Japan has given much to world culture. Kimono, anime, sushi and ikebana are just some of the words that have become so well-known abroad they don't even need translating. But one pastime has come in the past few decades to represent Japan perhaps more authentically than any other activity -- and that's karaoke (or as English speakers prefer to pronounce it, "carryokey.") Chantez ce soir avec le karaoke! Das Karaoke erfreut sich in Deutschland immer wachsender Beliebtheit! Ciao amore per karaoke! And so on, in every language from Finnish to Farsi. The magical machine that for better or worse encourages people to think they can sing may well be this country's most successful cultural export ever.
And its popularity overseas has been nothing compared to its standing here, the land where someone first dreamed up an apparatus that would play the musical accompaniment to a song minus the vocals, letting would-be Elvises and Madonnas step into the spotlight. (Its precise origin is disputed, but all sources seem to date it back to the early '70s, most likely in Kobe.) At its peak, according to the All-Japan Karaoke Industrialist Association, the number of people visiting Japan's karaoke establishments was almost 60 million. That's as many people as live in Britain or Thailand today.
But here's the problem for the brave little sing-a-long machine: That peak came in 1994. It might be hard to believe, since karaoke bars and boxes are still as thick on the ground as cherry blossoms in April, but the number of customers has dropped nearly 20 percent in the nine recession-darkened years since then, and the number of karaoke outlets has fallen by 16 percent. Unfortunately, the association's spokesperson predicts even quieter times ahead for the once-booming pastime, at least in Japan.