Chapter 103: Aren't You Planning to Hold a Concert?

Japanese Entertainer Slash chord 3249 words 2026-03-24 16:38:21

“Ye Jun, I’ve received the song. I can’t believe you’re willing to share such a great track!” Over the phone, Michi Iijima’s excitement softened her usual formal address of “Ye Zhao-san” into the more familiar “Ye Jun.”

“Michi-san, you flatter me. If I didn’t have some confidence in the song, I wouldn’t dare offer it to SMAP-san to sing,” Ye Zhao replied politely. “Since I promised you, I’ll do my utmost to deliver.”

Michi Iijima chuckled with delight. “The company has already decided to make this song the lead single of the next release. Both the executives and all of us at SMAP believe it has huge potential to be a hit. Ye Jun, I appreciate you entrusting us with such a precious song instead of singing it yourself. I haven’t forgotten this favor.”

Her tone at the last sentence was serious and sincere. Though Ye Zhao wasn’t sure how much weight this “favor” carried with her, receiving such a promise was certainly not a bad thing. Building a good relationship with the future national idol group could only benefit his career down the line. He had never lacked good songs, so if he could exchange his compositions for other advantages, he would seize the opportunity without hesitation.

After hanging up, the car stopped right beneath the BEING headquarters. Today, he was here specifically to discuss the new album with President Nagato Taiko.

“How’s the album preparation coming along?” Inside the president’s office, Nagato Taiko spoke while reaching for a tea cup. Since their last meeting, the short-haired female staff who used to serve coffee had been replaced by a young, capable-looking man.

“We’ve completed six new tracks, plus the two songs we plan to include—‘Rainbow’ and ‘Winter, Again.’ It’s almost ready,” Ye Zhao said, nodding toward a paper bag on the desk. “I also brought demos of the six new songs today. President, you can listen to them first.”

Nagato Taiko didn’t immediately touch the bag. “I’ll listen to them slowly later. To be honest, Ye Jun, I still trust your musical taste.”

“You overpraise me, President.”

Regarding the tracklist for the new album, Ye Zhao and Nagato Taiko agreed that since the album’s release would be near winter, including the spring song “Cherry Blossoms” and summer hit “Summer Colors” would feel somewhat out of season, so they decided to exclude those two bestsellers.

After all, an album isn’t just a collection of all hit singles bundled together. If it were, sales might actually decline. This is because a formal album isn’t a greatest hits compilation; including too many singles risks giving consumers a sense of carelessness.

“The last single was a collaboration with Fukuyama-kun back in April, right?” Nagato Taiko recalled thoughtfully. “This album is slated for mid to late October. If we don’t release anything between April and October, the gap is too long. For artists on the rise, maintaining an exposure rhythm of a single every two to three months and an album once a year is reasonable. So, before the new album drops, let’s choose a new song as the lead single and release it around late August.”

Releasing an album in October and a single in late August—doesn’t that feel like a cash grab? Indeed, it is. To put it bluntly, singles exist to make money. Yet, record companies, artists, and consumers all tacitly accept this practice.

In this golden era of records, popular singers made a profit with every release. Frequent single releases not only brought quicker and greater income but also kept them in the public eye, building momentum for the upcoming album. This prevented their careers from fading amid the constant influx of new acts—after all, hundreds of new groups debuted each year in the 1990s, leading to unprecedented turnover in the music scene. Moreover, unlike in China, where personal connections matter, in the RB—the music industry’s realm—being outdated is a fatal flaw. Even artists who have fallen from grace or acted out of line can survive on nostalgia if they have one or two familiar hits. For example, even Noriko Sakai, who faced scandals, could still draw crowds for dinner shows in China, thanks to the goodwill earned from “Star’s Gold” and “Blue Rabbit” in her glory days.

In RB, fading into obscurity is the original sin. Once replaced by newcomers, one is instantly trampled underfoot.

As for consumers, the lead single must be a gem from the album. If they don’t want the full album, buying just their favorite track is more convenient and affordable. Thus, releasing singles is a mutually agreeable practice. Although, with the rise of digital distribution, singles have become something only die-hard fans eagerly purchase, the thriving single market still owes its existence to this demand.

Therefore, maintaining a pace of one single every two months during the rising phase is inevitable—whether the artist is self-producing, relying on external composers, or selling songs through popularity as an idol.

Fully aware of this, Ye Zhao nodded without surprise at Nagato Taiko’s proposal.

After discussing the singles and album, Nagato Taiko suddenly asked, “Have you considered holding a concert, Ye Jun?”

“A concert?”

“It’s almost been a full year since your debut. Haven’t you thought about performing live?” Nagato Taiko teased. “You’re not exactly an artist who avoids the spotlight.”

Ye Zhao pretended not to notice the slight dissatisfaction in the president’s tone. “Is the company already making arrangements?”

“Typically, tour schedules are announced around the same time as the album release. If you’re interested, the company can start organizing immediately.”

In reality, most venues require booking at least a year in advance. You can’t just decide one day to hold a concert a month later and pay the fee the next day.

However, a major label like BEING usually reserves several venue dates annually in advance for their artists, so their singers don’t have to wait a whole year.

Though Ye Zhao had done a few open-air performances during promotional periods, these were at most for a few hundred spectators with very basic equipment. The idea of touring with a band in concert halls filled with thousands or tens of thousands of people was something he hadn’t seriously considered. Yet, despite never having thought about it, he was not opposed to public performances and actually wished to become a live performer who could enjoy the stage.

That said, he first asked, “How many shows are you planning for the concert, President? If it’s a nationwide tour from Sapporo Cultural Hall down to Fukuoka Civic Hall, I’ll have to refuse outright. Such tours are too time-consuming and would tie me up for at least half a year.”

Nagato Taiko replied, “The plan is to hold five shows: three in Tokyo and two in Osaka. The venues are small—two shows at Nakano Sunplaza and one at Hibiya Open-Air Concert Hall in Tokyo; two shows at Osaka Festival Hall. These venues hold between two to three thousand people. For a recently debuted artist like you, who needs to solidify your popularity through live performances, these are perfect.”

Nakano Sunplaza, located in Tokyo’s Nakano ward, seats up to 2,222; Hibiya Open-Air Concert Hall in Chiyoda’s Hibiya Park holds up to 3,114 (including 450 standing spots). Though small, these venues carry considerable prestige and are often called “sacred grounds.”

For singers, starting at Nakano Sunplaza, moving on to Hibiya Open-Air, Osaka Castle Hall, and ultimately performing at Budokan, then topping out with shows at the dome stadiums, represents a dream progression path.

Though nowadays Budokan is often joked about as the venue where AKB holds rock-paper-scissors contests, and where third-rate idols, domestic or Korean, can perform as long as the money’s right, this is more due to the financial clout of agencies like Johnny’s rather than any cheapening of Music Station or the dome. Large venues tend to sacrifice sound quality and viewing experience. Imagine sitting on the third tier of Tokyo Dome, which holds 45,600 people, looking down at performers reduced to tiny bouncing peas, with nothing but echoes and noise in your ears. For artists who emphasize live atmosphere, this might be tolerable, but for pure singing, it’s far from ideal.

Therefore, many performers who care about show quality avoid large venues, making Budokan the best choice for a slightly bigger stage. Budokan not only satisfies their demands for stage effects but carries a certain sacred significance: in the 1960s, The Beatles held their Japan concerts there. Also, the first all-female band to perform at Budokan, Princess Princess, made history as well.

“Very well, President, please arrange the schedule,” Ye Zhao agreed after confirming the number of shows.

Nagato Taiko nodded with satisfaction. “Then please give your all with the new single and album.”

…