Seiko and Akina — The Day Two Divas Split a Nation

In the previous episode, we watched television give birth to the ‘Hana no Chusan Trio’ and saw living rooms across Japan fall in love with the very idea of the idol. In 1980, that warmth swelled into an even greater wave. The year Momoe Yamaguchi retired at twenty-one and left the stage — that very year, as if in exchange, the protagonists of a new era stepped forward. The 1980s were the golden age in which Japanese idols shone most brilliantly. At its center stood two divas of utterly opposite charm.

The Dazzling Orthodox Star, Seiko Matsuda

The story opens with Seiko Matsuda, who debuted in 1980. Her second single ‘Aoi Sangosho,’ following her debut song ‘Hadashi no Kisetsu,’ became a massive hit, and she shot up to the rank of top idol almost overnight.

Seiko’s charm lay in being bright, lovely, and endlessly upbeat. Her curled hairstyle, dubbed the ‘Seiko-chan cut,’ was copied by girls across the country. An innocent smile and a sweet, clear voice — what she embodied was the image of the ‘ideal girl’ that everyone pictured. At the same time, some dismissed her calculated cuteness as putting on an act. But turned around, that only meant Seiko was an acutely self-aware performer who knew exactly how to present herself.

Songs like ‘Akai Sweet Pea’ and ‘SWEET MEMORIES’ drew in the era’s finest lyricists and composers one after another. The idol was no longer merely a ‘cute singer’; she had become a vast project that brought together the full strength of the best creators.

The Innovator Cloaked in Shadow, Akina Nakamori

Ranked alongside Seiko was Akina Nakamori, who debuted in 1982 with ‘Slow Motion.’ She emerged by winning through the audition program ‘Star Tanjo!’ — one of the so-called ‘Class of 82.’

The light Akina gave off was utterly different in hue from Seiko’s. If Seiko was sun, Akina was shadow. Opposite the bright, orthodox star stood a figure cloaked in shadow, solitude, and a strong will. In ‘Shojo A,’ she projected the image of a delinquent girl, and with songs driven by hard guitar and heavy bass, she boldly rewrote the idol image that had come before. She did not simply sing the songs handed to her; she fully inhabited a dense world with each one — an ‘idol as a performing artist,’ so to speak.

Her ability showed in the numbers as well. In 1985, Akina won the Japan Record Award with ‘Mi Amore.’ It was an exceptional feat for an idol — an honor that even Momoe Yamaguchi, and her rival Seiko, were reported never to have achieved. The lovely Seiko or the shadowed Akina — people debated which of the two they were drawn to, and that very contrast became the talk of the age.

The After-School Hours Became the Stage — Onyanko Club

While the two divas reigned, in 1985 an idol of an entirely new concept appeared. Born out of the variety program ‘Yuyake Nyan Nyan,’ it was Onyanko Club.

Their concept was ‘a high school girl’s after-school hours.’ Not polished professional singers, but ordinary-looking girls you might find anywhere, standing on stage together in a cheerful crowd. The debut song ‘Sailor-fuku wo Nugasanaide’ was written by Yasushi Akimoto. The title is risque, but Akimoto later said his aim was to deliberately reject the conventional song of surrendering oneself to a love interest, and by doing so, to highlight a girlish freshness and charm. The song reached number five on the Oricon chart and sold over 240,000 copies, becoming a hit.

The arrival of Onyanko Club quietly but decisively shook the very definition of the idol. Not ‘admiration beyond reach’ but ‘a familiarity that seems right next to you.’ Not perfect talent but an unfinished, life-sized charm. This system — born from a TV program, with large numbers of members rotating in and out — would, far down the line, bloom again through the very hand of Yasushi Akimoto, who would create AKB48 twenty years later. But at the time, that was a future no one yet knew.

The Brilliance Mass Production Brought, and Its Price

By the latter half of the ’80s, idols were quite literally being ‘mass-produced.’ Miho Nakayama, Yuki Saito, Yoko Minamino, Momoko Kikuchi — newcomers debuting one after another filled the TV music shows almost every week. Idols were no longer a precious handful but an everyday scene overflowing throughout society.

This was light, but it bred shadow as well. As supply increased, each individual’s brilliance grew thinner. Similar songs, similar costumes, similar smiles — the more ‘idol-ness’ settled into a mold, the more people grew used to it and began to tire. And on the performers’ side too, the grueling schedules of youth and the pressure of having even their private lives commodified bore down on them. Behind the glittering golden age lay another reality: the sheer speed at which they were consumed.

Even so, what the idols of the ’80s left behind was great. They were a mirror reflecting the prosperity postwar Japan had attained, and the very dazzle of consumer society itself. The hours spent with a fluttering heart in front of the television were, for people, the most familiar ‘dream’ of all.

What the Mirror Reflected

Seiko, Akina, and Onyanko Club. The ’80s, when three icons each of a different kind shone at once, were the summit of Japanese idol history. People projected onto them their ideals and longings — even their rebellion and loneliness. The idol was a singer and, at the same time, a vast screen reflecting the mood of the times.

But every festival comes to an end. When TV music shows vanished one after another and people’s interest began to shift to new music, the once-bustling idol stage was swiftly enveloped in silence. What arrived at the end of mass production was a long, harsh stagnation — a winter season in which idols were even called ‘old’ and ‘uncool.’ The story moves on to the 1990s.