I’m scrolling through music videos on YouTube, in the mood for instrumentals – hoping to be inspired by a unique composition or a fresh style of playing. A recommended video catches my eye. The title reads: Greatest Guitar Player in the World. Naturally, I click.
I give it a listen. It’s a low-budget video of a musician playing an acoustic guitar. An original composition. And a very good one. He’s fingerpicking a beautiful melody that oozes romance and relaxation in equal measure.
As I take in the music, I glance at the comments section. What I see is not what I expected. It’s a flurry of negativity. Relentless. I search for something positive. There are a few encouraging remarks, but they’re buried in a sea of criticism.
It seems the video was uploaded by someone other than the musician. A saving grace, perhaps. One can only hope the guitarist never reads the comments.
But there’s a pattern. No one is saying the music is terrible. Instead, the criticism is aimed squarely at the title. He’s not the greatest guitar player in the world, people argue – loudly.
And rightly so. What makes anyone the greatest guitarist in the world? Is it commercial success? Critical acclaim? Number of views on YouTube? There are countless styles of guitar playing. How do you compare a brilliant classical guitarist to a master of heavy metal? Or blues? Or jazz?
There’s no objective answer. Musical greatness is subjective. Everyone has their own taste, their own favourites. Declaring someone the greatest doesn’t just invite debate – it invites backlash.
That’s the mistake the uploader made. By introducing this talented musician with a superlative so grand it couldn’t possibly be justified, they may have gained some clicks, but did the artist a disservice. What should have been praised as a beautiful piece of original music was mocked because of one inflated claim.
Public speakers make the same mistake when introducing others. We think that lavishing praise sets the speaker up for success, but in reality, it creates impossibly high expectations. The audience is primed for brilliance – and anything short of spectacular feels like a letdown.
A better approach? Be factual. Mention someone’s credentials, their work, their experience. Let the speaker earn their moment. Let their message do the work. A modest introduction gives them a better chance of connecting with the audience – without having to climb a mountain of expectations.
So next time you’re introducing someone, skip the superlatives. State the facts. Then give them the floor. It might not be clickbait – but it might just give them the best shot at success.
Calling anyone the greatest guitar player in the world can end up hurting them more than helping them.