ＳＫＥ４８から地下アイドルへ アイドルというジャンルが好み （ＫＣ）

大堀恵著「最下層アイドル」という本には、大堀恵が、ＡＫＢ４８に参加する前に、地下アイドルであったことが書かれていた。

朝日新聞1月18日の記事　には、身近な「地下アイドル」拡大中　との見出しで、
Quote
「ＡＫＢ４８」の名古屋版「ＳＫＥ４８」と地下アイドルを同時に応援する会社員の田尾知之さん（３６）は「ＳＫＥは人気が出てチケットを取るのが難しく、地下アイドルイベントに通うようになった。話せて握手もできて『距離感ゼロ』なのがうれしい。妹みたいな存在で成長を見守ることができる」。
Unquote
と書いてあった。
確かに、SKE48のメール抽選も当たりにくくなり、アイドルを生で見たい人は、地下アイドルしかないのかもしれない。

記事によると、地下アイドルの定義は、
マスメディアよりも、ライブハウスなどを中心に活動する「地下アイドル（インディーズアイドル）」

地下アイドルの起源は「アイドル冬の時代」と言われた９０年代初頭にさかのぼる。歌うアイドルのテレビ出演が難しくなり、地下のライブハウスに活路を見いだした。 　

記事の中に、
「バンドのイベントでは、お目当てのバンドが終わると帰ってしまうお客さんも多いが、地下アイドルのお客さんはジャンル全体のファン」
という発言があり、

ジャンル全体のファン
アイドル全体のファン（特定のアイドルを応援するだけでなく、アイドルを全般的に応援するファン）
プロ野球全体のファン（特定の球団を応援するだけでなく、プロ野球を全般的に応援するファン）

こういうファンが増えると、アイドルは文化として継承されていく。
逆に、こういうファンが増えないと、アイドルの文化としての継承は難しい。

朝日新聞の文化欄には、アイドルが取り上げられることがあり、
前回の記事　ヲタ芸　（鈴木京一）　
前回の記事　秋元康インタビュー　（マツバラヒロシ）　
に続いてこの記事も記者の署名入り。小林裕子　と書いてあった。

ＫＣ

チームＢ トレーディング生写真セット 売り切れ一番 （ＫＣ）

昨日のトガブロより

「劇場トレーディング生写真セット2010.January」販売状況

本日（2010年1月25日）より販売致しております「劇場トレーディング生写真セット2010.January」ですが、

本日分のチームBセットは完売致しました。

これって、チームＢの人気があるっていうこと？

AXは苦戦でしたけれど。

ＫＣ

追記：ここ数日のトガブロをチェックしているが、チームＢ・チームＡ・チームＫの順で売れている。（１月２７日）

ＡＸリクエストアワーでのシンディ（浦野一美）のパフォーマンス。（ときめき研究家）

私の推しメンであるシンディは、歌以外のパフォーマンスで、さすがの存在感を発揮していた。

１日目のMCでは、９期研究生を肴に、なっちゃん（平嶋夏海）と長いトークを展開したようだ。一部のブログでは、「自分ばかり前に出過ぎ」「くどい」「９期生がかわいそう」などの感想も見かけたが、それが彼女の持ち味なのだから止むを得ないと思う。見方は人それぞれで、ネガティブに見る人もいるだろうが、それを恐れてはいけない。
「天真爛漫」に「私を見て」と自己主張できる積極性は重要だ。そして彼女はそれを臆面なくできるので、私には嫌味がないように思われる。一方、年齢に関する自虐ネタも、もはやお約束となっている。
そもそも、ＭＣで自分の確固とした「型」を持っているメンバーが他に何人いるだろうか。（劇場公演をそんなに頻繁に見ていないので自信ないが、高橋の「スベリ」、増田の「大阪弁」、なちゅの独壇場、くらいしか思い当たらない）
さらに、シンディの相方になっちゃんがいれば、その型はより洗練、昇華される。この二人がお互いの良さを引き出しあう話芸の域に達しているのは、ピーナッツさんの投稿にある通りだと思う。

４日目、２４位にＳＤＮの『孤独なランナー』がランクインして、場内がどよめく。もちろんシンディも登場。映画館の画像にシンディはあまり映らなかったが、生き生きと踊るメンバー達の姿に、思わずウルウルする。彼女たちは皆、必死であり、折角与えられた出番では貪欲に「私を見て」とアピールする。ここではシンディだけが特別な訳ではない。

８位の『初日』を歌った後のＭＣで、シンディが「８位で悔しい」という感想を口にしたが、それはチームＢメンバー、そしてチームＢファン全員の代弁であって、誰かが一度口にしないとあの場は収まりがつかなかったのだ。その役どころができるのは「天真爛漫」なシンディを置いて他にいない。そして「８位でも充分価値がある」という妥当な結論で、メンバーやファンの気持を決着させる役割は、やはりなっちゃんが果たしたのだ。この短い時間のやりとりは、綿密に考えつくされ、かつ完璧に演じられたものだったと考える。

３位の『１０年桜』の後で、工事現場の衣装で登場したのは、前の記事に書いた通り、１位・２位の順位を予見させてしまうもので、まずい演出だったと思う。しかし、シンディは「本気で『天国野郎』のランクインを期待している勘違いメンバー」の役を「本気で」演じていた。少しでも躊躇や照れがあったなら、観客には順位が予見された憤りだけが残っただろう。シンディの本気が、まずい演出を救った。

１位の『言い訳Maybe』では、所定の「１７位ポジション」で一生懸命歌い、踊っていた。映画館なので、ずっと目で追うことができず、もどかしかった。画面に映った時間は短かったが、いつものダイナミックなダンスだった。この時点では、彼女がメンバーで唯一人の「三冠王（３年連続１位）」を達成したことには、私も含めて多くのファンは気がついていない。
曲終了後、シンディは挨拶する高橋のちょうど真後ろに立ち、ずっと映りこんでいた。歌い踊り終わった後の、火照った顔、少し上がった息、放心したような表情で、しかし高橋の言葉に一つ一つ頷いていた。カメラに映っていることは全く気付いていないように、いつもの「私を見て」のシンディとは別の顔を見せていた。

アンコール後のトークで、高橋、前田が、シンディ、佐藤由加里、野呂、大堀のシニア４名を呼んだ。ＳＤＮに完全移籍する４人の花道とも取れる演出だったが、ここでシンディが「三冠王」の話を披露し、満場の喝采を受けた。「こみ上げて来るので、もういいです。」とコメントも珍しく短く切り上げた。「三冠王」は、偶然の巡り合わせとは言え、第１期生で地味なポジションで歌い踊り続け、独自の存在感を作り上げていったシンディへの祝福だったのだと思う。

Ｐ．Ｓ．
古い話になるが、紅白歌合戦でのシンディのパフォーマンスも素晴らしかった。
「涙サプライズ」では、並んでカメラの前を通り過ぎる１秒にも満たない時間で、両手を広げ、カメラ目線でアピールしていた。
「歌の力」コーナーでも、２秒ほどの時間で、カメラ目線ばかりか、カメラ（の先のファン）に、こっくり頷いてみせたのだ。もちろん歌いながらで、場の雰囲気を壊さない範囲内での、最大限のアピール。「あまり映らないポジションでの最大限の自己主張」のベテランぶりを遺憾なく発揮していた。

2010-12-31

http://search.japantimes.co.jp/cgi-bin/fm20101231a1.html

2010's many charts tell a confusing tale
Reason behind sales may say more about urban-rural divide than musical genius


By IAN MARTIN
Special to The Japan Times
As seems to be becoming commonplace with these end-of-year roundups, the big music story was once again the rise (and rise) of AKB48 and their rapidly multiplying sister groups, SKE48 (named after their home at Nagoya's Sunshine Sakae building), NMB48 (after Namba in Osaka) and "mature" proto-porn, postgraduation dumping ground SDN48 (from the group's Saturday night live time slot).

Next year, we can maybe expect SAP48, named both for the city of Sapporo and in tribute to the poor saps who are bankrolling producer Yasushi Akimoto's empire. And if anyone can think of a handy abbreviation for a Fukuoka-based group, please let us know. In fact, these groups are proliferating at such a rate that it's estimated by 2014, Akimoto will be employing more teenage girls than McDonald's, and by 2020 he will overtake the entire Southeast Asian sex industry.

If there was ever any remaining doubt that it is sex, rather than music, that is the primary engine propelling the success of the Akimoto project, the music videos for "Ponytail to Chuchu" and "Heavy Rotation," with their creepy juxtaposition of playground innocence and voyeuristic teasing, must surely put that to rest. Next to the complex sexual doublethink AKB48 ask of their fans, the re-emergence of ex-member Rina Nakanishi as a straightforward, honest-to-goodness porn star in July seemed almost endearingly old fashioned.

For anyone looking to enjoy their female pop stars without troubling their inner Humbert Humbert, crack squads of long-legged, slick, aggressively modern, electropop beauties were being beamed in from South Korea across the Sea of Japan in chart-bothering numbers, with Kara, Girls Generation, Brown Eyed Girls and more breaking into the Japanese mainstream.

And insofar as any of these groups have anything to do with music in the first place, what is striking about the current Korean invasion is just how parochial their Japanese competitors now sound in comparison. Minimize your browser window for a moment while ogling AKB48's undeveloped teenage bodies, and what's left is music that hasn't changed in any significant way since the peak sales period of the Japanese pop industry in about 1997.

Looking at Japanese chart-rankings company Oricon's Top 10 singles of the year, the results show, in addition to four AKB48 tracks, five songs by boy band Arashi and one by Kat-tun, both from the stable of pop factory Johnny & Associates, who seem to have been squatting at or around the top of the Oricon rankings since before the Battle of Sekigahara.

Of course, any news of Oricon rankings allows us to play every Japanese music industry observer's favorite game of spot the difference with a quick glance at some of the other rankings out there, including Tower Records, MTV, USEN (cable radio and media contents group), iTunes, Recochoku (mobile downloads and ringtones), and the Joysound and UGA karaoke rankings. They reveal a rather different picture of Japan's musical landscape.

The AKB girls' popularity appears to be more or less universal across the board, but the Johnny's artists are far more scarce, with faux-alternative pop idol Kaela Kimura reigning over the iTunes Top 10 with her songs "Butterfly" and "Ring a Ding Dong," while shout-outs should also go to blues rocker Superfly and hip-hop duo Hilchryme.

For mobile-phone users, the undisputed star of the year, with mass dominance across all audio categories, has been the singer Kana Nishino, whose song "Aitakute Aitakute" is doubtless annoying people in classrooms, on trains and in libraries countrywide at this very moment thanks to its popularity as a ringtone. Recochoku also reveals that in video downloads, Kara in particular are giving AKB48 a serious run for their money.

Finally, the karaoke rankings again show Kaela Kimura and Hilchryme in strong positions, although hip-hop dentists GReeeeN's "Kiseki" and anime singer Yoko Takahashi's "Evangelion" theme rule the roost.

So what does any of this mean? Well, assuming that Oricon's results are more or less accurate, as I'm sure The Japan Times' lawyers will be assuring me is the case, we can probably draw a few conclusions here.

First, AKB48's popularity has gone far beyond their Akihabara otaku roots. More or less ordinary guys, and most probably young girls as well, are buying their music in large quantities throughout the country.

Second, there is both an age gap and an urban-rural divide in play with these results. Internet and mobile downloads tend to skew young, and karaoke results will probably skew urban. The astonishing performance of Arashi could at least in part be down to very high sales from older audiences in countryside areas, which at least seems to chime with Johnny's artists' well-known popularity with middle-aged women, while Kana Nishino's total dominance with mobile- phone junkies (young and female), suggests she may very well be the new Ayumi Hamasaki.

Finally, the popularity of Kara and Girls Generation in the mobile-video download charts suggests that the stereotype of Japan as a nation obsessed with servile, underdeveloped teenage beauty is being challenged. When given a more mature, sexier alternative, the image sells.

But while all of these pieces of production-line pop confectionary tear each other apart over the decaying corpse of the Japanese music industry on behalf of their desperate corporate masters, in the end, new ideas are what will save music — and as usual, these ideas are coming from anywhere but the music industry establishment.

Indie-rock band Andymori, whose album "Fanfare to Nekkyo" managed to graze the charts early in the year, are bringing in huge crowds right now, and to achieve that level of popularity without the aid of a major label shows that, to some at least, tunes still matter. Credit should also go to Andymori's distributor, Boundee, a company whose integrated approach to promotion could be at the forefront of a move that will eventually cut labels out of the whole distribution chain (while conveniently ensuring the initial costs still largely remain with the artists).

Similarly, the meteoric rise of punk- rock techno-geeks Shinsei Kamattechan, whose popularity was largely spread via video-sharing website Nico Nico Douga, shows that while major labels are still falling over themselves, Keystone Kops style, trying to erase their own artists' music videos from the Web, the digital arena is wide open for those with the skill to exploit it.

Beginning next year, Ian Martin will start writing a column on the fourth week of every month for The Japan Times music page.

2010-10-23

Pierced Fans, Stiff Cadres and Hip Rock
Security guards watched fans at the Zhenjiang Midi Music Festival earlier this month in Zhenjiang City, China.
By ANDREW JACOBS
Published: October 23, 2010

ZHENJIANG, China — A curious thing happened this month at the Midi Music Festival, China’s oldest and boldest agglomeration of rock, funk, punk and electronica. Performers took musical potshots at the country’s leaders, tattooed college students sold antigovernment T-shirts and an unruly crowd of heavy metal fans giddily torched a Japanese flag that had been emblazoned with expletives

Curious, because the event, a four-day free-for-all of Budweiser, crowd-surfing and camping, was sponsored by the local Communist Party, which spent $2.1 million to turn cornfields into festival grounds, pay the growling punk bands and clean up the detritus left by 80,000 attendees.
The city cadres also provided an army of white-gloved police officers, earplugs in place, who courteously endured bands with names like Miserable Faith and AK47 while fans slung mud at one another.
The incongruity of security agents facilitating the sale of cannabis-themed merchandise was not lost on the festival’s organizer, Zhang Fan.
“The government used to see rock fans as something akin to a devastating flood or an invasion of savage beasts,” said Mr. Zhang, a handful of whose events have been canceled by skittish bureaucrats since he pioneered the Chinese music festival in 2000. “Now we’re all part of the nation’s quest for a harmonious society.”
He is not complaining, nor are the dozens of malnourished musicians who finally have a way to monetize their craft — although no one is getting rich yet.
The shift in official sentiment — and among state-backed companies paying to have their logos splashed across the stage — has led to an explosion of festivals across China. In 2008, there were five multiday concerts, nearly all in Beijing. This year there have already been more than 60, from the northern grasslands of Inner Mongolia to the southern highlands of Yunnan Province.
Without exception the festivals have been staged with the help of local governments that have come to realize that pierced rockers flailing around a mosh pit are not necessarily interested in upending single-party rule.
More importantly, the governments have decided, for now at least, that music festivals can deliver something that even the most seasoned propagandists cannot spin out of thin air: coolness.
“All these local ministries want their cities to be thought of as fun, young and hip so they can draw more tourists and claim a public relations trophy,” said Scarlett Li, a music promoter whose company, Zebra Media, stages festivals, including one in Chengdu that draws more than 150,000 to a park custom-built by the government.
The more permissive atmosphere for indie music is a contrast to heightened Internet censorship and the crackdown on vocal advocates of political change. Skeptics say the government is simply trying to co-opt youth culture, but others view the spread of festivals as an encouraging sign that rock, punk and heavy metal might finally have a stage free from the financial and political shackles that have constrained them.
Even if the authorities still insist on approving lineups in advance, rejections are infrequent, organizers say, partly because more musicians perform in English, which can challenge all but the most learned censors.
“The government is happy for young bands to sing in English because that way the fans won’t know what they’re saying,” said Yang Haisong, the lead singer of a post-punk band called P.K.14 and a producer.
Too much of a good thing, however, can have its downsides. The sudden proliferation of festivals has led to sparse crowds as events compete for the limited pool of fans able to afford the 150 yuan-a-day (about $22) admission. Then there are the slapdash affairs that lack working toilets, edible food or decent sound systems. Nearly every seasoned musician, it seems, has been shocked by an improperly grounded microphone or stiffed by a promoter.
“There’s nothing quite like getting injured on stage and having to hobble out to the front gate of a festival because no one thought to provide an ambulance,” said Helen Feng, a Chinese-American musician, referring to her own fall during a recent performance.
Another problem is that China’s independent music scene is still in its adolescence, with quality and originality in short supply. Many festivals showcase the same acts, some of which might be charitably described as musically challenged.
“If every festival has the same three bands or if there is too much corporate advertising or if kids don’t enjoy themselves, they won’t come back,” Ms. Feng said.
The one festival that does not have a problem with loyalty is Midi, which began in 2000 as a recital for students at Mr. Zhang’s Midi School of Music in Beijing and has grown into something of a cultural phenomenon. In the years when it hasn’t been shut down by the authorities, the event has drawn tens of thousands to a Beijing park with dozens of bands and a freewheeling atmosphere of young sophisticates, pimple-faced thrasher rock enthusiasts and a smattering of angry nationalists who like their music loud and rough.
But last year, after one too many impromptu cancellations by the Public Security Bureau, Mr. Zhang decided to move his festival. Zhenjiang, in Jiangsu Province, was willing not only to create festival grounds on an island in the Yangtze River but also to offer generous subsidies, a 10-year arrangement and a hands-off approach.
Mr. Zhang insisted on keeping ticket prices low, at $9 a day, and limiting corporate advertising. He also persuaded the government to relinquish control over content. “They also wisely heeded my advice and decided not to have local officials take the stage and address the audience,” Mr. Zhang said.
The result was a refreshingly spirited festival and a crowd that was as countercultural as they come in China. When a downpour turned green fields into brown goo, images of Woodstock came to mind, albeit without the overt sex and drugs.
Offstage, vendors hawked vintage Mao buttons, bunny ears, glow sticks, neon-colored clown wigs, penis-shaped water guns and stuffed “grass-mud horses,” a mythical creature that has become a protest symbol against Internet censorship.
Then there was Qian Cheng, 25, who had scrawled out a cheeky sign offering to sell himself for 5 yuan, about 75 cents, to any girl who would have him. Mr. Qian, a television station employee from central China, sat on a sheet of plastic surrounded by a dozen people he had just met — all of whom had found one another online. Asked what they had in common, Mr. Qian looked around with satisfaction. “We aren’t pretentious and we are true to ourselves,” he said. “And unlike those in the outside world, we aren't obsessed with looks and money.”
One notable accessory was red scarves — the kind meticulously knotted around the necks of Communist Party Young Pioneers. But these scarves were bound around arms or legs, or drawn across the face for a bandit look.
Chen Chen, 22, an architecture student, explained that the scarf, which schoolchildren learn represents the blood of martyrs, has come to denote membership in a tribe trying to carve out space in a society that demands absolute conformity. “It is a symbol of our devotion to pure rock and to the fight against oppression,” he said proudly.
Most festivals, however, embrace more mundane diversions: apolitical entertainment, a distraction from daily pressures and perhaps an opportunity to do some shopping. At the same time that the Midi masses were squishing through the mud in Zhenjiang, several thousand smartly dressed professionals in nearby Hangzhou were lounging on a manicured lawn at a 1950s-era cement plant that is now a government-run arts center.
Zebra, the company that staged the festival in Hangzhou, set up an arts and crafts market and a booth for exchanging unwanted possessions, to highlight the theme of sustainability. There were no red scarves, and the music, much of it of the Pop Idol variety, was easy on the ears.
Although she said the festival would probably lose money its first two years, Ms. Li of Zebra said she wanted to introduce the concept of the music festival and expose young Chinese to different kinds of music. And, she said of the musicians, “I want these kids to see that they can turn their talent into a career.”
But Yang Haisong of P.K.14 could not help but feel cynical as he looked around at the Modern Sky Music Festival in Beijing going on at the same time as the others. To his right was a Jägermeister tent; to his left, an enormous line of well-dressed people waiting for free Converse tote bags. Asked if he thought Chinese youth culture might be on the brink of a tectonic breakthrough, Mr. Yang smiled and shook his head.
“The government used to see us as dangerous,” he said. “Now they see us as a market.”

2010-10-7

As Japan Ages, Pop 'Idols' Aren't as Spry as They Used to Be
By DAN GRUNEBAUM
Published: October 7, 2010
TOKYO — Japanese culture is renowned for its obsession with the impermanence of beauty, and many a poem has honored the brief but perfect life of the cherry blossom.
In human terms, the Japanese “Christmas cake” maxim celebrates feminine beauty, but dictates that a woman is past her prime at 25, when she should avoid turning into leftover Christmas cake. In show business this has long meant that female pop “idols” should marry and retire by their early 20s.
But with the number of Japanese older than 65 rising from 7.1 percent of the population in 1970 to a world record 22.7 percent in 2009, the Christmas cake dictum is showing signs of age. The Christmas cake example is the singer Momoe Yamaguchi, whom Japan swooned over in the 1970s. After stealing the nation’s heart, she married in 1980 and disappeared forever into domestic bliss.
When “the Japanese Madonna,” Seiko Matsuda, declined to retire after marrying in her early 20s in 1985, she caused a minor cultural earthquake. But even now, at 48, as she celebrates 30 years in show business with a hits collection, she continues to sell records, leading some to re-dub her the “eternal idol.”
Today’s pop idols, Ayumi Hamasaki and Namie Amuro, are in their 30s, while the members of Japan’s most famous “boy band” SMAP are approaching 40.
On the small screen, Tokyo Broadcasting System’s “Around 40” drama series became a hit in 2008 with its examination of the issues confronting aging women, mainly through the character of a 39-year-old psychiatrist, Satoko Ogata, and her “arafo” (around 40) friends. The “Sex in the City”-inspired series spawned a cottage industry of commentary and arafo and even “arafaifu” (around 50) Web sites.
The question is: Does the increased presence of older music and screen stars in Japan indicate changing attitudes toward aging? The evidence is murky. 否定的
“For commercial purposes, it certainly is handy to have older ‘idols’ or ‘charisma’ figures,” said Keith Cahoon, a music industry veteran and the man who brought Tower Records to Japan. After decades of economic stagnation and limited job opportunities for the young, older Japanese consumers tend to possess more disposable income.
The phenomenon of the “Long Tail” retailing concept in marketing also allows entertainment companies to continue to promote aging artists at low cost. “It gives them perfectly targeted marketing at a fraction of what it used to,” said Mike Rogers, an entertainment blogger in Tokyo. “This allows ‘older’ artists to have much longer careers — if their management is smart enough to capitalize on this change in the marketplace.”
Others said that the Japanese entertainment world remained extremely ageist. They pointed to the disposable nature of young singers in such bands as the wildly popular AKB48, and the many deathbed scenes involving Alzheimer’s disease and cancer in Japanese films that feature aging stars.
If anything, SMAP’s ability to stay atop the heap may be due to changes in lifestyle rather than attitudes toward aging.
Mark Schilling, a film critic for Japan Times, said: “My feeling is that Takuya Kimura,” of SMAP, “and his generation of idols is better at hiding aging’s effects. The guy may be in his mid-30s, but he’s still got that lineless, beardless, pretty boy look. It’s nature’s gift, but impossible to maintain past a certain age minus the sort of care that an older generation, downing their nightly bottle of Suntory Old and smoking their daily two packs of Mild Sevens, would have considered unmanly.”
Still, while there has long been a market for older actresses playing long-suffering wives and feisty grandmas, film and television franchises like “Around 40” are now presenting over-35 actresses playing sexually active women.
Robert Schwartz, a correspondent here for the music magazine Billboard, said the pop scene was witnessing a similar acceptance of older talents. “It’s very clear,” he said, “that both the music industry and popular tastes are changing in Japan to accept pop stars who are over 30 and even middle-aged.” He cited the resurgence of the singer Hideaki Tokunaga, who, at 49, this spring became the first male artist to have at least one album to top the weekly charts in each of the last four decades.
Kohtaroh Asoh, a reporter for Nikkei Entertainment and the author of “Shinka Suru Aidoru” (The Evolving Idol), noted the overwhelming dominance of women in shaping popular entertainment tastes. “When women became financially independent, they no longer had to marry in their 20s,” he said. “They now put off marriage till their 30s and their pop idols reflect this. Nontraditional single mothers like Namie Amuro are even viewed as trendsetters.”
But Mr. Asoh said he believed there was another reason for the way in which female identification with older idols is influencing the entertainment world — the abandonment of the field by men. “Idols used to have an equal number of male and female fans,” he said. “But when adult video exploded in the ’80s, men no longer needed idols as the objects of their sexual fantasies.”
Nostalgia also may play a role in the current prominence of aging talents in Japan’s entertainment industry. Roland Kelts, media commentator and author of the book “Japanamerica,” said Japanese baby boomers were seeking reassurance from aging stars in the way Western fans have for years. “There’s a point at which rock and pop stop being celebrations of youth, rebellion and forward-thinking,” he said, “and start becoming celebrations of themselves — a way of confirming that they the entertainers, and we the fans,” are still relevant.
Whether a softening of ageism is occurring or not is ultimately unanswerable without conducting an opinion poll. But as older Japanese increasingly shape the media, the transformation of the entertainment industry may point the way for other rapidly aging Asian nations with close cultural norms.
“The population might be getting older,” said Alan Swartz, a vice president of MTV Japan, “but there are probably more people than ever who are young in spirit.”