The hardest part is making the decision to actually start.
You bought a course from Hadrien Feraud, Janek Gwizdala, or Tony Grey — all incredible players with fantastic online resources. Maybe you booked a private lesson with Evan Marien — never met him personally but I’m sure he’s a great dude. On top of that you grabbed a few books in PDF or paperback, ordered new strings, maybe even a new bass. Wow — you’re finally at that stage in life where price isn’t the first thing you think about.
But here’s the trap. And everyone falls into it. Every single one of us.
You might actually enjoy the preparation more than the practice itself. Researching the best learning materials, comparing courses, reading reviews, watching gear demos — you spend all your free time on this and genuinely believe that once you buy just one more thing (hello, fellow perfectionists) for your home studio, then you’ll finally sit down and plan when to actually start practicing. Buying gear, choosing a course, picking a teacher — all of it makes you feel incredibly busy. Not a minute wasted. You’re deep in the process of choosing! Serious business!
But at some point you have to be honest with yourself: the preparation phase is way more fun than what comes after.
After the first lesson. After the first couple dozen exercises from that course you bought. After the first 3–6 months of “learning” where you jump from thing to thing but never focus on what would actually help you in your specific musical situation.
And here’s where it gets real. The fear of doing the work.
The books are bought. The courses are paid for. The invoices for private lessons are sitting in your inbox. Now the actual work is supposed to begin — and suddenly “unavoidable circumstances” start popping up. Things that steal your time, drain your motivation, make you feel apathetic. Your brain starts rejecting new exercises (“why do I need scales when I just want to slap?!”). And other progress-killing forces show up uninvited.
After enough of this back-and-forth — where preparation feels amazing but actual practice feels like garbage — your brain builds an association: learning = boring, but shopping for gear and getting ready to learn = thrilling. That’s the moment you need to ask yourself honestly: what is all of this for? To enjoy a week of picking out a bass and accessories, only to sell everything two weeks later?
I just want to remind everyone — myself included — that taking responsibility for your actions is a skill. And it’s one that helps you make better decisions in every area of life. If bass isn’t bringing you joy anymore, take a break. If it used to bring you joy, maybe you just need more time away from the instrument. Try an experiment: put the bass down for a month, two months, six months. Then pick it up and see how you feel. If it’s still dead inside — move on. That takes character. That takes guts. It’s actually a really useful exercise in self-awareness. And the beauty of it is that you can replace “bass guitar” with literally anything in your life.
That’s it. That’s the whole damn thing.
This ties into a question I get constantly: can you really learn bass online?
If you’re still at the very start, don’t overthink it — just learn the notes on the fretboard and play.