Why do the Japanese Like Karaoke so Much? (Part 2)

( “Shibuya Nights” by WasabiNoise )

To recap, Part One was about Bill Kelly’s outlining and debunking of common theories of why karaoke is so popular in Japan, and this post will be about his own theory. New readers, please read that first; everybody else, let’s jump straight in.

The Agony and the Ecstasy

To Kelly, one of the defining features of karaoke is the solo performance. That is less of a no-brainer than it sounds: usually descriptions of karaoke, including my first post probably, (over)emphasize the group aspects of it, but when all is said and done it’s really just one guy or girl singing in front of others. Unlike most other forms of entertainment though, especially karaoke as it’s performed in counties like England, it’s amazing how few participants in Japan actually do want to sing, and I don’t mean in the sense that they’d rather be at home with their families (although that’s true too). Consider this:

…it is no easy thing to stand before a group and sing. Trembling hands, shaking voices, and nervous faces reveal the stress many experience at the moment they are selected. (p.80)

Despite the impression I may give, I’m not against karaoke and/or singing per se. Actually I sing around the house all the time, albeit usually rude versions of the children’s songs I have to entertain my daughter with, and would go to a song room (노래방) myself every once in a while if they had a wider selection of songs and if could find a babysitter. But I’d be going alone, for I simply suck. But at what I termed the “salaryman karaoke” sessions however, that wouldn’t matter, for:

…regardless of the performance quality, participants are invariably met with a sympathetic and encouraging response from others in the group for their efforts.

And:

When the ordeal is over, it is normal for the performer to experience a rush of relief and a feeling of gratitude to the others for their help. From that point…he is deep into the group emotionally, for he has revealed his humanity and been accepted by the others…

( Photo by Dave77459 )

So it’s not really about singing, and in this form, was it ever really? What was the purpose then? Here is another paragraph of Kelly’s that really does need to be quoted in its entirety:

The willingness of an individual to perform in turn despite a reluctance, or even an abhorrence of doing so, is an indication of his or her dedication and commitment to the goals and aims of the collective whole. The solo performance within this context is an implicit acknowledgement by the performer that the objectives to the collectivity, and the relationships upon which achieving those objectives depend, transcend personal fears and insecurities with respect to singing. Through singing, the individual expresses to others in his or her circle that they are people – not individually, but collectively – among whom personal sacrifices can (and must) be made, and individual weaknesses exposed.

Karaoke as a Discipline

( “The monk in the city” by manganite )

That paragraph speaks for itself, but despite the corporatist and borg-like overtones, in many ways the actual process of karaoke is quite meritocratic:

An activity in which all can participate, karaoke is perhaps more vitally one in which all participants can improve their performance. An important aspect of the solo performance is the implicit expectation that some degree or preparation and effort will be invested by the performer into polishing his or her act.

Whereas a good voice and/or talent is usually required for the amateur singing contests that karaoke most usually is in Western countries, in this form of it all participants are given opportunities to do their best regardless of their ability, a lot of patience and encouragement along the way, and, given that it’s a regular and predictable part of salaryman life, the chance beforehand to memorize, develop and ultimately master a repertoire of songs that can be relied upon for most karaoke sessions.

In short, there’s a “way”, a correct and proper method of doing things and, not by coincidence, the Japanese word for that (do, pronounced like a short, sharp “dough”), is exactly the same as the Korean one, for both are based on the same Chinese character 道 meaning way, principle, or province. Hence you have judo, kendo and shodo(calligraphy) in Japanese, and dodeok (도덕)/morality, hyodo (효도)/filial duty, gisado (기사도)/knighthood or chivalry, and of course taekwondo in Korean. Bill Kelly himself links it to more austere and esoteric disciplines such as tea-drinking ceremonies, of mastering of which is also open to all regardless of class, status or gender. This implies:

…that there exists a way of performing the everyday and the mundane – preparing and drinking tea or singing karaoke – which reflects a “cult founded on the adoration of the beautiful among the sordid facts of everyday existence”.

However:

This is not to suggest that karaoke should be conceived as or categorized with more traditional arts, and most Japanese certainly would not equate the two, but rather to emphasize that the practice or use of karaoke in Japan, like [what has been written about] the practice of other recent or imported activities such as baseball and tennis. is colored by the same aesthetic and philosophical principles with are the essence of the traditional arts. (p. 82)

Accordingly, however frivolous it may appear to Western observers, karaoke is taken very seriously in Japan and Korea, and writing in 1998, Bill Kelly says that there was a whole industry of books, magazines, television programs and so forth to help people master it. Can older readers confirm that? How about Korea? In the latter’s case, I think I would have noticed at least some of the paraphernalia of it by now, but haven’t at all. Is that because I came in 2000, just as Korea began its decade-long process of losing virtually all of its salarymen?, something Japan has also been doing, albeit more gradually? Regardless, I think that it’s not taken quite so seriously in both countries now, primarily because this previously dominant salaryman form of it has been superseded by technology and generational change.

( Photo by Bruno Quinquet )

The Whitening of Karaoke’s Reputation

With a blog like mine, I’m always sensitive to the charge that I’m over-analyzing things, and many readers make think that the karaoke described in this post and the last is nothing at all like the fun times they had with friends and colleagues. Once again, I emphasize that I’m only describing “salaryman karaoke”, for want of a better term, and even when Kelly was writing in 1998, that being the dominant form of karaoke in Japan seemed well and truly over. Part of its decline has been structural like I said, but Kelly says that it its success overseas ironically may have helped too, as it:

…not only increased karaoke’s value as a commodity for export but, more significantly, as an acceptable envoy of things Japanese to the world. Although some in Japan might find the idea of karaoke as a national symbol or lone cultural export more a source of embarrassment rather than pride, its success overseas, along with the resulting economic ramifications, are likely to have contributed, at least in some sectors, to the enhancement of karaoke’s symbolic value at home.

And even more important was the development of the “karaoke box”, which drew karaoke out of the seedy world of drinking and prostitution with which it was first associated and criticized for in the early-1980s, and which, although well embedded in and accepted as part of male Japanese life, was “nevertheless perceived to exist on the margins of legality and morality”. But I’m not sure what Kelly means by “box” exactly…I’m thinking “booth”, like those in space-invader parlors? Either way, it:

…vastly increased karaoke’s accessibility by providing a low-cost, often alcohol-free, environment better suited to the young. Particularly popular among teenagers and young adults, but also with young couples and even families, the karaoke box has replaced the karaoke bar as the dominant form, thus liberating the activity from many of its early and somewhat unsavory associations….karaoke has come to be…deemed more suitable for inclusion under the rubric of “cultural activity” than was its predecessor. (p.83)

( “Moment of Enka” by Troutfactory )

I’m still not sure if “box” means “booth”, as in Korea at least the dominant form would be semi-private large rooms, taking up maybe one floor of a building which would be the song-room (노래방) establishment. I’m sure there’s plenty of seedy ones out there, but the vast majority aren’t, and they’re literally everywhere, not at all just in red light districts like previously. Maybe this is a development of the last ten years, as more money was to made from them as opposed to booths? Regardless, it means that karaoke is definitely not as homogeneous as it may at first appear, and it’s only where the relationships between participants are highly formalized and hierarchical, like between colleagues of a company, that anything like what’s been described in these two posts occurs. As Kelly concludes:

In such a situation, karaoke provides a forum for developing and nurturing the relationships upon which the effectiveness of the work unit…depends. As the karaoke bos caters to groups in which the relationships between members are characteristically less hierarchical and more casual – a group of school or university classmates for example – this too is reflected in the performance. (pp. 83-4)

Update: I’ve looked more closely, and Kelly does explain what a “karaoke box” is in a footnote:

First fashioned in Okayama prefecture by outfitting old cargo containers with a karaoke machine and some basic furnishings, the karaoke box (sometimes referred to as karaoke room or karaoke studio in urban areas) quickly spread throughout Japan, becoming the phenomenon’s most popular manifestation.

Karaoke as a Prism of Japanese (and Korean) Society

( Photo by marc l’esperance )

Truth be told, I started these two posts only having read Bill Kelly’s original chapter one or two times, and have given it its third and by far most thorough rereading only as I’ve been typing. So I did already know before I began which of his points that needed to get out there, and hence there they are, but I have also been figuring out things as I went along, and apologies if that led to less of a flow to the posts than I would have liked. Still, it did mean that the best was saved for last:

As a window into the range of relationships between individuals and between the individual and the context of their primary affiliation (be it the workplace, a social or athletic club, or a group of friends or neighbours), karaoke serves as a useful case study in understanding Japanese society, for it is in these relationships upon which so much in Japan depends. (p. 84)

And in Korea too, for, as anyone who’s ever lived here can attest, Koreans on the whole seem very averse to meeting casual strangers in public places (other than free sources of English foreigners that is), whereas they are quite happy to do so in the controlled environments of those groups mentioned above, to which in the Korean case at least churches should definitely be added. Certainly the same could be said of many individual Westerners too, but not as a group, and it would be difficult to find a place where even university students with the same major will willingly segregrate themselves into almost completely closed, age-based groups within their departments. Knowing that, and now having read that above paragraph by Kelly too, I’ve suddenly realised why Korean students consider their freshman orientation week known as “MT” (Membership Training) to be as important as they do, for not only will they be spending all their (mandatory) class time with the exact same group of classmates for the next three or four years (it is notoriously difficult to change majors in Korea), for convenience’s sake most of their friends will be probably be from the same pool too, which in turn will come to be the network that they’ll rely on for the rest of their lives.

But this was about karaoke, and this is Bill Kelly’s own final word on it:

The “unique” character of the karaoke performance in Japan does not…suggest any kind of consensus of opinion or blanket homogeneity, but rather historical continuity with a performance “tradition” which is embedded within the realm of tsukiai. (pp. 84-5)

According to him, “Tsukiai” literally means “to keep company with”, as well as being a noun referring to “friendship” or “acquaintance”, but this term is also used to refer to:

…the obligatory after-hours drinking and socializing amongst colleagues which is deemed indispensable to the development and maintenance of good working relations. (p. 87)

All in all, Bill Kelly makes a pretty convincing case for karaoke’spopularity being because of its firm embedding in and continuation of a preexisting performance culture. If you’re not convinced, please refer back to the quote at the beginning of Part One, which I remind you is from 1968, ten years before karaoke was invented…and you certainly will be!

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