Sculpting rhythm: Story of the Lexus LFA
- Renesa SVNIT
- Jun 14
- 5 min read
Written by Anantha Narayanan

A sunny day, in the late 1990s, set the stage for the most consequential boardroom discussion the Toyota Motor Corporation (TMC) would have in its contemporary history. Filled with 100 top-level executives, this room would make a decision that could shape the destiny of a brand, spring a nation onto the centre stage, and perhaps derail an entire automotive segment.
But, this clock ticks back to the 80s, when the seeds of this forest were first planted.
The creation of LEXUS
By the 70s, Toyota established itself as a reliable and fuel-efficient carmaker in the US, surpassing Volkswagen. But Eiji Toyoda, then President of the Toyota Motor Corporation, sought more. This visionary intended to take on the German giants.
He would forge opulence that far outweighed anything on the road.
Thus, TMC’s top-secret project, F1 — Flagship Number 1, was set off, paving the way for Lexus, a brand named as an acronym for ‘Luxury Export to the US — LEXUS’.
One of the project’s investments was the Shibetsu Proving Ground — the Nürburgring of the east. This racecourse on Japan’s north island of Hokkaido was paramount in shaping the LEXUS Legacy.
Early History of Lexus
The ’89 Detroit Auto Show unveiled Project F1. Its creation, the LS 400, marked Toyota’s ambitious entry into the luxury segment. This flagship was the pinnacle of technological and engineering excellence. It redefined the industry with unparalleled quietness, comfort, and advanced technology, disrupting German dominance. The engineers pushed the limits of testing on the Shibetsu track.
In the midst of another of these gruelling testing sessions -
Haruhiko Tanahashi, creator of the Celica GT-4, shared his vision of a supercar fit for these tracks with his colleagues. A skunkworks team was born — sketching designs on napkins. With the concept still unofficial, Tanahashi approached TMC’s chief test driver and engineer Hiromu Naruse for guidance. An enthusiastic Naruse knew the uphill battle ahead. The board, focussed on volumetric productions, was unlikely to have an appetite for a high-cost one-off supercar with unique components. So, to have a chance at convincing the board, Naruse suggested his protégé — Akio Toyoda.
Akio Toyoda and the start of the plan
Akio Toyoda, a member of the Toyoda family, was never trained as an engineer. Unlike his father and grandfather, he was a businessman with a master’s degree in business. A car enthusiast of the modern era by heart, his opinion was widely respected. In addition, Naruse knew from mentoring Akio that he not only possessed a world-class business brain but was skilled at the wheel too.
If anyone was capable of understanding the concept, it was him.
Yet, uncertainty prevailed about this intriguing prospect fitting into the corporation’s commercial line-up. So, the trio took turns behind the wheels of various supercars to understand what made them so ‘super’.
Making this supercar work with everything else was not enough!
“Perhaps this is the secret sauce flavouring every car,” Akio reasoned.
A halo project like this could influence the brand entirely.
Although Lexus went international in 1987, its vehicles were sold under a different name in Japan. When the board finally decided to bring Lexus to the domestic market, Akio saw a golden opportunity — a chance to propose a daring vision. His idea? A sporting flagship that would not just join the supercar segment but redefine it altogether.
The proposal found scant backing. Even engineers wanted it to stop, citing exorbitant costs, massive resource demand, and the development of bespoke components. Yet, that faint glimmer of positivity gleamed. On that day in the late 1990s, the board approved the project but restricted it to just 500 units!
Although disappointing to some, Tanahashi saw the 500 units as exclusivity. They were formulas for success in Ferraris, Bugattis, and some Toyotas too!
The LFA brews!
The Lexus LFA was no ordinary supercar. It was conceived on the racetrack — a mechanical unit of raw and untamed essence, feral by nature. Naruse strongly believed that great cars were developed through racing, the ultimate stage being the German Nürburgring Nordschleife circuit. “Why don't people feel anything when they think of Lexus?”
This question swept across the team like a revving engine in dead silence. They needed more — a machine that screamed louder than doubt. One that would not just be fast, but alive!
When Tanahashi took the reins for this all-out project, he knew this wouldn't be straightforward. Lexus didn’t have the racing pedigree of Ferrari or Porsche. They had neither a lineage of racing icons nor supercar blueprints stowed away in dusty archives. All they had was the determination of the most prestigious engineers the world had to offer.
The car had to be fast — blisteringly so. But speed wasn’t enough, it required a heart, a soul that charms its driver. And most importantly, a voice — a voice that would linger in the hearts of enthusiasts for generations.
An audacious decision was taken!
Lexus would build a state-of-the-art engine. A naturally aspirated, front mid-engine mounted, rear train driven spectacle, designed to be compared to not Ferraris V12 or Alfas V6, but that of Formula 1s’ — a testament to the artistry of engineering.
The V10 was the perfect choice, a pristine blend of the high-revving V8 and the all-powerful V12. They built an instrument of emotion for an engine. Every detail was scrutinized, every component refined. The block, forged from aluminium and magnesium, kept the weight featherlight. The titanium connecting rods, forged pistons, and dry-sump lubrication system allowed the engine to rev at lightning speed. An engine so fast, that the analogue tachometer couldn't keep up and had to be digitized. A V10 engine the size of a V8, weighing that of a mere V6.
And then there was the sound. Oh, the sound.
Tanahashi wanted more. Enter Yamaha music division, the creators of grand pianos and pioneers in the acoustic instrument industry. They had one job.
“The engine should roar!”
Yamaha opened up the acoustics. They didn't tweak the exhaust note — they sculpted it. The sound wasn't just loud but orchestrated. Every rev, every throttle blip was meticulously tuned. The result — an auditory signature unlike any other in existence. Every press of the accelerator met a crescendo, an entire sonata, only to peak at a high-pitched, melodic scream at a raging 9000 RPM redline. With every combustion, it breathed fire, pulsing raw energy — a connection above mechanics, more than just sound, but the voice of liberation.
Freedom isn't just a concept, it's a feeling. The raw emotion of the roar of a sports car manifests the thrill of breaking free. With hands wrapped around the steering wheel and a voice ringing in your ears, the road becomes your canvas, and the engine hands you a brush dipped in speed and symphony. Every curve whispers precision. Every straight begs you to let the engine scream its tale, louder and longer. And in that brief moment beyond the redline, everything surrounding you fades, no world, no noise, no weight, no doubt, just a machine piercing space and time — the rumble of mechanical perfection echoing into eternity.
Referred to as the “Octave Harmony” Yamaha proudly displays the LFA exhaust module in its museum for music — Innovation Road.
14th of December. A week before Christmas 2012, the LFA rolled out of the production unit for one last time, the Nürburgring edition. The closing chapter for an embodiment of relentless pursuit of perfection — a masterpiece that could never be replicated.
“Maybe the LFA is just so perfect, not even the people who made it can make it again” — Jeremy Clarkson
The Shinto belief in renewing nature calls for rebuilding the Ise Shrine once every 20 years to pass on the skills to the next generation. This belief runs in the veins of the Toyota Motor Corporation.
In the 1960s we had the 2000GT.
In the 1980s, the Supra.
In the 2000s, the LFA.
It's now been twenty years…..
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