Melodies for Rebels
I love Japanese pop music. J-pop, those are the anthems of my small, private, messed-up world. The Japanese music industry doesn’t care whether I listen to the songs or not. Whether I worship the stars or not. Whether I watch the music videos or not. They are not marketed to me through TV ads and radio slots and newsletters. I don’t exist for them. I can piece together their meaning on my own. I know nothing about their scandals, their problems, or their rumors. J-pop is a huge, personal playlist. Just for me and folks who are a little bit different as well. Its emotional range has something ready for every situation in my life. For dancing. For laughing. For crying. And one of the modern greats of this musical wonder world doesn’t even exist anymore: BiSH.
Girl groups belong to Japan like sushi, sake, and an underwear fetish. The ensembles called idol groups, AKB48, Nogizaka46, or Passpo, show up anywhere and everywhere. On television, on the radio, on billboards, in constant rotation. In metropolises like Tokyo, Kyoto, or Osaka you can hardly escape their perfect smiles. In smaller cities there are often local copies of the big role models, not quite so thoroughly styled. The band BiSH went at it a little harder than the well-known groupings. Situated somewhere between Scandal, Stereopony, and Morning Musume, Aina The End, Cent Chihiro Chittiii, Momoko Gumi Company, Lingling, Hashiyasume Atsuko, and Ayuni D tried to bless the Far Eastern music world with an audiovisual alternative.
They were not anti, not opposed, not averse to the cliché - quite the opposite. The members of BiSH, an abbreviation for Brand-new idol SHiT, made the sweet idolhood their own, and for that very reason sometimes didn’t seem like themselves. Whether that is good or bad, their homeland decided long ago. There they are unforgettable. Songs like PAiNT it BLACK, SMACK baby SMACK, and GiANT KiLLERS have made the girls of BiSH immortal. Their afterglow lingers: Evidence that candy-coated idol shine and a rougher bite can make something that sticks, even after the band is gone for good and only its voices remain. I can still hear their songs in convenience stores, karaoke rooms, and late-night variety shows. And, of course, BiSH will live on in my private playlists - forever.