Just like everybody else, only more so
National character, rock music, and convenience store sweets
*if you enjoy this piece, please read my quasi-sequel, on the structure of culture in Japan – it touches on some of the same themes.
There is a recent episode of Hardcore History podcast that contained the notion that the Japanese are “just like everybody else, only more so” – the phrase itself is attributed to the late Lionel Blue, a British rabbi, as a description of Jewish people. The phrase seems to have become something akin to a self-deprecating in-joke among the Jewish, but Dan Carlin applied the notion to the Japanese, who, in wartime, had taken characteristics that are ordinarily perceived as desirable in a national character – patriotism, selfless sacrifice to the greater good, steely determination to win – and heightened them to unprecedented, extreme, qualitatively distinct levels.
I’m not one to swallow overly sweeping cultural statements whole-hog. Generally, most people in most countries are alternately selfish and good, and respond to the same basic universal triggers (needs and wants), just with different emphases - in terms of what the specifics of those triggers are, and how strongly they are felt. That said, there is something to the idea that Japan seems to produce a large number of people who are very dedicated to their specific cause or interest.
One might point at the long-hours corporate (so-called slave) culture here, or at the worlds of artisans dedicating their whole lives to the perfection and continuation of the tradition of performing a very specific, esoteric folk craft (basket-weaving, brush calligraphy, or washi paper-making, say, or pottery produced for a specific aim such as tea ceremonies) – but the most quotidian example might be music fandom.
I lived and worked in London until 2015, and during that time, a famous (by some definitions) Northern Irish guitarist named Gary Moore passed away. I worked at a London media agency at the time, and I became fascinated by the fact that nobody around me had any idea who this guy was. He was well-known in his day, with hits such as “Parisienne Walkways” and “Over The Hills And Far Away” that charted in the UK, and he also had a stint playing with Thin Lizzy, one of the British Isles’ biggest musical exports in the 1970s and the most famous Irish rock band. Far from finding fellow souls to commiserate about losing another of the old guard, the experience ended up being more about the embarrassment of outing myself as someone who was into – *shudders* – dad rock.
By way of contrast, working in a marketing agency in Tokyo – a roughly similar company of a roughly similar size – I would regularly and openly have conversations with people about topics including the 30-year back catalogue of progressive metal band Dream Theater, or English ‘60s folk band Pentangle. Having lunch with a colleague in a soba restaurant in Ginza, I once got into a deep conversation about the artistic merits of the early studio output of art-rock artist Kate Bush. And we lunchers were both too young to have experienced Kate Bush in her heyday.
Note that this richness of appreciations hasn't extended to the production of the rock music itself. Japan has produced few-to-nil world-beating artists as a nation. But many of the most avid merchandise and record collectors in the world are here in Japan, and most famous rock artists have a “Live In Japan” album. When it comes to rock fandom, the Japanese are into it, like everyone else, only more so. (… ever heard of Big in Japan?)
The reason these things are running through my mind is something very specific that I saw earlier this week in my local convenient store.
Similarly to the rock music examples, Japan is not the world leader when it comes to exporting and scaling its own food products the world over, in an industrial sense (apart from the notable outliers of Nissin cup noodles and MSG). The likes of Nestlé, Kraft, and McDonalds are (of course) the leaders in the development of highly formulated recipes and their delivery along industrial supply chains to markets on a global scale.
However, it’s in Japan that Nestlé’s Kit Kats have launched over 300 limited-edition seasonal and regional flavours. McDonalds, too, launches many unique products that can only be bought in Japan. This is a reflection on the trend-focused and demanding nature of the Japanese consumer.
On the other hand, have you ever seen anything as specific as this from the global food giants, an example from confectioner Kanro? Photographed at my local Family Mart convenience store:
Kanro’s “enjoy the fun of 3 textures” gummys, aka “confectionery as science experiment”
Who is this for? This isn’t for people who merely like sweets – it’s for gummy connoisseurs. It’s for people who want to try three different firmnesses of gummy in sequence, and to go through the experience without the distraction of experiencing different flavours for each gummy. To solve this issue, the manufacturer uses the same grape flavour to serve as a constant (the “control variable”) for the taster to be able to better isolate the differences in the texture and mouth feel (the “dependent variable”). It even comes complete with a hypothesis (“trying three textures is fun”) plastered on the front of the packaging. It invites the buyer to challenge the hypothesis through a “control vs exposed” type quasi-scientific experiment.
This is food as some kind of low-level scientific experiment, something akin to a wine or cheese tasting, where different constituents of taste are explored in isolation and in combination – and yes, as a reminder, these are gelatinous sweets, but we’re posturing toward the realm of molecular gastronomy.
Even in something as seemingly innocuous and small as convenience store sweets, the Japanese are “like everyone else, only more so.”
*if you enjoyed this, please read my quasi-sequel, on the structure of culture in Japan – it touches on some of the same themes.