Why Point of View Beats Versatility

Songwriting and guitar playing are everything. Or at least that’s how I think about it. If a guitarist isn’t helping write music people actually want to listen to, then what are we really celebrating?

Songwriting Has to Come First

That’s the basic idea here: great guitarists should care about sounding like songwriters. Not in some vague, artsy way. I mean in the most practical sense possible. The guitar exists to help create great music. Technique, speed, and facility all matter, but they have to come second.

If you can already hear something in your head but your hands can’t quite keep up with it, then sure, that’s when speed matters. That’s when practice matters. But speed is only useful if it helps you express the musical idea you already have. Otherwise, it’s just a skill in search of a point.

And that’s where I think people get it wrong when they talk about versatility like it’s the highest goal. Versatility is nice. Being able to do a lot of things is useful. But if those things don’t add up to great songs, I don’t know how much it really matters.

A Great Guitar Part Is Still Songwriting

Now, I’m not saying riffs and solos are separate from songwriting. They aren’t. Great phrasing is songwriting. A solo can be as much a part of the song as the verse or chorus. If you think the solo in November Rain or the intro to Stairway to Heaven isn’t songwriting, I think you’re missing the point completely. Those are iconic parts because they are written parts. They’re not random exercises.

That’s why I don’t like the idea that a guitar player should be measured mainly by how many styles they can casually move through. Sure, you can admire that. But if the playing doesn’t leave you with a memorable musical idea, what exactly did all that versatility buy you?

Think about Sweet Child O’ Mine. That riff is huge, obviously. But part of why it works is that it’s not just a flashy guitar lick floating above the song. It follows the chord movement. It helps define the rhythm. It sets up everything around it. And then the solo comes in and does the same thing. It’s not there to prove that the player can do more than the song needs. It’s there because the song needs it.

Iconic Parts Usually Come From Strong Songs

That’s the bigger point. Iconic guitar parts usually aren’t floating around in weak songs. Usually the memorable riff, intro, or solo is memorable because it belongs to a strong song. The part and the song are doing the work together.

So when people talk about great guitar identities, I think the real question is not, “How many things can this player do?” It’s, “Can you hear this player and immediately understand what they’re about?” That kind of identity matters more to me than pure versatility. A strong point of view is more valuable than being able to dabble in everything.

Because if a guitarist has a real point of view, that shows up in the writing. You hear it in the phrasing. You hear it in the riffs. You hear it in the solos. You hear it in the way the guitar supports the song instead of trying to outrun it.

That’s what I care about. Not whether a player can do every possible thing. Whether they can make the thing they do mean something.

The Guitar Should Serve the Song

At the end of the day, the best guitar playing isn’t about showing off a catalog of abilities. It’s about writing great music. A solo should serve the song. A riff should serve the song. Even the most recognizable guitar moment in the world still has to work as part of a bigger piece.

That’s why I think great guitarists should think like songwriters first. If the guitar part is memorable, it’s because it belongs in the song. If the playing has a clear identity, it’s because the player had something to say. And if the music connects, that’s the real test.

Versatility can be impressive. But a point of view is what people actually remember.