CNC machines (which stands for Computer Numerical Control, interestingly), have changed the game in guitar building, and we’re not going to pretend they haven’t. CNC routers can carve necks and bodies with staggering precision, day in, day out, without needing a lunch break or ever feeling a bit tired from last night’s gig or apparently ‘having a cold’. In large-scale factories – the mega-plants producing generic budget guitars by the tens of thousands every month – automation rules. Wood goes in, guitars come out. Quick, consistent, and cheap. 

We understand that for mass-market instruments, it does make a lot of sense. Students, beginners, and casual players don’t always need or want a hand-crafted instrument. They want something affordable that looks nice enough and broadly stays in tune. And that’s fine.  

Of course, using CNC machines is not inherently bad. Not at all. In fact, many premium workshops like ours and even in the very highest-end of guitar workshops, CNC machines are used as tools. But they’re not the masters. Used thoughtfully, CNC machines handle the rough cuts and critical dimensions, freeing up human hands to focus on the real artistry: shaping, voicing, bracing, finishing. 

Then there’s an even lower end of the machine-driven spectrum: the ultra-low-cost factories. These often aren’t fully automated, but rather they’re often staffed by workers with minimal training, doing repetitive tasks on a production line, without a true understanding of what they’re building. It’s more like assembling furniture than crafting instruments. 

The results? A guitar looking object. The braces are glued in without regard for tonal response; the necks are shaped with a generic flick of sandpaper, without understanding how a neck should feel under the hand; the finishes are thick and dark as they hide more than they reveal. These guitars are (often very) cheap for a reason. 

And that’s fine in some ways, as it can help people get into guitar playing for a minimal cost.  But it’s not what we do at Faith, and we’re proud of that.  

When a skilled luthier shapes a neck, they're not just following measurements – they’re feeling the wood, adjusting on the fly, knowing where to leave a little more meat for strength or taper it for comfort. When braces are voiced by ear, and tops tapped for resonance, you’re into the territory of, dare we say, art, not just pure manufacturing.  

That matters. Because an acoustic guitar isn’t just a wooden box with strings. It’s an instrument with personality, resonance and dynamics. You can feel when it’s been made with care. You can hear it too. 

We know this intuitively in other areas of life too. A loaf of white bread from a supermarket factory line will fill a hole and stop hunger, (and forgive us for getting a little gentrified here) but when compared to a hand-kneaded sourdough from the local bakery, there really is no competition. One is a mechanism useful in a worst-case scenario, and the other was made with intention and delivers a hundred times more pleasure.  

Same with furniture. There’s a reason we’ll pay more for a hand-finished oak table than one flat-packed from particle board. Or clothes – think of the difference between a tailored jacket and one from Primark. Both have a place and a purpose, but there is no doubting that craftsmanship signals quality, care, and interestingly, also uniqueness. 

It’s not about price or snobbery. It’s about knowing inherent quality and the knowledge that you own something over which another human spent loving time.  

At Faith guitars, we don’t reject technology. We use it where it helps – where it ensures precision or consistency without stripping away the soul of the instrument. But the heart of our process is still human. 

Our team in Indonesia are experienced craftspeople. Many of them have been in the workshops for many years, developing not just skill but a deep understanding of what makes a Faith guitar sound and feel special. They carve, sand, brace, and finish every guitar by hand. It’s not a production line – it really is a workshop. 

That means each guitar is subtly unique. Not wildly different – we have specs and QC, of course – but each is alive with the tiny variations that only a person can create. That’s part of the charm. And part of the sound. 

CNC machines and factory production have their place. They make guitars affordable and accessible to millions of people, and on a societal level, more music is always a good thing! And let’s not forget, not all hand-made guitars are good either – plenty of pretty suspect instruments have emerged from sheds and backrooms over the years. 

But when skilled people are allowed to work with good tools, good wood, and enough time to do the job properly – that’s where the magic happens. Machines can copy. People can create. 

And that, really, is why handmade guitars still matter.  

A Faith guitar doesn’t roll off a conveyor belt. It’s crafted. Considered. It might not be the cheapest guitar on the wall, and we can’t create the volume of a large factory either, but once you pick up a Faith and play it, you’ll understand why. 

Because you don’t just hear the difference. You feel it.