

In manga kissas - private rooms where friends pull manga off the stacks while snacking and drinking - karaoke is the neverending soundtrack. It’s a major draw at sunakku (snack bars), where strangers learn one another’s names through the magic of the karaoke machine. It’s alive in the hundreds of thousands of private-room karaoke boxes, where glowing tambourines and mics fuel seemingly endless nights (the nomihōdai, or “all-you-can-drink” option, also helps). In Japan, karaoke is a way of life embedded in the cultural fabric. Then, as now, it was a social balm and an excuse for revelry in good times and bad. When Kobe-based musician Daisuke Inoue debuted the first karaoke machine in Japan back in the ‘70s, it became an enduring national pastime, a collective release during an oppressively bleak financial crisis.
