I was driving from Nottingham to the London International Guitar Show. Something that, in any other year, I would’ve been genuinely excited about. But this time felt different. The whole drive down, one question kept circling my head:
Why am I even going?
At that point, I’d been running 15 Second Gear Demo for over three years. I loved it! Testing pedals, learning parts, recording tracks, and most importantly, connecting with like-minded people. But something had shifted. Work stress was creeping in, and the joy I once had for playing and creating was starting to fade.
So spending my day off walking around a loud guitar show, surrounded by gear I didn’t want and conversations I didn’t feel like having… didn’t exactly sound appealing.
Still, I went.
I did the usual first lap of the show floor, half-looking at gear, mostly trying to avoid eye contact so I wouldn’t have to make small talk. Truthfully, I couldn’t tell you what I saw. I don’t think I was really taking any of it in.
Upstairs was quieter. It usually was. And it’s where people I knew tended to be. As much as I wasn’t feeling sociable, I knew I couldn’t just ignore them. So I gave myself a quiet pep talk and headed up.
That’s where I ran into Damian.
Damian, who runs Guitar Gear Pro, is one of those genuinely good people in the industry. I walked over to his stand and was immediately greeted with a huge hug. We got chatting, and what started as a catch-up turned into something much more important.
We spoke about where I was at creatively, and he mentioned he’d been in a similar position before starting his own business. Somewhere in that conversation, I said something I hadn’t really said out loud before:
I think I want to try building guitars.
At that point, it made no logical sense. I had no real experience. I’d assembled a couple of partscasters, sure, but I didn’t even own a drill. Let alone the skills to use them.
But Damian didn’t hesitate. He told me to go for it.
And whether he realised it or not, that moment flipped a switch in my head.
I didn’t hang around much longer after that. My mind was racing. Ideas were forming faster than I could process them. The drive home ended up being more important than the show itself.
Somewhere on that journey, everything clicked.
I had a name for the brand.
I had a name for the first guitar, and a reason behind it.
All of this, before I’d designed a single shape or cut a piece of wood.
Over the next few days, I reached out to Matt from Fidelity Guitars. Matt had previously lent me some of his guitars for demos, and I’d spent time filming with him in his workshop. Looking back at that footage, and another interview I’d done with Stephen from Audio Kitchen—I noticed something.
Their stories felt familiar.
The only difference was that I was at the very beginning of mine.
So I asked Matt if I could come and spend some time in his workshop, just to understand what running a small guitar business actually looked like. Thankfully, he said yes.
I ended up spending a week there.
Between long hours of sanding, a steady supply of sausage rolls, and more Irn-Bru than I’d care to admit, things started to take shape. Not just in terms of guitars, but in understanding what it would take to build something of my own.
That week didn’t just teach me how to start.
It showed me that I could.
And that was the real beginning of Molyneaux Guitars.