Blissful naiveté or how I used to make buying decisions

Photo gear, audio equipment, computers – all things I’ve bought before. But my old approach was radically different. I’m not kidding when I say the contrast between then and now couldn’t be any greater. Thinking back on the old days, it seems surreal – like from another life.

This is largely due to how the internet has evolved. But how I’ve changed isn’t to be underestimated, either. I have a suspicion that those two things are related.

Now then, the best way to tell this story is through the lens of my interaction with musical instruments. Even if you don’t play an instrument yourself, you’ll definitely recognise yourself in these shopping behaviours if you’re over 40. And perhaps even if you’re not.

Ready, set, get!

Back in my days as a pimply teenager in 1992, I decided to learn electric guitar. So, I walked into Andy’s Music Shop in Uster and said, «Hello, I’m looking for an electric guitar.» Fifteen minutes later, I was the proud owner of what I thought was a super cool instrument.

Not for a second did I stop to wonder why there were so many guitars and what their differences were. Why should I have? It was the salesperson’s job to explain all that to me. And explain it he did. The only problem was I didn’t understand a word of what Andy, the store owner, was saying. What in the world was a «Strat»? Today, I know this is the colloquial name for the Stratocaster, a specific model of electric guitar. At the time, I didn’t even realise I was buying a Strat. OK, strictly speaking, it was a Strat imitation. It wasn’t an original Fender, it was a cheap model from a Korean brand called Vester. Needless to say, I wasn’t aware of that, either. And I didn’t care.

«Can I hook up the guitar to my stereo?» I wanted to know. Yeah, sure, was what Andy told me. He just mentioned I shouldn’t turn it up too loud. That sounded good to me; I had just bought a stereo with the money from my confirmation and was just about broke. Looking back, this purchase was also dubious. The hi-fi corner in the shopping centre had two stereo systems on offer. I got the more expensive one. Why? Because it had more buttons and labels, so it obviously had to be the better one.

Not long after, I showed up at the music store again. «Hello, I’m looking for an amp.» For some reason, my guitar just didn’t sound so good over the stereo. Just like that, I walked out, cheap and compact guitar amp in tow.

But my playing still didn’t sound good. It didn’t sound cool; as different from my rock idols as it could get. A classmate who also played guitar told me I needed a distortion pedal.

«Hello, I’m looking for a distortion pedal …»

By now, I was getting discount after discount at the music store, with Andy not actually calculating any prices, but going by what felt right. I’m quite certain he gave everyone discounts on principle, just as he was on a first name basis with everyone on principle.

The distortion pedal consisted of an orange metal box that connected my guitar to my amp. Its name? The Boss Distortion DS-1. I still have the thing – and it’s sold to this day.

It still wasn’t enough to make my playing sound good, just different. But that was enough for the time being.

Effects pedal

BOSS (Electronics) DS-1 Distortion

Guitar

10

Effects pedal

BOSS (Electronics) DS-1 Distortion

Guitar

10

A tube amp, that’s the solution! Or not

Years later, when I had money again, I was convinced that I needed a tube amp. A tube amp sounds much better than a transistor amp – or so I’d had many people tell me.

«Hello, I’m looking for a tube amp.»

This was in a different store, in Zurich. It was big, but quite empty; looked like it was in the process of closing down. There was only one tube amp left within my budget: used, for 500 francs. The salesperson showed it to me. I gave it a quick go. Not knowing what could possibly be bad about it, I was satisfied and bought it. Like all tube amps, it was extremely heavy. I lugged it to the tram stop, onto the train, the bus, and all the way home.

The amp had two channels. One of them gave you distortion, which sounded better than what the little pedal could do, but not legitimately good. At least the thing was proper loud.

And so on, and so forth

This went on for many years. I bought a guitar that looked like my teacher’s guitar – because it sounded good when he played it. I bought an overdrive pedal to replace the distortion pedal (another metal box, just yellow instead of orange) – because when the other band in our practice room used it, it sounded very, very good. When I used it, less so.

The other band’s guitarist had a device with a multi-line screen hooked up to his amp, a veritable computer that took minutes to boot up. I didn’t have the faintest clue what this device did exactly, but I got one as well: a Digitech brand multi-effect unit, because the salesman at the store said it was the only serious one out there. I spent whole afternoons playing around on it, programming endless sounds that all sounded more or less ghastly.

Just like that, a new millennium had dawned. I could now play the guitar quite well and had grown up along the way. Though I still didn’t get why one thing sounded good and another bad. But at least I’d come to realise that it was no use continuing to buy stuff at random.

First too little information, now too much

Today, everything’s different. It can take me months to come to a buying decision – and countless impossibly long YouTube videos presenting a guitar in detail, including how it sounds. But even after all that, I still can’t say how it really sounds, because numerous other factors influence the sound, such as the amplifier, any effect pedals and the guitarist. So, I go on a watching spree of videos about amps, effects units and guitarists.

And then there’s the fact that there are hundreds of similar guitars. I have to remind myself that my hobby is playing guitar, not watching guitar videos.

What happened?

The internet. Yes, it existed back in 1992, but I’d never heard of it. And when I first learned of it in 1996, it was nothing more than a fun waste of time. I couldn’t inform myself online any more than I could shop online. Things stayed that way for a long time.

If the web had existed in its current form back then, I would’ve been able to acquire my knowledge more quickly. I would have made more informed purchasing decisions instead of flailing around in the dark for years. I probably would’ve accumulated less nonsense, too. Then again ... Without the internet, I wasn’t aware of all the gimmicky things out there, so I wasn’t in danger of buying them.

Compulsive research

The new opportunities have also changed me. I’m much more critical, I question everything. But I’m also much more worried about buying something that’s not quite right or overpriced. All this to say, I don’t only save time because I have access to better information. I also waste time watching too many videos and overthinking.

This is also related to a phenomenon called choice overload. There are so many choices that I’m never at the point where I’m certain there’s nothing better out there. This can lead me to put off buying things forever, even when I’m unhappy with my current setup.

For large, expensive purchases, this might not be such a bad thing. But I know some people who refuse to even buy a kettle without first reading numerous reviews. For weeks on end, they immerse themselves in all things kettle. By the end, they’re convinced they’re absolute experts on the topic. But what’s the point? Even the world’s best kettle simply boils water.

Are you still busy comparing or are you off living?

The point is, I wasn’t any more dissatisfied back when I used to buy stuff in total naiveté. Sure, there were disappointments, but I didn’t see them as excessively tragic. Today, making a bad purchase annoys me much more. After all, I invested a lot of time into it and could have – indeed, should have – known better.

I’m torn. I definitely don’t want to go back to being as stupid as I was at 16 and make the same mistakes again. But I do wish for a pinch of that optimistic naiveté. The easygoing «don’t compare literally everything, just give it a go» attitude. Learning things through trial and error. Doing things yourself instead of always watching what others do. Concerning myself not with what I could have, but with what I do have. In other words, just living.