Team i-O Correspondent
Normally, when I think of karaoke in the US, unsavory images of off-key, drunken losers in smoky redneck bars come to mind. But when I went to Okinawa in 2001, I became addicted to karaoke!
We all know that karaoke originated in Japan more than twenty years ago, so we can blame the Japanese for the aforementioned phenomenon. It makes sense, though, that karaoke - which means “empty orchestra” - would have taken root in Japan, a country that has a long tradition of singing at parties and partying after work and singing while getting drunk at after-work parties. In other words, they were destined to invent karaoke! I would venture a guess that most Americans - sober ones, at least - are too self conscious to stand in front of a room full of strangers and sing. That’s why I don’t like karaoke in America. Karaoke in Japan, however, offers a private alternative to public embarrassment.
As the Japanese do with practically everything they (or anyone else, for that matter) produce, they made improvements on the original concept of singing with an empty orchestra. According to karaokescene.com, the popularity of karaoke had grown beyond its salaryman constructs and permeated throughout Japanese society so that karaoke “sets” were created for family singing enjoyment in the comforts of one’s own home. In Japan since one’s own home usually means extremely close to one’s neighbor’s home, there was yet another improvement: the karaoke “box.” The first such box “appeared in 1984 in a rice field in Okayama prefecture” and was a converted freight car, hence the name. (from karaokescene.com) As this concept became a more feasible option for the bashful singer prone to stage fright, the box car was left behind for a more solid construction, which is what I found myself in one night in Kunigami-son, Okinawa.
Three aunts, one uncle, two cousins, my mother, my husband and I wandered into a quiet restaurant for a little after-dinner karaoke. Expecting the scene to be more like US karaoke bars, I had no idea what was going on when the waitress ushered us into a room equipped with a large tv, a long table with benches and a remote-controlled air conditioner. “Where is everyone else?,” I wondered. The waitress brought us drinks and snacks and more drinks when I finally realized that it was a PRIVATE KARAOKE ROOM! Just for us! My uncle sang traditional Okinawan tunes - he and my aunt even sang a duet - my aunts danced, my cousins sang J-pop, and I felt so comfortable in that setting that I could sing songs that I would never sing in front of anyone anywhere. I sang songs by people I like, people I don’t like, cheesy show tunes, everything! Even my husband, Marc, who steadfastly refused to sing before he even got out of my uncle’s car, was singing. My mother was the only stick in the mud - “I no can sing,” she said - but I did spy her tapping her hands on the table and at least mouthing the words to a couple of the songs my aunts sang. A good time was had by all!
What struck me was the overall appeal karaoke has. A 71-year-old Okinawan man and his 32-year-old niece could bond through the universal language of karaoke, even if neither one understood what the other was singing. (Incidentally, my uncle is one of those people who enjoys karaoke in the comforts of his own home with a karaoke set machine. He and his fellow taxi drivers occasionally have singing contests, so he uses the set to practice.)
One night in a karaoke box, and I was hooked. After a week in Okinawa, Marc and I met up with friends in Tokyo and sang at a karaoke box in Shinjuku. Then we went to Osaka and had the courage to enter a Big Echo - by ourselves! We returned to Naha 10 days later to retrieve my mother, who had stayed behind to attend a class reunion. We told another cousin of mine all about our adventures in karaoke, so he and his wife took us to yet another karaoke box in Itoman! The addiction continued when Marc and I returned in 2002; we sang karaoke with my cousins at least three nights during our stay!
I like the personalized nature of the karaoke box. You don’t have to wait around for an hour or more while a bunch of strangers sing crappy songs you don’t want to hear while you’re waiting for your turn at the mic. You’re in your own room being served food and drinks by a pleasant waiter or waitress who is nothing but helpful when you realize that the only Japanese you know is “This is a book,” and “The section chief is going to the Osaka branch office tomorrow by train,” and not “How do I use this controller to enter the song I want to sing?” The whole experience is a Japanese lesson in itself. Karaoke introduced me to a new style of music, and it has sparked within me an interest in traditional Okinawan music as well as J-pop. I also like trying my hand at an Okinawan tune because it helps me practice my Japanese, and I’ve actually learned to recognize new Kanji.
Marc did some research and found a few karaoke boxes in NYC, mostly run by Japanese and Koreans. Generally, the concept of the karaoke box is rather unknown here in North America, but you can find them in many cities like Montreal or LA, usually in Asian communities. So, if you feel like singing but are weary of the typical US karaoke environment, go out and find a karaoke box. Maybe you’ll become addicted, too.