There’s a strange sound that echoes through guitar shops. It’s not music. Not really. It’s the same riff—or even the same note—played over and over.
A quiet “chunk chunk chunk” in the corner. Someone fiddling with knobs. Adjusting pedals. Plugging into a different amp.
If you play (electric) guitar, you may know what I’m talking about.
That’s not practice. That’s not a song.
That’s tone chasing.
Signature
Tone isn’t just what your guitar sounds like. It’s what you sound like—as an artist, as a person.
In the metal genre, for example, you can recognize James Hetfield (Metallica), Dimebag Darrell (Pantera), or Tim Henson (Polyphia) from a couple of notes. Not because they’re playing something specific—but because they sound like themselves.
Their tone is a fingerprint.
Guitarists talk about tone constantly. It’s sharp. It’s muddy. It’s creamy. Spanky. Velvety. Bright. Dark.
There’s no shortage of adjectives—and no shortage of gear to chase them. Pedals, amps, pickups, strings, mics, EQ settings, cables, tube warmth.
All in the pursuit of something elusive. Personal. Signature.
Tone becomes the holy grail. And at the same time… It can become the excuse.
Readiness
The trap is easy to fall into:
“I’ll sound good once I get the right amp.” “I can’t write anything decent until I find my sound.” “I’ll start recording once I upgrade my gear.”
But what we’re really saying is:
“I don’t believe I’m allowed to make something until I’m good enough.”
Tone becomes a stand-in for identity. For capability.
And in chasing it… we stall.
The Search
In a recent interview, James Hetfield—Metallica’s frontman and rhythm guitar icon—flipped through a massive book cataloging all his gear.
When he reached the amp section, he paused.
“I don’t know if you can get my exact sound... I’m still looking for it.” he said.
Let that sink in.
The guy who defined the sound of an entire genre. Still looking. Still chasing. After forty years.
Because tone isn’t a fixed destination. It’s a relationship. A moving target. A question you keep asking.
“Who am I now?” “And what do I sound like today?”
One Guitar
In another clip, Lars Ulrich—Metallica’s drummer—watched James tinker with guitars during a soundcheck they did in 2013.
As James playing, he paused. Hesitated. Then said...
“I need the other guitar.”
I mean. James sounded fine. He sounded great (to me). But he probably didn’t think so. Didn’t sound right. Didn’t feel right. He wanted his Flying V.
“It's just weird. Playing that song on this guitar.” James justified.
Lars looked back. Shook his head, and said:
“Remember when you had only one guitar... How easy it was back then.”
That stuck with me.
Because sometimes? Tone chasing is just another form of procrastination.
Another guitarist, Tom Morello (Rage Against the Machine), took a different path. No gear spiral. No endless tone tweaking. He played with the same guitar and amp for decades—and made it unmistakably his.
“None of the gear matters... What so ever.”
He rejected the gear spiral. Not because he didn’t care about tone—but because he cared more about making music.
He worked with, around, and through the constraints. And made it sound like him.
Beyond Guitar
This isn’t just about guitar. I see it in tech all the time:
“We need this framework.”
“We can’t solve it until we adopt this new system.”
“We’re blocked until we get access to that library.”
But often, the issue isn’t the tooling. It’s the focus.
We start chasing the sound instead of addressing the song. We point at the stack instead of facing the problem. We wait for clarity to arrive through external tools—when really, clarity starts with us.
Gear doesn’t make the thing.
Practice does. Effort does. Taste does.
Play Anyway
Tone matters. Of course it does.
It’s your fingerprint. Your feel. Your clarity, made audible. But you don’t find it by waiting. You find it by playing.
Over time. Through reps. Through bad recordings, missed notes, muddy takes. Tone isn’t what gets you started. It’s what gets revealed along the way.
So plug in. Strum something. Hit record. Write the thing. Ship the draft. Build the page.
Even if it sounds wrong. Even if it sounds like someone else. Even if you don’t know what “your sound” is yet.
Start anyway.
Tone will catch up.