On my recent trip to Japan, I did the expected thing and went to Akihabara. While there, I spotted a Love Live! collaboration cafe at the arcade GiGO Akihabara Building 3, and decided that I had to go. Not only was it Love Live!-related, but it was actually focused on the OG μ’s girls!
I followed the signs, which led me all the way to the top floor. Curiously, the setup is such that you can’t take escalators all the way.
Upon entering, I found myself in a small room covered in Love Live! paraphernalia, including posters, gashapon machines, and display cases. As a video played with scenes from the anime, Love Live! Songs could also be heard at the same time, dividing my attention a bit. The actual cafe was hidden behind a door, making it impossible to actually see what it’s like without registering with the cashier there.
In addition to registering a time slot for the cafe, the cashier has another role: accepting payments for even more merch. The goods weren’t limited to the original girls but included all generations, though the only things that weren’t blindbox items were the acrylic stands featuring μ’s in pink outfits. I decided to play the odds a little bit, but as someone who much prefers a guaranteed thing, I also bought the acrylic stand for my all-time fave, Hanayo. Because I bought a couple things, I hit a threshold to also receive a free plastic mini poster with the other eight girls included.
There just so happened to be a time slot available shortly after I arrived, so I decided to put my name down.
The actual cafe was brightly lit and covered in μ’s art on the walls and the tables. A couple of the voices, Uchida Aya (Minami) and Iida Riho (Rin), had autographed some of the displays.
The only other collabo cafe/restaurant I’d attended had been for Legend of the Galactic Heroes, which is aesthetically and thematically quite far-removed from Love Live! However, one thing it had in common with the Love Live! cafe is that you could also get merch by ordering food and drinks. In this case, the items consisted of coasters selected at random (of course), with drinks and desserts netting patrons one coaster and main courses two.
I already had meal plans for later, so I decided to go with just a single Hanayo-themed beverage, which was a soft drink consisting of apple juice and muscat grape jelly (Side note: I learned through this trip that muscat grape is ridiculously delicious). I did not win a Hanayo coaster, but rather one for “START:DASH!!,” which in the anime is the first song performed by Honoka, Umi, and Minami.
In contrast to my conservative order, other patrons went quite hard. I saw one person end up with around five drinks, two main courses, and I recall at least one dessert (though my memory might be off). Other individuals were similar. However, as someone who never, ever whaled in gacha in mobile form, I was hesitant to do the IRL version any more than I already had. I understand the desire, though.
You can see everything I ended up with (plus a canvas badge of Yugiri Tsuzuri from Hasunora I purchased elsewhere). While nothing there is really mind blowing, I’m glad I got to have this experience, and I’m happy I got to share it today, on Hanayo’s birthday.
I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve been to Japan, and every stay has been memorable in the best ways. However, there’s was always one item on the bucket list that I could never quite fulfill: going to Comic Market (aka Comiket), Japan’s—and likely the world’s largest comics-related event in the world.
That’s now changed. In an adventure that felt like nearly two decades in the making, I am proud to say that I am (technically speaking) a Comiket veteran.
My Feelings Going In
Comic Market 103 catalog and industry booth pamplet
I’ve read a lot about and related to Comiket over the years. I’ve had friends and acquaintances tell me about the times they went and the money they burned. The event also looms large in my favorite manga, Genshiken—scenes such as Sasahara losing every inhibition his first time attending, Madarame breaking his hand but choosing to try to stay anyway, and an incognito Ogiue spilling her BL all over the floor are all downright iconic. But I’ve also seen comments that the event is some combination of overrated and overhyped, so I wanted to make sure I came to Comic Market 103 with expectations that were neither ridiculously lofty nor blatantly unfair.
A classic cautionary tale is that of the anime fan who gets disillusioned upon visiting Japan, because they had previously been viewing the country and its culture through the inherently distorted lens of anime. My first time there, I was prepared for everyone I met to actually dislike anime because I didn’t want to make that mistake, only to have a different experience. While Japan wasn’t quite like my animes, it was also not that far removed, and I could still appreciate it as a fan. I approached Comiket with all this in mind.
Downside
I want to start by laying out some of the negatives I ran into.
First and foremost, there were no Genshiken doujinshi, as far as I could tell. Boooo.
Second, getting to and from the venue, Tokyo Big Sight, can be an ordeal—especially depending on what time you decide to travel. On Day 1 (of 2), I ended up in a classic sardines-in-a-can situation in the morning, had to wait in line for about two hours before I could actually get into the exhibition space, and made the mistake of staying to the very end. In that last instance, it meant that a walk back to the train station that should have taken five minutes ended up being about an hour. Comiket is literally the most highly attended comic event in the world, and the approximately 30,000 circles (i.e. doujinshi vendors) would itself be considered a large convention. When you have to walk back with that many people, the pedestrian traffic jam is intimidating.
I was very fortunate that, despite Comiket taking place in late December, the weather was surprisingly pleasant. Had things not been so nice, the wait (and my overall experience) might have been more miserable.
Third is that there is very limited time to get anything, and nothing is guaranteed. A small fraction of tickets are for early entry (the doors open at 10AM), and are sold at a premium while also being lottery only. Otherwise, most people (including myself) have regular morning or early afternoon entry tickets, and can only get in later. On top of that, each day ends at 4pm, circles typically are there for only one day, and the most popular artists (especially the 18+ ones) will have massive lines. For example, I tried to get something from Mika PikaZo (character designer of Hakos Baelz and Fire Emblem Engage), and ended up going through three lines only to discover she had sold out of everything. There is a serious sense of FOMO that can make the losses sting—if something is popular, you basically have to impulse buy, or else it might be gone.
But This Is Accounted For!
There may be inevitable issues at Comiket, but that’s all the more reason I have to commend the staff for their excellent organization and crowd control. While things took time, they still progressed smoothly. And once inside, the crowds were not difficult to manage—about comparable to a large-ish anime convention. This is also owing to the attendees and circle members themselves, both of whom generally tried to follow the rules. On a few occasions, I had inadvertently blocked one table while looking at the content of another, and was asked to avoid doing so in consideration of others. The sense I got was that a lot of people involved, be they staff or otherwise, were very familiar with both Comiket and Tokyo Big Sight itself.
Something that helped with the crowds was that halls could open up to the outside, which prevented massive lines for certain artists from clogging up the aisles. I heard from a friend that this seems to have started since 2020 as a COVID precaution, and that this is an added side benefit. There’s a chance I might have felt somewhat differently if the weather hadn’t been so good, but I would have appreciated the improved ventilation regardless.
And as for FOMO, it turns out that a lot of artists sell their stuff in stores after the event, in places like the popular doujin shop Melonbooks. So not all hope is lost (though for buyers outside of Japan, you likely have to spend more on shipping fees and third parties).
What this all means is that negatives do exist, but they are accounted for and mitigated to a decent degree.
Upside
My haul
Although Comiket is not perfect, it’s still a great event that showcases what makes the otaku spirit special. There are drawbacks to being so massive, but the sheer amount of stuff both ultra popular and extremely niche, all in the same space, is a sight to behold.
The biggest categories this year were VTubers and various mobile games (or at least mobile game–adjacent works). But even if you’re into none of that, there’s still a chance you can find creators with which you share a common interest—and that’s even putting aside the 18+ stuff.
Here is some of what I ran into over the course of two days.
Srungle fanfiction
Guides to NYPD call signs and insignia
Illustrated food guides
Andy Hole x MIX from Aquarion EVOL in the year 2023
Original mecha drawings
Pilgrimage guides for fans of particular franchises
A book dedicated to events for Kawamura Maria, the voice of Naga from Slayers
Guides to bootleg ZOIDS
Cure Precious x Black Pepper Precure het shipping
Illustrated collections from actual VTuber character designers/collaborators
Cosplay model photo collections
Initial D BL
Yotsuba& parodies of Zambot 3 and Daitarn 3
Both het and LGBT Gundam: The Witch from Mercury shipping
Literally Sonoda Ken’ichi
It might be easier to find smaller events throughout the year that are hyper-focused on your particular interests, but nowhere is the sheer diversity of fandoms more on display than at Comic Market, even if certain specific titles dominate the majority of the physical space. It’s wonderful.
Vs. Conventions
The sense of discovery at Comiket is second to none, and I can’t help but contrast it with anime conventions in the US. One of my biggest problems with artist alleys is that it’s hard to find fanart of more obscure titles. This is because con tables are expensive (Otakon is $375 USD as opposed to Comiket’s 8000 yen, around $60–$80), and artists tend to display what’s most popular, probably out of the need to recoup the expenses. It’s not impossible, but sussing out the weird stuff involves going through artist portfolios or asking, which can be awkward or time-consuming. On the other hand, because Comiket tables are generally grouped together by interest, and their specific interests are front and center, you can know at a glance what to expect.
The hololive booth
There was an industry presence at Comic Market 103, but it was much smaller than the space dedicated to doujin works. This is actually the opposite of American conventions, where the official booths and merch usually take up the majority of floor space. One thing I found interesting is that most of them, more than being manga-related, were more otaku-focused. That is to say, they were properties that attract hardcore dedicated fans—things like VTubers, Love Live!, The iDOLM@STER, mobile games, etc. One interesting presence was a booth for My Youth Romantic Comedy Is Wrong, As I Expected, which is celebrating its 10th anniversary. I saw quite a line for merch there, and as a fan of the series, I’m glad to see it get some real love.
Another difference is that con-style panels and talks, be they fan-run or professional, are non-existent. They’re typically one of my favorite things, so their absence is a tad disappointing, but I also already knew that would be the case. All this goes back to time being a precious resource. No one really lingered or tried to socialize either, and the fact that the food truck lines were short (unlike an anime con) encapsulated one important fact: Attendees had priorities, and only a few hours to get what they wanted.
Overall Thoughts
Comic Market isn’t really one fandom, but rather dozens side by side in the same space. This approach has its strengths and weaknesses, and both are magnified by the sheer size of the population attending it. But while there are disparate groups, they all have the same general goal of finding the books that resonate on a personal level, and I think this gives the entire event a certain focused energy.
At the Osaki train station, one of the transfer points to get to Tokyo Big Sight, there was a chalkboard sign both welcoming people to Comiket and thanking everyone on the way back, depending on which direction you were coming from. It’s a small gesture in the grand scheme of things, but this double-sided sign’s presence really hit home for me the fact that the majority of hardcore fandom in Japan descends on a small strip of land.
I can’t say if this should be the first doujin event a person should visit, and it might not even be the best choice, depending on what one values. However, I can personally say that I had a great time, I’m happy to have done it, and if the stars align, I’d be more than willing to go again.
What does it mean for a work of fiction to feel “realistic?” It’s a question I return to over and over because of how subjective the answer can be. The more I’ve thought about different possible takes, however, the more I’ve found that I resonate strongly with something I call “emotional continuity,” and it informs which series I view most positively.
Broadly speaking, there are many types of continuity in storytelling. There’s the simple that the events of the past should inform the events of the future. A character who loses an arm in episode 1 of a show shouldn’t get it back with no explanation in episode 10. Then there’s capital “C” continuity, like what American superhero comics often deal in, where all the individual parts ideally look together to form a consistent universe and timeline across multiple different series. “Emotional continuity” isn’t nearly so complex. Instead, I define it as simply when events that should affect a given character emotionally result in an appropriate response, and that this character remembers this feeling on some level. Those reactions and memories don’t have to be “sensible,” and they don’t have to result in a “character arc,” though both are possibilities. They simply have to feel consistent with the character and their way of being, and then leave a mark on that character.
One work I’ve debated with others about realism (and by extension show quality, though the two are not necessarily related) is the anime Mobile Suit Gundam: Iron-Blooded Orphans. Whereas others saw the character actions as making little sense and thus stunting the overall story, I felt the opposite. I came to strongly understand each character’s motivations, especially in the core cast, and to see how early events both happy and tragic would inform the general trajectory of their approaches to life.
Another anime that I’ve argued about is Kill la Kill, specifically in regards to the idea that the heroine, Ryuko, is a strong main character even though she didn’t receive much “character development.” The big sticking point for detractors is that she doesn’t really change significantly throughout the series or learn any personal lessons. However, I find that even if she doesn’t transform dramatically, she conveys a strong sense of “emotional continuity” based in her anger, her stubbornness, and her desire to right wrongs. Even if she’s still the same rage-filled Ryuko by the end, it’s impossible to say that the events of the series don’t affect her emotionally or inform her friendships, battles, and decisions.
I realized that “emotional continuity” also greatly informs my utter fondness for the series Heartcatch Precure! and might even explain why the series is often seen as the best of the Precure franchise or somewhat overrated. Years ago, a blogger named Scamp tried to watch through as much Precure as he could, but ended up dropping every show, including Heartcatch. His reason was that nothing ever seemed to happen for the most part, and that dramatic, story-changing moments came too abruptly. This surprised me, because I felt the total opposite—that the show built up to every significant plot point like a skilled architect oversaw the construction. I even wrote a response. In hindsight, while I used the phrase “emotional logic,” i.e. reasoning through feelings, to describe what I saw, what I was actually highlighting was emotional continuity.
Moonlight…in suffering loss…felt wracked with guilt, giving up her role as protector. The task to defend the world had been passed onto a new generation…and as they collected the Heart Seeds, they laid the groundwork for Moonlight to redeem herself, to learn from her mistakes while also forgiving herself…. Although Cure Moonlight’s return is telegraphed to a degree, for me it built anticipation … I felt satisfied that the show had reached a strong emotional point with a solid expression of how the feelings of each character, especially Moonlight, defined their actions.
Rarely in fiction is anything utterly devoid of emotional continuity, but the best series make you feel as if they care about what’s happened to their characters. Something that has had issues with maintaining this continuity in recent years was World Wrestling Entertainment, and that seems to be finally turned around in the past couple years. While there are general structural issues with how WWE presents itself that go beyond emotional continuity, it’s telling that fans had very little faith in their favorites wrestlers being recognizable beyond a basic template. Continuity is played fast and loose in general, and the highly physical nature of their format means injuries and other unpredictable elements can gum up the best laid plans, but there’s a persistent sense that what a given wrestler does or says one week should actually matter the next.
Do you find emotional continuity to be important? If so, how much is it a priority for you? I’m curious to see how others feel.
Frieren: Beyond Journey’s End is simply one of the finest fantasy series I’ve ever seen, on par with Witch Hat Atelier. From its premise, to its intriguing world-building, to its endearing cast of characters, Frieren is like an oasis in a desert of flimsily conceived genre works. Among its many strengths, one thing that I find most compelling is the way it portrays how different races perceive time differently. This is especially the case with the titular heroine, Frieren.
A long-lived elf mage, Frieren was originally a member of the small party that managed to defeat the demon lord after a decade of adventure. Shortly after their victory, she and her allies are invited to live in the royal capital, but she leaves for a “short” while to continue her pursuit of weird and obscure spells. By the time she returns (50 years later), their young and handsome leader, the vaunted hero Himmel, is old and gray. At his funeral, Frieren deeply regrets having been his companion for “only” 10 years—what others would consider a long and life-defining era instead barely existed for her.
Later episodes reinforce just how much of a drop in the bucket the 10-year quest was for Frieren. Against Aura the Guillotine, a mighty and feared demon, all other adventurers would do everything in their power to eliminate her for the danger she posed. Yet, Frieren held back so that she could deceive Aura for 80 years before dropping the hammer in the modern day. This truly gives a sense of how differently Frieren sees everything as an elf many centuries old, but also just how impactful Himmel was to her.
In thinking about Himmel’s influence, another anime character came to mind: Ikari Shinji from Evangelion. Specifically, his relationship with Nagisa Kaworu at the end of the TV series holds some parallels.
Kaworu shows up in Episode 24 of Neon Genesis Evangelion, and he makes an incredible impact on Shinji. Their immediate friendship is a salve for the emotionally wounded Shinji, who opens up to Kaworu. However, by the end of the episode, Kaworu is dead. This relationship lasted only half an hour of runtime, and less than a week in-story. Nevertheless, this brief love (be it platonic or romantic) is powerful indeed.
The way Frieren sees her time with Himmel is not unlike how Shinji views his few days with Kaworu. It was there, it was magical, and it was gone just like that. It’s beautiful yet heart-rending, and these couple of details really showcase how amazing Frieren the series is as a whole.
I mentioned having some fun surprises last month, and I let the cat out of the bag on Twitter a few days ago: I attended Comic Market for the first time!
While I don’t have a schedule fully planned out, you can expect the next couple months to have at least a few blog posts about my experience at Comiket, as well as other bits of my trip to Japan. I’m actually a bit worried about them overshadowing other topics, including the new anime season, but hopefully it’ll all work out.
May the Year of the Dragon bring fortune to everyone, but especially my Patreon subscribers:
I did experience the earthquake that hit Ishikawa Prefecture, but fortunately only from a great distance. I know there have been some tragic losses, but I hope everything gets up and running for those most affected.
In a series full of excellent characters who are each a master class in storytelling, the one who stands out to me the most is Pluto himself.
The main antagonistic force in his series, Pluto is presented in myriad ways over the course of the story. First, he’s known only by the aftermath of his destructive powers. Then, we see glimpses of him within mighty whirlwinds, like a monster straight out of a suspenseful horror film. But then more facets of Pluto are revealed that show him to be far more complex and conflicted than what we’re initially led to believe.
He barely gets any screen time in the grand scheme of things, but by the time everything comes to a head, it’s amazing that what stands before us is the same being as the enigmatic harbinger of death from Episode 1. The most seemingly inhuman of robots turns out to be among the most human of all.
BEST FEMALE CHARACTER
Suletta Mercury (Mobile Suit Gundam: The Witch from Mercury)
After decades, we finally have our first true female Gundam protagonist. While there have been predecessors of sorts, like Fumina in Build Fighters TRY and Christina Mackenzie in War in the Pocket, Suletta is both the Gundam pilot and the heroine in a main Gundam anime.
Being such a major milestone is a pretty big deal in itself. However, what we also have in Suletta is an incredibly interesting main character whose story and growth anchor her series—all while being incredibly unique among Gundam heroes. She begins the series as a sheltered girl whose anxiousness and constant second-guessing are endearing and hint at her eventual development. Thrust into unfamiliar environments and forced to confront difficult questions about who she is and where she came from, Suletta gradually grows into her own person, struggling and breaking free of the shackles imposed on her by others, including her own mother. Suletta might not even be my favorite character in Witch from Mercury, but her significance to Gundam and anime, combined with the brilliant job the creators and the actor have done to bring Suletta to life makes her the best in my eyes. She is so very human, and the way she is shaped by—and, in turn, shapes—her world resonates emotionally.
BEST MAGICAL BOY
Yuunagi Tsubasa (Soarin’ Sky Precure)
Precure is a magical girl franchise, so it generally makes sense that each series would feature girls as the heroes, with male characters occupying supporting roles. And over the years, there would be dalliances with the possibility that boys could be magical in their own ways, whether by utilizing different abilities (Black Pepper, Rio), through imagination and gags (Cure Fire, Cure Gorilla), or as one-offs (Cure Infini). But in Soarin’ SkyPrecure, ananime that’s all about defying the trends off its predecessors, Yuunagi Tsubasa stands proud as the first true male Precure.
Tsubasa is a bird who cannot fly—his species, native to a magical fantasy land, sacrificed the natural ability for greater intelligence. But rather than give up on the possibility, he used his smarts to study and follow in the footsteps of the Wright Brothers. And when he gains the magic to travel the skies as a Precure, he utilizes his knowledge of physics and aerodynamics to aid in battle. The way Tsubasa takes advantage of his strengths and refuses to let his weaknesses limit him is inspirational.
I think a special shout-out has to be given to Cure Wing’s design, as it does a great job of feeling boyish while matching the general Precure aesthetic. It threads a very fine line indeed.
FINAL THOUGHTS
This year’s characters represent long overdue achievements. Pluto is the antagonist of a work for an anime adaptation for a manga from 20 years ago. Suletta and Tsubasa, in turn, have shattered gender norms of their respective decades-old mega franchises. They’re also anything but one-dimensional—especially Pluto and Suletta, who come out of their respective works very different from how they began. The pioneering aspect of these characters indicate a slow but steady march of progress that I hope won’t be the high point, but the beginning of greater things.
Halfway through Elden Ring. Kio thinks the game is amazing because when you first start out, becoming the Elden Lord seems unthinkable, but as you progress, the notion starts to feel real.
With his work for Rakuen magazine out of the way, Kio concentrates on trying to finish his ero manga manuscript. He originally wanted to get it done and ready to sell by the end of the year.
Kio finally finished the manuscript for his next erotic work, and it turned out to be a whopping 134 pages. Someone likens his output to Ogiue’s, which Kio denies.
Whenever Kio listens to the boss music from the Elden Ring soundtrack, he feels like he makes good progress while working on manga. He’s also 50% through the story but hasn’t fought a lot of the second-half bosses yet.
Kio saw the Japanese animated film TheImaginary, which exceeded his expectations. He couldn’t help but view Rudger and Tot through the eyes of a parent.
There are some surprises with Rudger’s voice, as the character seems to change gender in the movie. [Note: I’m not familiar with the film myself]
Kio talks about the fact that he’s been using Twitter for a few years now, and if it were to go away, he’d probably return to having no internet presence. He also calls “X” a stranger/kid he doesn’t know.
Kio bought a copy of It’s All Your Fault, Sensei. While he normally skips straight to the action, this time, he watched the whole thing and enjoyed it.
He mentions that there are certain limitations to showing internal climaxes in live-action stuff compared to manga.
The Kuma Miko manga is ending, and Kio gives his thoughts. It’s a series where after every chapter is over, he feels a need to express something difficult to say. He’s not sure how he’s going to feel after it concludes, given how many laughs he’s gotten out of the series.
Kio realizes he’s been mixing up the Bastole and the Botune Aura Battlers from Dunbine, despite having both model kits as a kid. He’s not the only one either.
Multi-screen video shorts juxtaposing unrelated content have been a thing online in recent years. Known as “sludge content,” it seems to be an increasingly popular way for people to watch videos. Apparently, it’s also helpful for people with ADHD, who might have trouble with longer forms of media.
On top of not having ADHD (at least as far as I know), sludge content personally feels a bit bizarre. At the same time, I definitely don’t know enough to speak poorly of it, other than that it is unfamiliar to me. I do have a couple questions, though: one concerning the past and another the future.
First question: Given the format of sludge content and the way it provides different forms of stimulation, could a three-ring circus achieve a similar effect?
The intent of a three-ring circus is to have multiple acts going on at once, so audience members can pay attention to the part they like most, or even switch focus if something catches their eyes. In times before film existed, let alone video apps, could this form of tripartite entertainment have provided a similar sense of satisfaction to people who had ADHD before it was even known?
Second question: Will we ever see sludge content created in such a way as to explore and push its boundaries as a style or medium?
It’s no secret that most media is made for the neurotypical majority. But what if people with ADHD (or anyone else with an affinity for sludge content) was assumed to be the default audience? What kinds of stories or creative experiences could be told by seeing sludge content not as a weird thing some people are into, but as an opportunity to create works that speak deeply to a particular group?
I have no answers for either question, but at least I’d like to see attempts at the latter.
“Is it more important to me for a group song to sound good or have distinct voices?”
This is something that’s been on my mind lately as I’ve been exploring my own feelings about music- and idol-adjacent worlds.
I have an odd relationship with K-Pop. I think it can be good, but it’s also definitely not my preference generally, and as someone who seeks to be open-minded, I keep resisting the urge to write off huge swathes of it. The last thing I want to be is dismissive, so I listen and listen, but it just never seems to fully click. Even with songs that I enjoy, something bothers me in the back of my head. Also confusing is that I seem to end up enjoying songs inspired by K-Pop more than K-Pop itself. Case in point: “Dark Breath” by hololive VTuber La+ Darknesss. That includes both the song itself and the accompanying dance (which I know is part of the appeal of K-Pop).
Speaking of, La+ has been crossing over in all sorts of places: notably performing with non-hololive VTubers, doing covers of songs by the League of Legends K-Pop-style group K/DA (alongside her fellow hololive members) for Riot Games One, and being one of two VTuber ambassadors for the very first The iDOLM@STER/Love Live joint concert.
And here, despite the hololive performances of “POP/STARS” and “Baddest” being less polished, I also enjoy them more than the originals. I don’t think it’s merely because I know the VTubers, so I’ve been doing a good deal of listening to K/DA for the first time, and revisiting Love Live! in between VTuber songs.
Different franchises and media projects have their own priorities. Love Live! and The iDOLM@STER are both just as much about voice acting as they are music, and being able to easily distinguish between individuals based on how they sound is a big part of helping each character/performer to garner their own fandoms.
For example, I don’t think you need to have any familiarity with Love Live! to notice that “Cutie Panther” features three very distinct voices. The differences can be exaggerated, but they’re present nevertheless.
Similarly, the start of ReGLOSS’s “Shunkan Heartbeat” has each of the five hololive members singing a part of the beginning by themselves, and it’s because the song is as much an introduction of them as five distinct entities (each with their own Youtube channel). That’s part of the VTuber business model.
This is not to say that songs need distinct voices to be good, and there’s plenty of music with easily differentiated voices that is lacking in other ways, including within those voice-acting/VTuber/idol domain. But when I listen to Blackpink, for instance, I find it is nowhere near as easy to tell the singers apart. It might just be a lack of familiarity on my part, but I also feel that it might not even be the fault of the singers themselves. After all, if you picked three random people out of a room and told them to all sing, there’s a good chance they’d all sound different from one another, even if they weren’t good.
The culprit, I believe, could be how K-Pop is produced. That industry seems to be built on projecting images of perfection, and the result is that everyone sounds flawless. However, this has the drawback of also removing the quirks in people’s voices and by extension their individuality. And even with K/DA, I feel that their songs do a relatively better job of keeping these qualities, perhaps because the source material was a game with over 150 unique playable characters.
Which is to say: 1) While I don’t think distinct voices can be the only thing a song has, nor a lack of such a quality to be a deal breaker, I think it can add a lot to a song. 2) I think part of the reason K-Pop feels so overproduced to me is because of the way it seems to hone and chisel the music to such an extent as to wipe out those interestingly unique qualities that singers possess.
And all this leads me down another rabbit hole, which is thinking about the different roles a singer can have when it comes to music. Does the song serve them, or do they serve the song? Are they the centerpiece, or part of a greater sound? With idols, is it that the quality of music is less important than its ability to emotionally connect the fans to the idols? I feel like there are endless possibilities, and perhaps that how much we as listeners and audiences prioritize certain elements is what shapes our tastes.
I’m in a pretty good spot in my life. I value the work I do, I love continuing to write this blog, and even my social life is as comfortable as I need it to be. While this might sound like I’m humble-bragging, that is most definitely not the intent. Nor am I setting up an example for others as to how to succeed. Rather, this is a reminder to myself to remember what it’s like to be a “nerd lost at sea.”
From a young age, I knew I didn’t quite live up to the expected masculine image presented to me in society. I didn’t want to watch sports, I was physically weaker than my friends, and had little desire to get stronger to make up for this. I would rather read a book or play a game. I spoke (and still speak) in a rapid mumble that is difficult for everyone but my closest friends to understand. I also remember all those times I was part of one internet community or another, and someone would come in after being gone for months, and all they could talk about is how life was so much better once they abandoned childish things. If it made them happier, then that’s for the best, but there was always a problematic assumption that the hobbies were at fault.
Things have worked out for me more or less, but I try to tell myself that while I’ve progressed a lot, there are fundamental aspects of me that haven’t changed, and they don’t necessarily need to change. Also, I’ve found my way to shore, but I don’t have some guaranteed winning formula. There are as many factors outside of myself as there are within, and remembering the doubts and struggles I’ve been through (and still experience) is my way of not forgetting where I came from.
OGIUE MANIAX 