Hello, thank you for making time for us at such a short notice. I heard that you run a sake brewery and wondered if you would tell us a little bit about sake making.

No, no, I’m now a president and not the managing director so I don’t really ‘run’ the brewery. I only experiment and prepare for the next fight. You might be able to call it research and development, to put it simply.

I see, so you are developing new sake products! I was always curious about how sake was being produced.

Well, in my case, I come up with the name first. The name comes first, then I start thinking about the taste. It might be more accurate to say that I weave a story from the name and then start experimenting with the taste. After that, when I think I’ve done enough research and development, I pass it onto the brewery and the actual production gets going from there.

So you’re adopting this somewhat obscure way of sake making.

I think it’s now an interesting era for people who brew sake seriously, because these days, women have started drinking sake too. The fact that ladies – who are great story lovers – indulge in sake is intriguing. They have an acute sense of taste but taste in the end is just a perceptual illusion, you see. (laughs)

What? Taste is just an illusion? I can kind of understand that women love stories but what do you mean by taste is just an illusion?

For instance, there is this concept that “flowers are beautiful.” But that’s because there is an assumption in human minds that “flowers should be beautiful.” The beauty lies not in the flowers but in human brains. Don’t you think?

Well, that’s confusing….

Flowers are nothing more than flowers. It’s neither beautiful nor ugly if there is no one to appreciate it and it’s people who add the perception of beauty to it. And the same goes for the taste of sake. So making stories that human brains perceive as ‘tasty’ is one of the aspects of what I’m doing.

Okay, I’m starting to get it a little bit now. Can you give us an actual example?

It’s really simple. For example, there is a non-fiction author called Mayumi Mori and she once published a critical biography of Ogai Mori called “Ogai no Saka.” We were asked to brew new sake to commemorate the book’s publication and the idea I got at the time was to use 100 year-old yeast – because the book was about Ogai Mori. He was an author from Meiji Period, and that’s about 100 years ago, you see?

Oh, indeed. It’s certainly romantic to read the book while drinking sake made with yeast from 100 years ago. But you still need proper skills, right?

Of course we do. If the story isn’t based on skills that produce a high quality, it all becomes fictional. I suppose it’s important to have something to back it up.

I see. But you are a hard worker and perhaps you were born with that kind of frame of mind.

(Laughs) I’m not a hard worker, I’m just having fun. I call it research and development, but all I’m doing is moving my hands. I’m not using my brain all that much either. Everyone tries to think with their head but if you keep your hands moving, then they’ll discover and think it all for you. It’s so easy. What’s more, sake koji mold is really hardworking and once I put them in the tank, they do the job for you. There is nothing more beautiful than that. (laughs)

Um, there is an indescribable depth to your words…. I’m starting to see why people in Ikazaki were saying that they feel manipulated by you.

I’m not manipulating anyone or anything. But then most Japanese people don’t follow things up as much as they should so words are lost on each other even though we are speaking the same language. For instance, if someone gets angry and tries to leave the room, I say “Hey, wait, we have some sake here, why don’t you have a glass? Here’s a set of Hanafuda (Japanese playing cards) too.” That’s the kind of follow up you need. Communications are prone to get vague but maybe it’s all about confirming and not leaving things vague as they are.

By the way, we heard that you are also a facilitator in town-building amongst other things.

I have participated in activities to preserve the scenery of the Oda River. That was fun. The prefecture is efficiency-oriented so they destroy the nature and try to do major bank protection works using concrete. I thought that wasn’t good so I went along to the prefectural government but they flatly refused to listen and wouldn’t even give me the time of the day. So I made the next move and started paying visits to ministry offices in Kasumigaseki. I travelled back and forth on Shinkansen week after week. Then I was able to meet a bureaucrat from the River Bureau of the Construction Ministry and as I kept bringing him things like my sake and daikon radish from my field, we eventually became friends. He said “Mr. Kame, I want to see the Oda River in Ikazaki with my own eyes” and came all the way down here. The officials from the prefecture were in such a panic. They quickly changed their attitude and gave us an almost red-carpet welcome. (laughs)

I suppose bank protection works are strange things, meaning, they destroy the scenery for disasters that rarely happen. And what happened after that?

Eventually, it was decided that the “Neo-Natural River Reconstruction Method” (a method that takes the natural scenery of the river into account) developed in Switzerland should be introduced for the first time in Japan. And a couple of years after that, the Construction Ministry has issued instructions for the prefectural governments across Japan to introduce the method too. Well, for someone like me, who adores Che Guevara and empathises with him, it feels great to be able to do something like that. Empathising might be a talent of a sort, actually.

That’s really amazing. You effectively changed the entire river projects in Japan! What’s the secret of your so-called black magic?

One, people should not be trusted, but loved. Two, there is no such thing as a majority decision – always forward with your own strength. Three, do not have such delusion that people can be persuaded by words. Four, life, money, status and honour are all mere stage props; there is no need for them if there is no drama to be performed on stage.

This neighborhood still has a lot of character. It’s nice. Were you born here?

Yes, I was. I was born in Arakawa-ku (in 1947) and raised here too. It used to be all craftsmen living around here. My father was a craftsman. He used to make the necks for shamisen.

So with shamisen craftspeople the work is divided up then, is it? Do you have a specialty, Mr. Katoh?

I’m a hide stretcher. My father told me, “The people stretching the hides make good money, so you should become a hide stretcher.” So when I graduated from junior high school, I began my apprenticeship under a hide stretcher. (laughs)

You started working as a craftsman straight out of junior high school. I can’t even imagine that.

I was fifteen, so I didn’t even really think about it. I just became a craftsman. Every day, learning new techniques, that was my job.

It must have been really tough.

Oh, but I was really lucky because the place I was apprenticing at had a lot of books. The first book I read there was Hesse’s Beneath the Wheel. My world opened up and I began to think about a lot of things. “Well, am I going to continue like this, as a mere shamisen hide stretcher, for the rest of my life?” and other things like that. And that was when I decided to work as a craftsman while going to night school.

Is that right? Speaking of which, how many years did you spend apprenticing to be a craftsman?

Seven years. After I finished, I was twenty-two years old and I set out on a trip. For two years, I hitch-hiked and slept outside, walking all over Japan. I didn’t have any money, so sometimes I took on temporary jobs that included room and board, and just travelled around at my own whim. If I saw a beautiful sunset somewhere, I’d say to myself, “Alright, I’ll camp here for the night.” It was that kind of trip. You could say I was a certain type of idiot. (laughs) But at that time, there were lots of people in Japan that we called the “kani-zoku.”

Kani-zoku? What’s that?

In the 1960s and 70s, people would carry 30 kilo packs on their backs and take off on long journeys without any money. Those two years I spent travelling, that was wasted time. But it was my “precious wasted time,” I suppose you could say. (laughs) I don’t know how it’s helping me, but those two years of experiences are stored away, and they’ve had a big influence on my life since then.

I see. You’re a shamisen maker, but there’s a certain rock’n’roll sense of freedom in your workshop. That could be where it comes from. I wonder if that helped give you the inspiration to make an electric shamisen?

In all actuality, I really don’t know. The electric shamisen itself
was originally made after I saw a musician playing a shamisen in a live concert. He was performing with a stand mic, but the shamisen was drowned out by the sounds of the other instruments. I started thinking about how to fix that problem, and began doing research and
development on an electric shamisen. That was back when I’d just started this shop, in 1989.

Did you want to take that beautiful natural shamisen sound and change it to an electric sound?

That’s not quite it. Actually, the truth is I wanted to take the natural sound and make it beautiful by using electricity. I mean, the guitar, the bass, the drums, if you want to go on stage with modern instruments like that you’ve normally got to play into a stand mic, and it’s very hard to hear the shamisen.

What do you mean exactly?

All the stand mic picks up are the attack notes and all of the lingering tones are lost. The other instruments use a line to pick up the sound, and drums are loud to begin with. He wanted to play on stage with those instruments, and in order to be heard, he had to use an electric line. That’s why the original point of making an electric shamisen wasn’t to create an unusual sound, but to accurately reproduce the beautiful and subtle tones of the shamisen. We went through a lot of trial and error to make it, but thanks to our hard work, our shamisen have shared a stage with the famous taiko drummer Eitetsu Hayashi.

Wow, is that right! That’s kind of revolutionary, isn’t it?

In one way, we just connected tradition with the future. Even so, “Shamisen, for the next millenium!” was the last thing on our minds. (laughs) Even so, I like to do futuristic stuff for my own enjoyment.

I see. “Futuristic stuff.” I think I get what you’re talking about.

For example, the shamisen concert advertised on this poster. This is the kind of futuristic stuff I’m trying out. The performers are really famous. Hiromitsu Agatsuma, he’s famous, right? And how about Shinichi Kinoshita and Hidetaro Honjo? I’m talking about the A-list of the shamisen world here.

Mr. Katoh, are you the promoter behind this star-studded event? I don’t mean to be rude, but craftspeople don’t usually go arranging concerts…

Yes. There’s no direct connection between the events and my business, and my wife is always saying, “Maybe it’s time you stopped?” (laughs) But really, I belonged to a theater company when I was younger, and I’m used to stage work. I used to act when I wasn’t working. That experience is serving me well now. Also, the participants are all customers of mine.

I see… It really is worthwhile to pursue things outside your regular career, isn’t it? You really are a rock’n’roll kind of guy. And on top of that, you make musical instruments that can make a sound that satisfies the top musicians. I just thought you had an interesting product and came to see you, but I clearly underestimated you! I’m very sorry.

Well, I’m good at just going with the flow. I don’t think, I just do what’s necessary in each situation, trying things out in the field, and using the results of that in my work. Years of repeating that work style has taken me to where I am now. In that sense, I think my young years travelling as a kani-zoku have served me well. (laughs)

I think that’s a really wonderful, happy thing!

Oh, I think you’re right. People who have everything but don’t know what they want to do in life must lead a pretty boring existence. Even in a tough, poor environment, if you know what you should do, if you manage to find a dream, you’re going to be a happy man. Making things I can get excited about and putting on stages is what does it for me. But, I pay for it. After an event is over is the toughest… Last year, the day after the concert I couldn’t even climb the stairs in the subway station I was so burned out. (laughs)

This workshop really is deep in the mountains, isn’t it?

Goto: We moved here fifteen years ago. This place was built about seventy years ago. It’s old but it’s home and a good place for making guitars, too. When you’re making musical instruments, you can’t help making a bit of noise, and here we don’t have to worry about the neighbors.

It’s just the two of you making guitars, and I heard you even sell them overseas…

Goto: Yes. I do the woodworking and put them together, and Oda does the finishing. Electric guitars were originally a mass-produced, American product. They can’t easily be produced in a small workshop like acoustic guitars are. So in that way, it’s very unusual that we are able to do what we do. (laughs)

It must be hard to make a living as a guitar maker?

Goto: Oh, I don’t know if we’re really making a living, even now. Recently I’ve gotten used to living without any cash. (laughs) We originally started out on one hand doing guitar repairs, while making guitars the rest of the time. But when I was thirty (in 2000), I decided, “I’ll quit doing repairs, and make a living from making guitars as my works of art!” Since then, I’ve been focusing mainly on manufacturing guitars.

What do you mean by “Making guitars as your works of art?”

Goto: Just as an artist paints pictures, and a musician writes songs, I make and sell guitars as my art. We put creation first, and we make our guitars so that they can be used and loved for a hundred years. We make “hundred year guitars.” That was a conscious decision of mine.

So, you could say you’re headed in the exact opposite direction of mass produced products.

Goto: Yes. Regular electric guitars are made with one model and a bunch of variations, and musicians chose which one they’ll use. Then, fans of that musician want that same model, and the guitars sell. That’s the basic sales pattern. We decided to avoid that style, and just make what we like, in the best way possible.

Just because you’ve decided that, can you really make a living creating these works of art?

Goto: At first, we borrowed a corner of a musical instrument shop and sold our guitars there. But, we had to make flyers and promotional goods, and our work outside actually making guitars grew so much that we got tired. It was then that a friend suggested we make a website. And I thought, “If it will help our business, then let’s try it out.” And we made a site. But we just made it in English only.

Why only an English site?

Goto: The reason I started making guitars was because of western music. My dream was to have my guitars accepted in the United States. I figured this was a good first step to achieving that. And then, I was contacted by a dealer in the States who said, “We want to sell your products.” And right away, I deleted the part on the website that said “contact.” (laughs) It’s just too much trouble.

What, really? If it was me, I’d get excited and start grabbing any chance I got…

Goto: Yeah. I got one business contact in America and I thought, well, that’s enough. That one dealer who contacted me is the same age as I am. We really get along, and he’s still my only contact over there. He handles worldwide distribution for us. We only really want to do business with people we know, people we can trust.

That way of working, it’s really wonderful.

Goto: That’s why, right now, we’re happy just making guitars. Having someone in the middle like this, so our works of art can be bought up by Americans that we never see, it’s very nice. On top of that, he set up a booth for our products at NAMM, the world’s biggest musical instrument show. All our guitars got bought up, and a certain rock guitarist that I admire bought one of our products. I really feel that we were lucky to have met someone who helped bring our products to such a level.

How about you, Ms. Oda, what are your feelings about working with Goto on this?

Oda: Originally, I started on this path because of my love for music. When I graduated from high school, I entered a guitar-making school, and Goto was my teacher. Goto was impressed with my color sense, so he asked if I wanted to work together with him.

Eighteen years ago. Goto, you would have been twenty one at that time?

Goto: Yes. Just then, I had completed a job for 150,000 yen, and I had that much in cash on me. So, I said to Oda. “I’ve got 150,000 yen here. With that much money, we can go independent. Let’s open an electric guitar studio.” (laughs)

And Oda, you went along with it.

Oda: I’m even more easygoing than Goto is. He told me his idea, and I just thought, “Oh, OK. If he says it’ll be alright, then I guess it’ll work out.” And we started a little live-in studio, and now eighteen years have gone by. Even now, the three of us, myself, Goto, and his wife are still living together here.

I see. You’ve lived a life I can’t even imagine. Now, finally, this is a magazine about “monozukuri” (the art of making things), so could you leave us with a word about monozukuri?

Goto: I’m making things by hand, but I don’t think that putting love into every step of my manufacturing process is the way to make sure something good is made. I love U2’s Joshua Tree album, but it’s just a plastic disk. That plastic disk is mass manufactured by a machine, and you know there hasn’t been any love put into making it. But that album is full of love. That’s why I think that what is inside is what counts. Take Apple Computer, for example. They put so much care into their designs, and I feel love from that. But the computer itself is just a thing. Our guitars are the same in that they’re just things. But we can design a form that makes the person holding it look cool, we can make it produce a good sound, and make it smooth to the touch. I put love into that stuff. That’s what I think is important.

At Jersey Girl Homemade Guitars