Recipe for Success

Right then — pour yourself something civilised, loosen the apron strings, and let’s talk recipes. Not for béchamel or brisket, but for learning guitar.

You tap a few confident keystrokes into Google — like seasoning a pan with a flourish — and what do you get? Roughly 75 million online guitar courses. Seventy-five million. That’s not a menu, that’s a banquet table groaning under its own ambition.

Now here’s the trouble, my friend: when the pantry’s that full, where do you begin?

Do you grab one of the “Top Five” like it’s today’s special and hope for the best? Do you spend three hours reading reviews that all say, “Great for beginners!” in slightly different fonts… and then pick one of the Top Five anyway? Or do you wander off to YouTube, type in your favourite song with “guitar lesson” tacked on the end, and see what the algorithm serves you up?

Tempting, all of it. But before you start flambéing your free time, let’s mise en place this whole operation properly.

Here’s what most online courses assume: that you’re already set up. Guitar in tune. Chair at the right height. Back reasonably straight. No cables tangled like overcooked spaghetti. They dive straight into the playing — chop chop chop — without checking whether your kitchen’s in order.

And that, my dear sous-chef of six strings, is where many a promising dish collapses.

Organisation is your secret ingredient. If your guitar’s easy to grab — already out of the case, already plugged in, already tuned — you’ll practice. If you have to wrestle with cables, hunt for a tuner, or clear last night’s paperwork off the table first? You’ll mysteriously decide you deserve another drink instead.

Progress loves convenience. Tiny, regular sessions — ten minutes here, fifteen there — are like tasting as you cook. Adjust, refine, repeat. Much better than ignoring the pot all week and then trying to rescue it in one heroic hour.

Now beyond the instrument — and this is the bit nobody really talks about — there’s mindset. Time. A loose plan. Knowing why you’re practicing what you’re practicing. That’s the stock simmering quietly in the background, giving depth to the whole dish.

So I’ve decided to do something chefs rarely admit to: go back to basics. Sharpen the knives again. Check the seasoning. Start from scratch and share what happens along the way.

First up? The practice setup. Minimal gear. Clear thinking about practice time. And then, yes, we’ll start sampling the online offerings like a well-paced tasting menu. Over six months, I’ll chart the progress — what works, what’s under-seasoned, what’s surprisingly delightful.

I did dabble with the Fender Play app a few months ago. A little nibble rather than a full meal. There were flavours I liked — clean layout, easy to follow — and a few niggles, mostly to do with the devices I was using. Nothing fatal. Just needed better plating.

Overall though? It was approachable. Friendly. Didn’t shout at me. So that’s where I’ll begin this particular culinary — sorry, musical — odyssey.

Now top up your glass. We’re just getting started.