Wisconsin’s pre-eminent ambitious politician, Gov. Scott Walker. Ever since he was first elected to the Wisconsin Legislature at 26, Walker has been an up-and-comer. (In the early days, as the old joke goes, the most dangerous place in the state Capitol was between Walker and a live microphone.)

But Walker got where he is because he worked hard on issues of importance to people. He was instrumental in reforming the corrections system in Wisconsin. He was elected Milwaukee County executive three times because he held down taxes and cleaned up the old boy’s club that once infested county government. He took on the state’s most entrenched special interest and came out stronger on the back side, as the public seemed to appreciate his efforts to rectify the state’s finances.

Now Walker is, at the very least, laying the groundwork for a presidential run (assuming he is re-elected in 2014). He is doing so by cutting taxes, by committing more money to mental health and by boosting aid to public schools – all popular initiatives. In other words, he is actually trying hard to win over voters. Isn’t this what politicians are supposed to do?

Contrast Walker’s agenda with that of another prominent Wisconsin politician who appeared to have no desire for higher office – Walker’s predecessor, Jim Doyle. Let’s face it: Doyle mailed in the majority of his eight-year governorship. It was as if he led the state by sitting in his underwear at home, drinking Pabst and watching “Jon and Kate Plus Eight.”

In 2009, Madison writer Marc Eisen documented the discontent that liberals had with Doyle, given that the outgoing governor didn’t have a single notable accomplishment on his record. “Everything was designed to protect the governor from any potential bad publicity and risking his re-election,” a 20-year law enforcement veteran and Department of Corrections administrator told Eisen, calling the Doyle administration a “fear-based” environment.

(Another aside: The other factor with Doyle was the makeup of the Legislature. In his first two years in office, Republicans controlled both houses, and Doyle’s 2003 State of the State speech is indistinguishable from a Republicans, featuring his infamous “We must not, we cannot and I will not raise taxes” statement. Of course, once Doyle got a Democratic majority in the Capitol, he raised taxes by $2.1 billion, and our moribund economy is the direct result.)

In 2009, I authored a study for the Wisconsin Policy Research Institute that demonstrated that the longer a Wisconsin legislator serves, the fewer bills he or she typically introduces. Once lawmakers serve 12 years, they essentially become dead wood, comfortably filling a seat that could be filled by a more productive, ambitious successor. …

There are, of course, counterexamples. Paul Ryan is a very active congressman, who, despite being picked as Mitt Romney’s vice presidential nominee, doesn’t seem to have ambition for higher office. Milwaukee Mayor Tom Barrett, on the other hand, is seen in public less often than a Sasquatch, except for the three times he has run for governor.

So if candidates clearly have their eye on higher office, cut them some slack, as long as they earn it by doing a great job where they are. As Metallica would say, nothing else matters.