What I learned from a vocaloid and 1500 screaming millennials
Last night I went to a Hatsune Miku concert with my daughter, Ribh.
Miku is a vocaloid.
I know? What the hell does that mean?
A vocaloid is the personification (via an anime hologram) of a vocal sample. Yes, an electronic music file.
There is a HUGE (and I mean hella huge) industry in anime around using vocal samples, adding instrumentation (electronica), altering it all in fascinating ways and then packaging it in the persona of the ultimate pop star, a singing anime princess hologram.
Miku is every promoter’s dream. She is beautiful. She oozes sex appeal. She is an amazing dancer who nails every single move. She can change her outfit with the flip of an electronic switch. She never gets vocal fatigue or fights with her boyfriend or shaves her head or flashes the press.
Miku rarely tours, but when she does, thousands show up with the full might of one million pineal glands (that’s where raging hormones come from folks) to revel in the sound and light show that it is watch a 10 foot hologram perform “live”.
Miku is computer program that makes people cry, laugh, and fork over fistfuls of cash.
Miku can even teach this old dog some new tricks.
Here’s what I learned by attending my first Hatsune Miku show.
1. Context is always helpful for a new experience. When observing an endless stream of cosplayers, it is helpful to have an 11-year-old guide who knows who and what each character is, and can provide you with a running commentary.
2. Even holograms have giant tour buses. Really.
3. Scarcity sells. Miku has only toured one other time in North America and very rarely in Asia. People get extremely engaged knowing that this might be their only chance to ‘see” her.
4. Everybody can find a community to fit their interests. And I mean EVERYONE.
5. Each community will have interesting rituals. I discovered that Vocaloid concerts have an intense and sophisticated culture around glow sticks. (I know. Right?) As we entered the concert we were given a “typical snap and glow” glow stick. BUT at least half the audience had brought their own glow sticks. These were not just any glow sticks. These were electronic glow sticks which never dulled in brightness and which could be changed to different colors to match the light show and the color scheme of the vocaloid who was performing. Additionally, the light sticks were used by the entire audience to “dance” or “conduct” or “express” the music together in unison.
6. Here’s what’s interesting about the light show. With our glow sticks, we were PART OF THE PERFORMANCE. We WERE the light show and it was amazing. It reminded me how easy it is to engage people if you make them PART of the show.
7. People will spend an insane amount of money on paraphernalia that reminds them of something they love and identifies them as part of that tribe.The merch line was the longest I have ever seen. Ever.
8. Millennials love to dress up and participate. Hell, people love to dress up and participate. The audience was NOT a load of 11-year-olds. It was mostly 17 to 25-year-olds. Miku is not a kid thing. This was a tribe thing. I have to admit, I never figured out exactly what the tribe was identifying with, but it was SOMETHING and it was powerful. It has to do with number 4 above, but I cannot yet figure out the details.
9. I was fascinated at first, and then after I had looked at everything I quickly became bored. That is odd because as a musician and performer, I love to observe performances of all kind. There is always something to learn in the way the act works together, expresses themselves and connects to the audience. This show had none of that. Yes, there was a live band, but they were in the dark (literally) and just keeping up with the pre-recorded main vocal track. The main performer couldn’t connect to the audience. She was a perfect recording. She might be an impressive 10-foot tall anime princess but what she lacked was soul. You cannot connect with an audience if you don’t expose a little piece of your soul.
10. Without risk, the reward is weak. While Miku’s performance was flawless, it was flat as hell. There was no story. She never lost her breath, or flubbed a dance move. She had no messy middle (you know how important that is to the story). There was no payoff for me in the audience because there was no risk being taken by the performer.
Most of the audience didn’t seem to mind the parts I found lacking. I think maybe they found the soul of the event in their own performance and contribution via cosplay and light show dancing. It was more like a tribal gathering than a concert. There WAS connection and risk and messy middle going on, but it was all happening in the HOUSE rather than on stage.
This Gen X-er is still struggling to get it, but it really doesn’t matter if I “get” it. Its not for me. I’m not in the tribe. I’m a culture anthropologist observing.
THE TAKEWAY
Great performance are about connection to an audience and connection between performer and audience only really happens when the performer takes a risk and shows us a real part of their soul.
When we want to connect, we must fight to tell stories that matter and bare our souls. Stories are what connect and bind us and allow us to find our commonality.
We must remember however, story sharing might happen in a different way than we expect. Miku taught me that. Different people and different generations connect in different ways.
And THAT is a conversation worth having.