H!P in Japan: Be careful what you wish for

From left, Miyabi, Hagiwara, Risako, Nono, Suzuki, Momoko and Maimi in the middle of the Hello Project Winter 2007 concert at Yokohama Arena. A year later, in the same place, they were even more adorable (oops, except for Nono, who became a mommy).

There’s an awesome scene in the 1980s movie "Star Trek III: The Search for Spock," in which the Uhura character played by Nichelle Nichols puts a young whippersnapper in his place. The guy made a remark along the lines of wanting “adventure” in his Starfleet career, and Uhura, as part of a conspiracy to steal the Enterprise and, eventually, rescue Mr. Spock, turns the tables on this guy, points a phaser straight at his head and says: “How’s this for adventure? “ But before she pulls the weapon on him, she says the fateful line: “Be careful what you wish for. You may get it.”

That is where I stand right now. It’s been a month since Yokohama and Tokyo, since Hello Project and AKB48, and I have yet to come to grips with the dream that came true. And it came true in a way that so far exceeded my expectations that it defies any definition of how that experience must now fit into current reality.

It’s just like that scene in "Galaxy Quest," that silly sci-fi Star Trek spoof where the convention geeks suddenly realize that it’s not just a show – but that “it’s real.” For the many loyal fans of Hello Project and Japanese idol music overall who have never seen these H!P kids live, they’re actually lucky in a sense. Because, yes, it is not an otaku or wota fantasy. These singers are real. When you see and hear them, there goes the fantasy, and in rushes the reality. And the impact of that reality doesn’t wear off with time. In fact, when the DVD sets arrive later in March, I’m almost afraid to watch. All those memories are going to flood back into my head, and like Capt. Kirk in the one Star Trek episode in which a mind-control machine nearly drains his brain, I might not be able to take it.

Morning Musume tore it up just as much on Jan. 26-27 of this year as they did in this performance of “Love Machine” that wrapped up 2007’s show. From left are Kusumi, Aichan, Reina and Eri.

Blogging colleague [/b]Zush[/i] warned me about this and I didn’t listen. He said, basically, that you “feel the fever” as the concert approaches – physically feel more alive, yet somewhat agitated and unstable. What he didn’t tell me was that this “fever” envelops your very soul, and doesn’t go away after the cheering stops.

The first night of the Hello Project Winter 2008 Awards Show at Yokohama Arena, Saturday, Jan. 26, my seat was 20 rows back in the middle section, at a right-side angle. Immediately, you could sense that the air had been humidified and warmed, like preheating an oven. A manufactured, misty fog hovered over the main stage. I was told later that sound carries better, and clearer, with higher interior humidity. Hmm, you learn something new every day.

The show went on, everybody stood, and, well, what more can be said? When you see one of these epic concerts without the jittery over-editing done by the videogeeks at UFA on the DVDs, the eye doesn’t wander. It gazes into an infinite cascade of color and motion that cannot be described.

It’s not only the singers, who are so magnificent when seen live. It’s the sweeping, synchronized crowd. What is missing from the DVDs is the canyon-like expanse of the upper bowl of Yokohama Arena where, at the top level, thousands of polite family members and gangs of squirming kids are made to sit quietly (they can still wave their glowsticks, or “lights” as the otaku call them), but there is no doubt about one obvious fact: None of those people in the upper deck want anything to do with being any closer than that. Like the gaggle of rubberneckers who gather to watch a burning building, the upper-deckers take great care to shy away from the dangerous, high-octane heat being generated on that concert floor.

This massive rendition of ‘Morning Curry’ helped finish off the Hello Project 2007 Winter concert at Yokohama Arena, and it was even bigger this past Jan. 26-27.

OK, so let’s go to Day 2 and what I anticipated would be a monotonous bore at watching the same show two more times. What a miscalculation that was. On the Sunday, Jan. 27, matinee, I sat on the opposite side, 19 rows up, to the extreme left of the stage – but right beside a railing – and what a tremendous break that turned out to be! Just below, immediately behind one of the launch pads, was a video cameraman, with what appeared to be a 6-inch thick script with every lighting cue, every position of every singer during every second of the show. And he was calmly thumbing through it and not really paying much attention to the wide angles popping up on his camera monitor.

Earlier, I swung by a camera shop near the arena and grabbed a pair of $20 opera glasses (nitrogen-filled to increase sharpness, only available in Japan I was told) . I'm glad I did. The views I was able to get at that angle brought tears to my eyes. Added bonus: Scoping out the camera guy's script.

Then it hit me why the camera guy was so lackadaisical. This was really the second of two dress rehearsals, tech-wise, just like “tech week” before a live theater play where all the lighting and sound have to get straightened out. None of the camera positions appeared to be shooting – except for a crazy boom camera zig-zagging all over the place gobbling up as many crowd shots as he could. Maybe that was it – the matinee was "crowd-shot time."

Right behind me all during Day 2’s matinee was a group of 8-10 otaku crazies. They all sat down, took off their shirts, and put on their day-glo scarlet soccer-like jerseys with white upside-down numbers and a Morning Musume member’s name on each. They were asskickers in every sense of the word throughout the show. It was nuts, but everyone loved it. They had their own choreography going on each song and were a sideshow in and of themselves. I will never see anything to compare to this as long as I live. And, of course, they had their obligatory blizzard of glowsticks churning through the heavy, fogged air.

Got whacked on top of the head with an errant glowstick, and it caused me to cut my lower lip. A mark of honor, a red badge of courage.

Otaku crowds queue up to Yokohama Arena’s entrance hours before the Jan. 26 Hello Project Winter 2008 concert.

And then, the grand finale – the night show on Day 2. Sound and lighting were clearly adjusted from the first two shows. All 20 video cameras were armed and ready to capture every amazing moment. Even the still-camera guys with their bazooka-sized telephoto lenses milled around us on the floor to get the best angles of the three launch pads and stage.

Yes, we were on the floor. On ... the ... floor. Twelve seats from the middle walkway, about 25 feet at the most, where almost every Hello Project singer took her turn staring you down. We lucked out in so many ways down there. Facing the main stage, we were 25 feet right from the middle walkway, about 35 feet to the left from the right launch pad; the middle launch pad across the stage was a mere 35 feet away to our left and rear. Lord, the sight lines were such that a bevy of singers would gaze straight at us during any particular number.

A businessman in front of us donned two five-point pink glowstick gloves and got so crazy he almost collapsed and had to sit down. He became pallid and clammy. His horn-rimmed glasses drooped down his nose. I thought he had had a stroke or heart attack. He did recover. Scary moment.

Again, you just can’t appreciate these types of observations on the DVDs, which are dedicated to showing as many close-ups of these singers as is humanly possible (and they do a darn good job of showing them, I must say).

Of course, from the bottom of that well, looking up, you could see the massive rainbow-hued glowstick tapestry dancing all around the place. I recall thinking: Damn. That’s something you don’t see every day.

I don’t remember much after that.

Just be careful what you wish for. You may get it.

This is Rad signing off – for now.