Karaoke is arguably Japan's greatest musical contribution to the world, and certainly its best known. Since its invention in the mid-1970s, the electronic sing-along system has won over millions of amateur crooners around the world. But karaoke remains largely an Asian phenomenon, enjoying far greater popularity in the nightclubs and living rooms of China and Myanmar than in those of Norway or Canada. The disproportionate receptiveness of East and West to karaoke reveals significant contrasts in socialization and value systems—Asians emphasize participating and "making a sincere effort," whereas Westerners tend to view karaoke as a kind of talent contest from which the less musically gifted had best abstain. Nevertheless, karaoke's merits as a form of entertainment as well as an important tool for doing business in Japan are gaining recognition in the United States and Europe, and it is no exaggeration to say that karaoke, as a part of today's global pop culture, holds out the promise of improving relations between the two civilizations.
Karaoke and Consensus Building
For Asians, it has been said, karaoke is an electric geisha—a modern invention that plays the socializing role traditionally performed by a hostess, who employs her entertainment skills to draw out guests and establish camaraderie. Westerners, on the other hand, tend to see an evening of karaoke as a talent contest rather than as an opportunity to enhance communication. In his book The Electric Geisha, Kunihiro Narumi asserts that differences in the socialization rituals of Japanese and Westerners account for these varying views of karaoke: "Unlike
Western parties, where people usually entertain themselves with conversation and dancing, Japanese gatherings often slide into venues for guests to display their lesser-known talents."1
When practiced in a Japanese cultural context, karaoke epitomizes ringisei, a method of conducting meetings in which participants aim to achieve consensus rather than score points. Ringisei-style consensus building should not, however, be mistaken for self-effacing conformity. As psychiatrist Takeo Doi writes in his best-seller, The Anatomy of Self, ringisei is rather "an instinctual sense that the support of the group is indispensable for the individual,"2 and this sense pervades Japanese-style karaoke.
In Japan the good salaryman is also a good karaoke participant. He is never so horrible a singer as to irritate his colleagues, yet he is not necessarily vocally blessed. Having practiced a wide repertoire of songs, he is prepared to accommodate any audience with his talents, however limited. If he is called upon to play the role of the host, he may be the first to step up to the microphone, but he will wait until everybody has had his turn before he selects a second round of songs. He has already memorized his boss's favorites and chooses one of these to save his superior the appearance of being overly eager. He may elect to sing medleys by popular singers to allow others to join in. If spirits start to sag, he might wail a nostalgic tune in falsetto. Like a good emcee, finally, he can be counted upon to make appropriate compliments or jokes after each person's performance to show appreciation.
Singing for Success
A karaoke master is likely to be successful in business, according to research by Daniel Goleman, a former Harvard University psychologist. In his landmark work Emotional Intelligence: Why It Matters More Than IQ, Goleman focuses on the behavior of individuals in group settings and reaches conclusions of no little interest to practitioners of karaoke. He introduces the concept of an "emotional quotient" (EQ) expressing, among other factors, nonverbal sensitivity—the ability to "read" a social situation and act appropriately. Goleman's research shows that people with a high EQ tend to be more successful at work and in relationships. The kind of karaoke-competent salaryman described above would, according to this thesis, need only to apply his superior social skills on the job to move ahead. On the basis of evidence provided by personnel executives, Goleman argues that "IQ gets you hired, but EQ gets you promoted. Those workers who were good collaborators and
networkers and popular with colleagues were more likely to get the cooperation they needed to reach their goals."3
But for the noninitiated—or the emotionally challenged—karaoke can be a daunting proposition. Indeed, karaoke overturns the stereotypes of the nonexpressive, inscrutable Oriental and the outgoing, flamboyant Westerner. In a karaoke club, these roles are reversed: If he is anything less than a Pavarotti, the Westerner is the one who shies away from the spotlight, while the Asian takes command of the situation.
To respond to the needs of those business people who want to sing their way to better relations with their Japanese counterparts, karaoke courses are now offered in many Asian and American cities. What is stressed above all is the importance of participation—not singing amounts to the cardinal sin of refusing to join the group. Another faux pas to which foreigners are alerted is singing English-language songs familiar to Japanese. Songs that one's hosts are likely to sing themselves—"My Way," "Yesterday," or anything by Elvis Presley, for example—should be avoided. Explains a bicultural business consultant, "The chances are you've chosen the one song they can sing in English and taken away their opportunity to impress you." Short of memorizing a Japanese song, he recommends Beatles tunes like "Eleanor Rigby," songs that are too fast paced for a typical Japanese to master yet are still well known.
Participation versus Exhibition.
Mastering karaoke is not necessarily a shortcut to sealing a business deal, but it is in any case an activity that enhances one's emotional intelligence—a universal virtue in the business world. Westerners should abandon any embarrassment over a lack of vocal talent, because in karaoke it is not the most musically gifted who are most highly regarded. To the contrary, someone who dominates the microphone is likely to be branded a showoff. Simply put, doryoku (sincere effort) rather than ability is what Japanese value in a karaoke singer.
That this is so is made clear by the karaoke contests that can be found on Japanese television almost any day of the week. Objectively skillful singers represent only a minority of those selected to appear; they are accompanied by adorable children, funny old men, chatty middle-aged women, and strangely dressed teenagers, all of whom sing without compunction and are appreciated for their contribution to the entertainment. Westerners grow up with the mentality that those without talent should remain on the sidelines, and karaoke illustrates that this lesson is inter-
nalized relatively early in life. In Tokyo teenagers like to get together at cheap karaoke "boxes" (small rooms with a karaoke system), where everyone, regardless of singing skills, takes a turn with the microphone. Among karaoke-inclined young people of the same age in San Francisco, "freestyling" is popular: a small group gathers around a microphone and spontaneously creates a rap song. One member begins the rap, then passes the microphone to the next. The recipient must continue the rap in perfect rhythm and rhyme before passing it along to the next person. Usually the participants are joined by friends who watch and cheer them on. Although Japanese-style karaoke is not as creative as freestyling, everyone can take part, regardless of talent; in freestyling there is an obvious distinction between those with talent and those who remain spectators. In this sense, Japanese are better than Americans at practicing the American ideal of "all are created equal."
Notes of Discord—Or Harmony?
Despite its value as a source of entertainment and means of building camaraderie, karaoke has at times been the target of artistic and other criticisms. Karaoke has been blamed for lowering the quality of Japanese music. The music industry, the argument runs, is forced to churn out simplistic tunes that are easy for sing-along sessions because karaoke hits mean big profits. Indeed, "serious" musicians sometimes dismiss karaoke as not being music at all. The legendary late Asian songstress Teresa Tang, for instance, disdained to sing karaoke-style medleys. Other critics have even gone so far as to label the lack of artistic creativity in Japanese society the "karaokization" of its culture.
In the rest of Asia, furthermore, karaoke has not necessarily contributed to consensus building. Although Asians quickly made the sing-along system one of their most popular pastimes, they seem to enjoy karaoke primarily because it can be practiced in cramped quarters and because it offers a way to release the accumulated stress of urban life. Among many, the Western idea of karaoke as a talent contest prevails. A Canadian working in Hong Kong relates that, after he won the karaoke contest at his company's annual Christmas party, several Chinese co-workers refused to speak to him for weeks. The latter were well-practiced karaoke artists who were miffed about losing out to a foreigner who, despite the inferior quality of his vocals, impressed the audience by crooning a popular song in Mandarin.
Japanese innovations in the domain of audio technology that swept the world, karaoke must be seen as a positive social development. In short, the Walkman isolates and the boom box domineers—but karaoke unites.
The Walkman culture can be seen on the crowded commuter trains of Tokyo and Osaka, where headphoned riders sway in complete self- absorption. It is a culture of noncommunication, lacking courtesy and interaction. The boom box, on the other hand, might be seen as a
representative of certain "Western" patterns of behavior: aggressively assertive, at times to the point of distracting and irritating others. Too many boom boxes blasting away in a public place mean cacophony and chaos. The boom box articulates the language of friction—shouting rather than communicating.
By building consensus among participants and stressing listening as well as expression, karaoke brings people together, establishing a middle ground between isolation and domination. While karaoke can be a forum for discord, in such a setting even this conflict of egos can be the first step toward genuine communication. As the popularity of karaoke continues to increase in both East and West, it may portend deeper understanding and amelioration of relations between these two cultures.
Western circles have not been slow to recognize this possibility and, more generally speaking, the aforementioned social virtues of karaoke. Writing in The Electric Geisha, Narumi noted that when karaoke was presented at the New Town World Forum in Osaka, a group of Germans were interested in the idea of using the sing-along system as a means of developing community spirit in apartment complexes where people feel
isolated or alienated from their neighbors.4
It can thus be seen that Japan's sociocultural influence on today's global pop culture should not be underestimated. Although this culture is widely interpreted as a creation of the United States and Europe, Japan is making a notable contribution as a provider of electronic hardware and musical software, and karaoke holds out the potential of becoming an especially important catalyst for this process of cultural unification.
Notes
1. Kunihiro Narumi, The Electric Geisha (Tokyo: Kodansha International, 1994).
2. Takeo Doi, The Anatomy of Self, trans. Mark A. Harbison (Tokyo: Kodansha International, 1986). 3. Daniel Goleman, Emotional Intelligence: Why It Matters More Than IQ (New York: Bantam, 1995). 4. Narumi, Electric Geisha.