10 years ago I wanted to change the guitar world. I’d been fed a diet of brand names emblazoned on guitar headstocks since a very young age. The vast majority of guitarists dream of owning a rack of Gibsons or Fenders. The older the better. So, instrument retailers stock their shelves accordingly with Gibsons and Fenders.
When I decided I wanted to do something different.
I was a member of that club. I already prized 3 Fenders and my treasured Gibson Les Paul before I opened up my first guitar shop. I knew what guitarists wanted.
So much so, I started writing about guitars. I should refer to it as a blog, but this was 2004 and, well, blogging didn’t really exist. The writing was well received and I built my first business off of the back of the writing.
Then, one day, I received a call from a Finnish company. They built guitars. Guitars with a difference. 99% of guitars are built from wood. This company built their guitars from fibre-glass. I was intrigued. Not to find out how well they were built. But, to find out how close to their wooden counterparts they sounded. Could they duplicate the guitar tones we’d all become so accustomed to?
Here comes the lightbulb moment
The guitar arrived. I was staggered. It was beautiful. Like nothing I’d ever seen or played. It was different. There are a whole range of reasons why a guitar built from fibreglass benefits a guitar made of wood. I won’t bore you though. But, this small unconventional guitar maker from Finland had opened my eyes. There was more to the industry than the big brand names. If I could build a niche around the ‘less than ordinary’ I could use my website to promote these unconventional brands. I could own a niche.
I’d decided to open up a high-street shop and take this hobby full-time. I could have followed convention and stocked the guitars I believed people were looking to buy. Just like the 400+ other instrument retailers in the UK. The alternative? To create a niche and focus my purpose on delivering guitars that you’d struggle to find anywhere else.
The dastardly temptations of the niche business
The business was a success. But, as my business grew, so did demand for guitars outside of my initial remit. So, the shop and site began to accommodate the guitars that I’d set out to offer alternatives to. We began to practice convention and at that stage the business lost it’s soul. The differentiator. The very reason I went into business in the first place. As the swing towards convention took place, we were brought swiftly into the open tactics of the marketplace. Selling on price, availability and delivery.
I was no longer hearing the stories of individuals who had travelled hundreds of miles to visit our shop. I was hearing about the shop up the street selling the same guitar for £10 cheaper. What had I done?!?
The wider implications of losing your niche
Apart from losing the soul of our business we lost our identity. Our customers changed. We lost our regulars – those that had bought into our business rather than simply buying from our business.
The smaller guitar makers became disinterested. We no longer represented their business. We represented every business.
More importantly, we stopped sharing stories. We started shifting boxes. We sold on price. That makes a business exceptionally disposable.
Lesson learned – You can grow a niche without selling out
I have no doubt that the business would still be in my hands today if I hadn’t deviated away from my business vision. Instead, I fell out of love with the business and sold it to a competitor shortly after. We sold 10,000 guitars along the way. An amazing adventure that taught me an awful lot about the power of niche and business in general. You don’t fear the niche. You embrace it. If your niche market isn’t big enough to fulfil your business purpose, learn how to grow it.
The true retail innovators start out small. They isolate their niche. They capture their niche. They grow their niche. Throughout, they retain full focus on their initial purpose and marketplace. Success grows a niche. Selling out doesn’t. I’d chased the pound signs and tried to accommodate every Tom, Dick and Harry.
I’m glad I once owned a guitar shop. I’m glad that guitar shop taught me the lesson it did. What’s your niche? Don’t lose it.
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