I’ve been obsessed with playing guitar and making music since I was thirteen. Obviously, as a giant nerd, I approach this in the nerdiest way possible. So much of my playing is thinking about the mathematical relationships in patterns of intervals and shapes. I love challenging abrasive music that involves odd counting or microtones. I geek out on music technology, be it software or hardware. But in the decades I’ve been doing this, I’ve never come across someone who thinks I’d be able to get better at music through science.

Why are there no science-based guitar lessons? There are countless books with varied methods on the fastest way to learn or the best way to get better. There’s beautiful math you can nerd out on. Just like in weightlifting, people sell their lessons online on Instagram. But none of the musicians I follow ever put up PubMed screenshots. Instead, you find a psychopathic Spaniard who learns to play impossibly hard drum parts with one arm tied behind his back.

Don’t the laws of adaptation apply to music? It’s certainly the case that the more you practice, the better you get. Much of music practice is just sensorimotor learning. You are adapting both neural pathways and strengthening muscles. There’s psychophysical adaptation in syncing your limbs up with a click track. There are fine motor skills involved in hyperefficient picking. It’s also clear that if you practice too much, you’ll make your hands bleed or develop tendonitis. Surely Selye’s General Adaptive Syndrome applies to woodshedding.

I mean, the concept of progressive overload clearly applies to practice. The way you learn a song is to set your metronome to half time and work your way through the notes. Once you have it down, you increase the beats per minute by one. Each time you come back, you play faster than last time. Next thing you know, you are shredding Chopin.

And it’s not like there’s one perfect way to learn how to be the best at your instrument. There are wide disagreements about the best auxiliary exercises to improve your chops. There is an infinite collection of tutorials and courses designed to improve your skills, telling you which rhythms to practice, which strings to skip, which positions to memorize. And yet, no one thinks you need to run RCTs on these books to crown the best one.

You might say music exists more for art than for competition, and I’d applaud your idealism. But the music industry is a rough one, and it gets pretty cutthroat when you try to make a career out of it.

I write all this to ask what it is about the gym that makes us think that we can science it. I don’t have a good answer to this yet. I have a few partial answers, but none are particularly satisfying to me.

First, there is a clear connection to medicine, and for a wide variety of reasons we’ve decided that medicine needs to be based in science. Physical therapy can only argue for legitimacy in the healthcare sphere if it can be proven a cost-efficient therapy. That means it must be based in our post-modern science of efficiency, and hence we are forced to run RCTs.

The medical reasoning breaks down when it comes to weight lifting. A lot of the biggest names in the science-based lifting community are obsessed with hypertrophy, the fancy scientific word for increased muscle size. While it’s true that to be a strength athlete you need to have big muscles, most of these guys are selling programs for aesthetics. Dudes want to grow their muscles because looking jacked builds their self-esteem. The sport of hypertrophy, bodybuilding, is competitive body dysmorphia. Bodybuilding is an astonishingly unhealthy sport. It involves taking ungodly doses of performance-enhancing drugs, alternating binge eating with starvation, and walking around at dangerously low body fat levels. The pro athletes in this sport die at rates far higher than football players. It’s a mess. There is no good health-related reason for you to look like a modern bodybuilder.

But perhaps the universal desire of perfect aesthetics is a core part of why science is so alluring. Not everyone wants to be able to play 10 over 11 polyrhythms, but everyone wants to look hot. And since it’s so universal, the nerds want a way to stick it to the jocks and claim a masculine domain that hadn’t originally been theirs. The authority of science gives the nerds an institutional leg up in a world where all men want to stake their claim. Science-based training is to the gym as the analytics department is to professional sports teams.

However, when it comes to the strength sports, the science takes you about as far as the analytics takes a football team. Strength sports are not as quantitative as they look. There’s no optimal answer for any person to follow to become a championship Olympic weightlifter, even though the goal of that sport is to get the sum of two numbers as high as possible. Working hard, resting, and eating get you 80% of the way there. Science can’t fill in the rest. If you want to do heavy clean and jerks and snatches, you have to show up and do them.