At first glance, Sora Tob Sakana is aimed squarely at the pre-teen market. After all, the pop group's four members are 14 to 16-year-old girls who sport ponytails and cutesy frilly dresses and pump out bubblegum tunes accompanied by wobbly dancing.
Yet at a festival of similar "idol" bands in Yokohoma on July 9, the fans were mostly single men aged between 20 and 50 who might well describe themselves as otaku - nerds. When asked, some men say they do not need to marry; their idols give them the romantic fulfilment they need.
Creepy? It is true, says Rei Kazama, one of the band members, looking slightly uncomfortable, that many of the fans are ojisan - middle-aged blokes. She would prefer a younger audience. But, she adds, the ojisan are supportive: "It's like they're nurturing us as we grow up." Purity, a band manager says, is a selling point. The girls are under contract not to have boyfriends - presumably to encourage fans to project their own fantasies on to their favourite band members. (When a member of Japan's biggest selling idol band, AKB48, recently announced that she was leaving to get married, fans were as outraged as jilted lovers.) Also essential is offering fans the chance to meet band members, including photographs and 20-second handshakes. It is all part of the setto, as in a set menu, and can cost ¥4000 ($35) a pop. The promoters have found lots of ways to part otaku from their money. This is the more palatable end of Japan's striking knack for transmuting sexual urges into efficient industries. Akihabara, Tokyo's mecca for manga and anime, is also the heart of a fetish for schoolgirls and their uniforms. There, in "JK salons" (joshi kosei means high school girl) a young woman in uniform will tell your fortune. Or, for ¥3000 for 20 minutes, you can lie next to her. In many places that is all you may do. But sex is on offer if otaku know where to look. A new city ordinance barring girls of 17 or younger from working in the JK business may serve only to drive it underground - or on to the internet.
It is, to many, proof of the misogyny of Japanese society: often demeaning and sometimes dangerous to women. Yet some sociologists argue that life in Japan is not much fun for men, either. As evidence, they point to the decline of marriage and romantic relationships. Three-fifths of men between the ages of 25 and 35 remain unmarried. A survey by the research arm of Meiji Yasuda, an insurer, found that 53 per cent of men in their 20s had never gone out (vaguely defined) with a woman; in contrast, 64 per cent of American men claim to have had sex by the age of 20.
Labour practices forged during a high-growth industrial era do men no favours. Male-dominated workforces are expected to put in long hours, often without overtime pay - and then stay drinking in smoky bars with the boss until the last train home. The assumption is that employees have a spouse who is a full-time housewife. But even young employees lucky enough to be on permanent contracts struggle to raise a family on a single income.
As for the growing "precariat" of young Japanese men on non-permanent contracts - forget it. Now that women have more, if hardly stellar, work options, they can afford to hold out for a better partner; that is, one earning a good salary. In canvassing opinion among unmarried women seeking a partner, ¥7m a year seems a common floor among the better educated.
