Behind the green door of his workshop, in front of the hall of bad art, Jamie Kinscherff makes guitars you're kind of afraid to touch. Gleaming pieces of wood seamlessly come together, deep deep browns and mellow yellows, a long graceful neck, and precision inlay so fine you're squinting and bringing your clumsy old self in closer to inspect, a little too close probably. You try not to breathe. Because it is a work in progress, and Jamie's sort of fluttering around, nervous himself, even if he's built hundreds of guitars, could probably do it in his sleep. Not that he'd risk it, though, not with one of his babies. Here is a man, after all, who was a boy buying guitars from pawn shops to fix up, and a newcomer to the guitar business way back in 1978. Skinny, pony-tailed, Jamie Kinscherff, whose love for guitars has kept him at it all this time, who talks about money constantly because he's never had any until recently. Word of mouth via the Internet, these days, he has customers from all over the world. And he makes instruments, when you finally bring yourself to try, that sing under the hands, even yours.
