Richie Hawtin
RICHIE HAWTIN
A conversation with Richie Hawtin
Photographs & Interview by
Stefan Dotter
Production
WHITELIES STUDIO
Esconced within the heart of Berlin-Kreuzberg’s notorious Reichenberger Straße lies Sake 36 — a venture by techno legend Richie Hawtin, Maximilian Fritzsch and Laura Käding. Opened in summer 2020, its otherwordly interior transports us to a destination where perfect rows of Japanese saké bottles are care-fully filed away in refrigerated shelves. A tasting room features a long wooden table with DJ decks embedded seamlessly into it, along its length I see different types of saké cups or o-choko (猪口) on display — everything is ready to take us on a trip to the far East, without mo-ving an inch.
This space makes me feel at home; makes me feel like I am in Japan. A home away from home, at home. Richie tells me that he sees the tasting room as an extension of his living room. He would come here to have take-out dinners with his wife. A lot of him, a lot of them, is harmoniously distributed throughout. Richie serves a glass of sparkling saké — something I didn’t even know existed — and leans casually at the table whilst he begins weaves a dreamscape of mesmerising stories, reminding me of just how I became infatuated with Japan in the first place.
Stefan Dotter: I love that you have your turntables here, Richie.
Richie Hawtin: Yeah, that’s for the time when we’ll be able to do some more music-focused evenings.
SD: I believe for most of our readers it will come as a surprise that we are sitting down with you today to talk about saké. I think it would be a good idea to give us a brief history about your journey into the mystical world of Japanese Saké.
RH: I was infatuated with the idea of Japan long before I went there. It was a combination of growing up as a kid being drawn to electronics and science-fiction films like Blade Runner and dreaming what a futuristic, high-tech world would actually be like. So I was already delving into trying out Sushi or Teppanyaki places — even in Windsor, my little town in Canada. Another thing that connected me to Japan was naturally all the equipment and technology I was using in my music — especially Roland. Techno, instruments, Japanese corporations — actually, even the term “Japanese corporation” sounds more futuristic than an American counterpart. I don’t know why! I finally had a chance to go to Japan around 1993 to do a concert for Plastikman. I’m still like a little kid landing even now, as soon as you see Narita or the signs or whatever it’s like, “wow”. As soon as I got there I wanted to take in as much as I could, and that of course included eating and drinking my way through Shibuya and just trying to get a sense of the real authentic Japanese experience.
I really do have this memory of this quintessential moment which became just kind of a standard story of saké later on as I was learning about it. I sat there with a group of friends and promoters. They were excited that Plastikman was out, I was excited that I was in Japan — and then these big bottles of saké were coming out, at my request. They had asked what I wanted to drink, and I immediately asked for saké. We were all 20 year olds, it didn’t seem to be so normal for them to be enjoying saké. Normally they would be drinking beer or maybe a cocktail. We were then all drinking it — but they were drinking saké because I was drinking it.
You know how it is in Japan. Later I learned that saké was an old manʼs drink, the younger generation is uninterested. I still have this memory of these beautiful bottles coming out and just looking so foreign and alien. It just fit the whole picture. In that future there are lights everywhere, and there is Shibuya, and technology — I still believe to this day that everyone had cell phones that were smaller than anything we have here today. Everybody was on them and there were millions of people — it was just so bizarre and unfamiliar. The more we drank the saké, the more we channeled the vibe; the buzz of it. It was so refreshing. Was it the saké? Or was it the euphoria of being in Japan for the first time? I can’t determine but it was a beautiful little bubble.
SD: But that is the point, it all goes together. I feel like when you are telling this story and I look at the space you invented here — it makes me feel like you are aiming to recreate this exact evening for other people.
RH: Sure, the social warmth of saké is something absolutely beautiful. Thatʼs why we have these two sides of the table. People can be in small groups initially, but the saké warms the body and the soul and suddenly allows strangers to communicate. It brings a wonderful intoxication to the moment — intoxication about everything. Maybe that’s at the core of why I love it. Without wanting to jump into it too quickly, but that’s also why I think I always felt very early on this connection between saké and my music — bringing a crowd together, creating a vibe. Taking people on a journey and bringing them all together into sort of a warm headspace. Doesn’t matter if I play minimalistic, or techno, or hardcore. The vibe that you are bringing to the dance-floor is like a womb.
With Sake 36 we always had this vision of having a big table where little individual groups of people are scattered along the table and after having some saké five groups could merge into one. Because they are here for a similar thing, whether they know it or not. They came here to experience and learn about saké. In the end, they will be sucked into that bubble that we all love.
SD: I find it very intriguing how many layers your relationship with saké has. Drinking it together in Japan is a very special thing. Also, the tradition of always pouring each otherʼs glass. This ceremonial attitude creates so much of a bond.
RH: For sure. Here we have taken a contemporary approach to saké, we aren’t using as many o-choko (猪口) ceramics, we are using a little bit more glassware. But we haven’t gone straight to the wine-glass mentality of some other saké places — we want to find that balance of contemporary, while remembering where saké came from. One of the most important things we share with people when they come in is how you pour for each other and give them a little bit of that idea. Saké is a sensitive beverage, the way it is created, the way it is bottled. Kaze no Mori, we talked about them last time. Their bottling line is one of a kind. A little spelt comes into the bottle and lets the sake drip into the bottle and gradually comes up, so it’s never splashing down. Those are the secrets to keep effervescence and be soft to the saké, even at the bottling stage. This sensitive approach to producing saké is definitely key.
SD: Yes. Last time we talked about the parallels to wine. The process of winemaking changed a lot in the last centuries, so we see people yearning for natural wine now. How was it with saké, how did the process develop over the last generations of brewers?
RH: The saké weʼre drinking today is definitely a modern invention — it is still steeped in traditional methods but two key things happened in the ‘40s and ‘50s, which were milling and polishing. Those techniques allowed you to take the rice and to actually start milling it down to make this new higher calibre of saké — very fast forward, very elegant — called Daiginjo. Refrigeration allowed us to actually store these new types of fragile saké so that you could ship them and still have quality for the consumer at the end.
Before either of those, everything was kind of Junmai style — very rough. Those two technologies came hand in hand and suddenly, almost overnight, created a completely new experience. I don’t think this changed the feeling or vibe, which is as we say very important to us, rather the approach and the delicacy. It really elevated it to another level. Think about Enter Black, which is a Honjozo with some alcohol added. You get a bit of that nice texture and roughness at the back of the palette. Those innovations enabled saké to have a softer approach on the palette, on the nose, and even on the mindset of people. That’s in the ‘50s and ‘60s.
In the ‘70s came the big Daiginjo boom, where saké evolved once more in Japan and started to sweep over to America and probably Europe — there was this unforeseen level of sophistication. One of our big themes at Sake 36 is that we are bringing everything in cold containers from our breweries to the fridge downstairs, to preserve a repeatable experience. If someone takes out a bottle, we want it to taste like it tastes straight from the brewery. So when you send someone here and tell them to try “Pure” you are also confident that we will deliver the experience that you had. And that is something new for the international supply of saké.
SD: So I imagine you have very close relationships to the different brewers you work with?
RH: Direct relationships. We cultivated those relationships over the last ten years. My relationships, Max’s relationships and also Lauras’ — actually she first discovered “Pure”. It’s hard to have direct communication with the Japanese brewers. It has taken years for us to be allowed into the doors, and then even more time to actually be able to bring their saké over to Germany. In the past it has been a lot of these situations. Someone has a pipeline or a relationship and brings it over and then it’s sub-distributed — but the more middle men there are, the more room there is for failure in the supply chain and quality control. There are a lot of things you need to balance. Our business and emotional concept is to only feature saké that we have a strong relationship to and where we can control that whole pipeline, so we can represent all brewers we work with, and every different type of saké in order to best represent them.
SD: How is the brewer landscape, is it diverse? I know there are new generations of brewers coming in and taking over now.
RH: Yes, there are a good 1.200 brewers out there. I would say it’s very diverse. In profile, in region, philosophy, age of the people who are running it... There are still some amazing brewmasters in their 80s who maintain control of their saké, and then on the other hand, now there are also 20-year-olds. The other thing you are seeing, especially in the last ten years, is that much more women are being invited and allowed into the brewing process. There are now a range of women in the position of Toji (杜氏) and that is a new level equality and openness, especially in contemporary breweries.
We can try the Enter Heiwa, it’s a Junmai, I was working in that brewery. They have an open book policy with the old system of Toji serving as brewmaster but having his files and graphs and fermentation charts accessible to anyone who works at the brewery. Everyone can learn and has the potential to become Toji at some point in their career. Every year each of the Kurabito (蔵人), the workers, gets a tank to actually experiment on. Afterwards they release that into the local area to celebrate the different brews. At this brewery 25% of the workers were women. My partner was a woman, she had her masters in literature. Then she fell in love with saké and decided to give up that dream and come to work in a brewery. It’s hard, hard work. There is no easy way to make top quality saké.
SD: You already briefly touched the topic of “Enter Sake”, you have your own brand. What’s the concept, do you collaborate with breweries to create your saké?
RH: So 1994-1999 saw me going back and forth to Japan a lot, doing my gigs, drinking mainly on a consumer level; it is the perfect social lubricator for meeting new friends. Then, in the early 2000s somehow it just progressed to another level. I started working with a new promoter — Yuki Ito — who got interested and excited about the world of saké and his cultural heritage, via my passion for it. He helped unlock doors to go to some breweries, and when we were touring he would find places to do gigs, that were close to breweries. From that point on all of my travels to Japan started to become music gigs that connected with that world. I remember the night, I was in an Onsen (温泉) in Hokkaido with Yuki and two friends from Berlin, we snuck in there after hours, because one was a girl and we were not supposed to mix. As we were sitting there, drinking saké, they told me like you gotta do this. And I said yes, I will open a saké bar in Berlin. I’m gonna do some more education and then dive in.
So in 2007 I took a class in Japan, which was the only place where you could learn about saké in English. So the question that moved us was: how do we get the younger generations in Japan and the rest of the world interested to see saké as something they feel connected to? It was like 30 of us in the class — mostly sommeliers, so I felt really out of place. But when the teacher talked about that, I thought: I know I love saké, I know that it brings people together and that I love drinking it when playing music and, somehow, this all feels right to me. If I can replicate that sensation and bring it to some of my fans around the world then maybe I’m the one in this classroom who has the most direct access to young people in the context of where they’re looking for something to drink, to feel good and celebrate. That was when it shifted from having a saké bar to thoughts about bringing it together with music and clubbing. That was the inkling of the idea that developed into Enter Sake.
SD: Then you took it to Ibiza, right?
RH: Exactly. That’s also why it is called Enter, it did get connected to these Enter parties we started to do in Ibiza. Where we had a weekly night, we were taking over the whole club one area was techno, one area was house, and in the back there is a little bar that no one knew what to do what. So I said okay this is it. This is the Enter Sake bar. The whole concept of the event was welcoming people into the world of Richie Hawtin. What artists would I play, what musicians do I like and... what would I drink. Take a step in. The idea was to invite people into our collection and, if they really like it, we are just the gateway. Come in and we will send you on your way. Take an Enter Heiwa, Heiwa being the name of the brewery, and if you like it go on and figure out what else they make. And that’s the start of Sake 36. We see people coming in and often they go straight to Enter and stay there. But finally we have a space to take them beyond what Enter has to offer. Maybe they go to Japan, or study, or something. There was no masterplan. All the things I do as a musician, as a creative, you feel something, there is an inspiration and you are like — I gotta do something, I gotta make a song! You take the idea, the idea takes you and this is how it works. This is how life develops.
SD: Exactly — this is how you make art. It makes sense, however, that people would go straight to Enter, because it is a gateway. The access is easier, even through the design, people usually don’t know what saké to buy, they can’t read the label. So we always choose what looks best.
RH: We all do that. With Enter, the name, the design, it was all based on all my years in the music industry. Like going to a record store in the old days: unless you know you are looking for the latest Grimes or Joey Beltram or Plastikman, you would be like “that looks cool” — let me listen to that. As an artist I was always thinking about it; if a fan walks into a vinyl shop how do I get their attention when they have no idea of what the record sounds like. So, let me make it aesthetically communicate the ideas I’m trying to convey within the music. That really came down to the straight forward dot — a welcome to the world. A circle. An entry point. The very basic idea of black silver and gold. Being able to remember and recommend and have repeat experiences. If you can’t go back to your saké bar a few months later and be like “I think it was a silver dot”, then you must have been really drunk.
SD: It’s very true, very smart. What’s your most precious memory of your personal journey within the world of saké?
RH: I think in 2015 I was awarded the title of Sake Samurai. It’s from a government body, but run by the saké association — that award goes to anyone within the industry who is helping to promote saké and Japanese culture. We received this award in Kyoto at one of the shrines, it’s actually the shrine of saké. At some point we would go into the private parts of the shrine. Some words were said and we had to share some saké. It was really a moment where I knew I had been given a respectful inclusion into the world of saké — that I was now in it for the rest of my life.
SD: That sounds magical.
RH: It was crazy — it was one of those moments: ‘how the hell did I end up here?’
SD: That’s a wonderful conclusion to a wonderful interview. But I feel like there is so much more on your mind.
RH: One thing I also love about the saké industry, especially when you have these direct relationships with the owners and the Toji. Quite often now the owner is the brewmaster, this is one of the more modern developments. Generally, the breweries were family-owned and they would hire someone to brew, so owner and brewer were two different things.
Those two positions becoming one has been a big change in the world of saké — now the person who is thinking about marketing and taking a trip around the world to gather inspiration is actually coming back and using all that to create the product they want to create. It used to be more like the owner coming back and saying “I was in France and I was drinking this wine, maybe you should make something like a Chardonnay.” I don’t know if that’s ever happened, just as a hypothetical example. That has been one of the most innovative developments in saké in the last 15 years. I mention that, as, one of my fascinations with and connections to the world of saké is being directly in communication with these Toji and just having incredible discussions and having inspiring thinktanks of ideas. In the end our discussions are just about creativity. The kind of interplay of technology and intuition and timing. You can just go in there and listen in and change a couple of the words — I’m talking about music and they are talking about saké, but at the end of the day we are all talking about the same thing: innovative ideas.
I think those relationships with other creators, especially coming from a different viewpoint, are really inspiring to me. I just finished a project with Prada, working directly with Raf Simons and indirectly with Miuccia Prada. Why I also enjoy this kind of collaboration is because again, you end up talking about aesthetics, you just communicate it through a different medium.
SD: Absolutely, within similar set limitations and boundaries. When Raf Simons goes to Prada, he is going to do his own thing, but he will be creating within the world of Prada. I think this is always very interesting, when artists have to create new work within different boundaries.
RH: Sorry, I got a little off track there.
SD: I don’t think that’s unrelated at all; as we said, everything is part of the same story, that’s the beauty of it. And that’s the beauty of when I hear you talking about saké — because to you it is about everything. It’s not just about a drink. It’s a “meta” thing — everything arrives at its conclusion there for you.
RH: We talked a lot about that when we were starting Sake 36. Originally we had it like “invitation only”, you had to sign up long before and make a reservation. That changed a bit due to COVID. But we wanted to make it a place where even people who don’t know each other could feel at home by the time they’re sitting down. But in the end saké is such a special and individual experience. The people who end up here are those people anyway. You don’t have to make it hard or put too many barriers — the people who find it, find it.
Even if one comes in with a little bit more knowledge than the other, or one veers toward a sweeter style, at the end the conversations jell together and become harmonious. That is a great word. That’s the feeling that saké gives people, it’s social contribution is one of harmony.
SD: Thatʼs very Japanese some might say. Balance and harmony.
RH: Yeah, a hundred percent. It’s incredible to think that that comes from rice, technology and different techniques. The pureness of the Japanese culture and the sensibility is transmitted through the end result of enjoying saké. It’s mind-blowing.
SD: For sure, and as we discussed, our inability to travel means there are many landlocked Japan enthusiasts out there right now. Even just sipping saké is an easy way to get the mind travelling, that’s why I think there is such a momentum with these things. This humble appreciation is one approach to connecting cultures during a crisis.
RH: Yes, and people cherish them and actually take them in deeper. Now, we are not taking everything as for granted as we once were.