Nearly twenty years is a long time to be away from something that was once part of how you thought, how you listened, how you processed the world. And yet, three months ago, I picked up the guitar again — and something unexpected happened. It didn’t feel like starting over. It felt like a conversation that had simply been paused.
Three months in, I’m in a good place. Not perfect, not where I was at my peak, but genuinely good — and more importantly, different. Better in ways I didn’t anticipate.
What changed — and what surprised me
I’ve been relearning theory. Not because someone told me to, but because now I actually want to understand what I’m playing and why it works. That shift alone says something about where I am now versus where I was at twenty.
I’ve also started hearing certain guitarists differently. Players I once dismissed as too slow, too restrained, or not aggressive enough — I now understand what they were doing. The space between the notes. The weight of a single bend held just long enough. That’s not something you can appreciate when speed and aggression are the only currency you recognize.
And speaking of aggression — my relationship with heavy music has evolved. I still love it. Death, Pantera, Slipknot — that intensity is real and it matters. But it’s no longer the whole story. These days, what draws me in is tone. Emotion. The feeling a phrase creates rather than the technique required to execute it. Speed is still there when it needs to be. It’s just no longer the point.
Sixty riffs in three months
Since returning, I’ve uploaded sixty riffs to TikTok — one chapter at a time, under the name That Epiphone Guy. When the first season closes, every piece will be replayed from the beginning, so anyone following the journey can see the full arc: where it started, where it went, and what a year of returning looks like in real time.
Why this matters — and who this is for
If you’re a guitarist who put the instrument down years ago and hasn’t gone back, this is for you. Everything returns when you make contact again. The muscle memory, the instinct, the feel — it’s all still there, waiting. The process of rediscovering it is not a step backward. It’s some of the most important time you’ll spend with music.
And if you’re a beginner, or someone who hasn’t started yet — the same applies. Progress is not about talent or speed. It’s about continuity. Showing up. Letting the instrument teach you something every time you pick it up.
There’s also something else worth saying. Returning to the guitar has been, genuinely, a form of decompression. A daily space where nothing else exists — no pressure, no noise, just you and the music. That kind of silence within sound is rare. It’s worth protecting.
This is the beginning of a documented journey. Honest, unpolished, and ongoing.