After years of gentle cajoling, a select few of the UK's music press finally coaxed a trip to the Land of the Rising Yen out of a major synth manufacturer. The company was Yamaha, the time was early May, the journey was exhilarating.

Initially, it seemed likely the Japanese industrial giant had invited us (plus a score of the country's leading musical instrument retailers) as part of a spectacular publicity exercise to promote another range of new gear. In the event, the new gear wasn't forthcoming, and Yamaha's people concentrated instead on wining and dining the assembled party to an outrageous degree, the intention being to extend a warm 'thank you' to the dealers and press men who had supported the company and its machines over the last few years.

Food and drink apart, the trip included visits to a number of Tokyo retail shops, and a quick tour round two production lines in the provincial town of Hamamatsu. The first line dealt with DX synthesisers, the second with acoustic grand pianos.

On entering the first building, I expected to see an army of industrial robots working on a network of conveyor belts similar to that shown in Nissan's current TV advertising campaign. How wrong I was.

Unbelievably, every rear-panel socket on a DX7 is drilled by hand, every key installed individually by the same method, and after assembly, every synth is tested with the help of an oscilloscope and an antiquated piece of (un)scientific equipment known as the human ear.

Above the DX line, large scoreboards show the staff's production targets for the day and how close they are to reaching them at any given time. If the targets aren't met at the end of the working day, the staff have to work unpaid overtime until they are — but such is the dedication and commitment of the workforce, that situation rarely occurs.

We were frogmarched rapidly past all this activity, but as we reached the halfway point of the building's production facility, the party came to a standstill. The rest of the line was being used to build new instruments, we were told, and we could go no further. No photography was allowed, either.

By contrast, piano production Yamaha-style is an extremely modern process in which automation and computer technology play a vital role. As vast eight-foot-six Joannas are transported automatically by unmanned trolleys from one part of the plant to another, a few highly skilled workers (none of whom looks as though they have been involved in making pianos for less than a decade) shape, fit, fine-tune and check the thousands of parts that go to make up each concert grand, each one supplied by a robot arm.

Again, the dedication of the workforce is obvious, and leads to an infectious enthusiasm not only for the pianos, but for music itself. As a company, Yamaha do much to ensure that their workers are as interested in music as the people who buy their products. Many of the staff attend Yamaha Music Schools, so the people who build the DXs have a genuine interest in the instruments that extends beyond the usual idea of 'doing a good job'.

In common with many other Japanese corporations, Yamaha also encourage their workers to comment on their products and the manner in which they are constructed. These comments are considered by the relevant parties at regular meetings, and where appropriate, changes are made swiftly.

But consulting a production workforce is one thing; asking the opinion of pro musicians is quite another. Like many of their competitors, Yamaha have been criticised in the past for not listening enough to the musicians who buy their instruments and use them every day.

To combat this, one of the above-mentioned retail stores is now equipped with a 24-track recording studio that's used by working musicians, and an R&D lab in which grievances are aired, instruments are compared, and modifications are made.

The system has obviously worked well, for while we were in Japan, Yamaha confirmed that three similar R&D operations would shortly be opening in London, Paris and New York.

The London setup is due to open this summer and will be located off Regent Street in the West End. It'll be a place where working musicians and recording engineers — whether resident in the capital or on tour there — can experiment with Yamaha's latest innovations in a musical context, and pass judgement on them.

Obviously, an R&D studio that incorporates the machines of only one manufacturer isn't going to answer every musician's prayers overnight. But it is a step in the right direction. Yamaha spoilt the DX7's ship for a ha'porth of tar when they omitted to backlight its all-important liquid crystal display. Yet it's taken three years of protest from the musicians' community to get the company to produce an expensive retrofit to cure the problem.

With R&D facilities like the one in Tokyo operating worldwide, that sort of thing should never happen again.