Why In-Person Learning Matters

It has never been easier to learn music. It has also never been easier to feel like you’re falling short.

A friend and I were recently talking about what it would have been like to grow up learning music today, with YouTube and social media as always-available resources.

At one point, he said something that stuck with me: there’s probably a small chance he would have become really good at something—but a much larger chance that being constantly surrounded by people performing at an extremely high level would have been discouraging.

The internet has fundamentally changed what it means to be a beginner at anything. When many of us were first learning instruments, our reference points were relatively limited: a teacher, maybe a few friends, maybe a handful of professional musicians we admired. There was space to struggle without that feeling being constantly reinforced.

Now, the moment you show interest in an instrument (or anything else) online, an algorithm steps in. It will absolutely show you useful things—clear explanations, thoughtful breakdowns, genuinely excellent teaching. In that sense, there has never been a better time to access information.

But the same system also ensures that you are quickly exposed to the extreme edge of human ability (because that's what drives "engagement"). Eight-year-olds playing with virtuosic precision. Drummers performing things that feel almost physically impossible. Guitarists who have spent decades refining their craft, presented to you in a 30-second clip.

"Hey, I heard you like the fall season..."

At some point, the balance shifts. You start by trying to learn, but gradually you find yourself watching more than playing, and comparing more than just improving yourself.

This is not just anecdotal. Research on social media use consistently shows that environments built around constant exposure to others’ achievements tend to amplify social comparison, which in turn is associated with lower self-esteem and increased symptoms of anxiety and depression.

Learning music is especially vulnerable to this dynamic, because it is already an activity that requires a certain tolerance for discomfort. After all, being a beginner at something means being bad at it! Progress is slow. Improvement is uneven. You will sound worse than you want to sound for longer than you expect. Under normal circumstances, that’s manageable. In a comparison-heavy environment, it becomes much harder.

There is also a more subtle effect that shows up over time: the shift from doing to consuming. Watching a great tutorial can feel productive and watching twenty great tutorials is effortless online. But without the corresponding time spent actually playing, very little changes. I've seen probably 100 videos about how to grow tomatoes. But none of them taught me as much as going out into the garden and actually trying.

Consuming videos resembles learning, but it lacks the followthrough and friction that produces growth.

This is where in-person music education continues to have a meaningful advantage because it is structured in a way that protects the learning process.

In a private lesson or a group class, your reference point is intentionally constrained. You are working at your level, with a teacher who understands where you are and what the next step should be. Progress is measured against your past self, not against the most advanced players in the world. That sounds simple, but it has significant psychological consequences.

There is also an element of accountability that is difficult to replicate online. When you have a scheduled lesson, you are expected to show up and play. Not watch, not browse, not think about playing—actually play.

Equally important is the social environment. Music, at its core, is a shared activity. Playing with other people, even at a very basic level, creates a different kind of motivation—one rooted in participation rather than comparison.

And that, in our humble opinion, is the point.

At Green Room Music, the goal is not to produce the next viral performer. It is to help people build a relationship with music that lasts. Technical ability matters, but it is not the primary objective. The primary objective is continuity—to keep playing, to keep improving, and to remain connected to the process over time.

The biggest risk for most students is not that they won’t become great. It’s that they will stop.

Online learning, used carefully, it can be a valuable supplement—a way to explore new ideas, reinforce concepts, or find inspiration. But for all of its strengths, it can also pull people into cycles of comparison, distraction, and passive consumption. On its own, it is rarely sufficient to support sustained growth.

Access to information is no longer the limiting factor. What matters more is the right information, at the right time, in the right environment.

So let’s keep building that environment together, for all musicians, present and future.