
Ayumi in 2001
I’m watching Stadium Tour 2002 right now. I’m watching Ayumi Hamasaki, looking naturally gorgeous and well-appointed in a pseudo-Western leather outfit. She’s taking the stage from left to right and back again, spinning, dancing, singing her heart out. She never misses a beat, a pitch, a chance to pump the crowd (but never at the sake of the song). She improvises and plays to the camera. She is smiling, she is winning, she is dripping sweat by the third song but she is radiant with confidence and star power.
It’s a very elaborate concert, but it is like nothing we have seen from Ayumi since. Stadium Tour 2002, you see, allowed for one key thing: Ayumi’s movement as a performer and a singer.
As a singer.
I’m reading new updates at J-Cast and Livedoor. I’m remembering her public apology for the recent performance of ‘evolution’ at Music Festival. The Japanese media is finally pulling back the gag on trash-talking Ayumi, and no one seems afraid, anymore, to shout that the Emperor has no clothes, or, in this case, the Empress has no voice.
I’m watching Stadium Tour 2002 again. Several minutes of the inter-cut documentary footage have passed, and she is performing ‘Whatever’ in a scant and understated outfit. She is letting her ferocity as a performer speak for itself, allowing for her voice to make the statements, not her fashion or her trove of dancers. She is owning the stage.
There is so much movement, so much raw power to this concert.
I want to turn to Countdown Live 09-10 again. I want to wonder. I want to ask myself why I’m accepting “the best of 2009″ from Ayumi and thinking it’s okay in comparison to this, to seven years ago, to something amazing. A time I can never go back to.
On a personal note, I think it is because, in the back of my mind, I don’t want to believe that I never had the chance to see Ayumi Hamasaki live while she was still the fiercest singer in Japan.
She is singing ‘monochrome’ in 2002 and it sounds a thousand times better live than it does on record. I switch to the album cut for a moment, to remind myself. Ayumi on record in 2001 sounds staid, held back. On stage, in 2002, she is booming and holding on to each note. That voice. That singer. Where did that singer go?
I often tout Arena Tour 03~04 as Ayumi’s best. And it really is. It combined the singer with the show-woman that Ayumi has become. It defined her at a perfect point between two eras, while she still had the vocal chops and had not yet resigned to style over substance.
There is nothing wrong with style. I am a strong proponent of Arena Tour 2006, which seems to be as far as she was willing to go with over-the-top. Look at the performances for ‘alterna’, ‘STEP You/Ladies Night’, and ‘Bold & Delicious’, just to name a few. AT06 was a blisteringly stylish affair. There was flash to spare, and yes, her voice was still holding up. It was in the early stages of deterioration, but it was still strong, and it helped that the songs of ‘(miss)understood’ were tailored to her deeper, richer sound.

How much is too little?
She is standing still more than ever. In performances such as last month’s Countdown Live, she could barely move without straining her voice. As I watch her in 2002, she is moving wildly from song to song, around and around the stage, unburdened by costume changes for every two songs, unburdened by an obviously absent vocal range.
I am not happy about this. But I refuse to live in denial. I quote Ayumi herself:
“I have to sing these songs, I have to transmit these songs. That is the meaning of my existence, and I want to continue working hard so I can have a stage where I can feel at ease and have fun.”
I refuse to be in denial, but I will not refuse to admit that it breaks my heart. This woman remains my idol. Even as I watch performers like Beyonce and Lady Gaga and wonder “Ayumi. Honey. Why can’t you do that? Why can’t you be a fierce actress and rock the stage during every song like they do?”, I have to remember: Ayumi was a singer, first, a singer foremost. Watching Stadium Tour 2002 reminds me, as the sky darkens and she rushes the catwalk to sing ‘independent’. Then she takes the stage in that iconic Union Jack sequined dress, belting out ‘Free & Easy’ and making the hairs on my arm rise.
She has very little makeup on, and what is there just enhances her natural beauty. No wigs. No pre-recorded video segments to set the stage. No gigantic dress is needed to enhance a powerful ballad. The powerful ballad is the thing. It is not the accessory to the style.
When did it all go wrong? Here she is, in 2002, completely alone, all 5 feet and 1 inch of her, commanding a packed stadium in Tokyo on a hot summer night.
Re-evaluating is not a thing I like to do. I like to root for my idols, I live to root for my idols, and Ayumi Hamasaki is an idol I hold as dear as I hold some family members. She has treated me, as a fan, with respect and unbridled desire to please for so many years now, but…somewhere along the line, it all went wrong.
What you compensate with says everything about what you are compensating for. We have not been treated to an intimate, dancer-free, stripped-down and vocally-driven Ayumi Hamasaki performance to blow us away since 2006, and even that was just the encore.
I adore and still hold up the 2008 performance of ‘A Song for XX’ at a-nation as a magnificent moment for Ayumi, but with almost two years passed to reflect on it, I realize that it was less of a return to power than it was a resolution to fight.
Ayumi is not giving up. Ayumi will not give up. And I will not give up on her.
She follows ‘Free & Easy’ with ‘M’. Just a woman, her mic stand, and her incredible voice. Not Utada Hikaru, not YUI, not Namie Amuro. Different in every way, singing the hell out of a song she not only wrote, but also composed. Where did this woman go?
I am somber, as I watch Stadium Tour 2002, now, in 2010. At the risk of using a very similar word, I am also sobered to the fact that the Empress has no voice.
She casts her eyes skyward as the now-classic piano strains begin. She sings, with a voice that is no worse for wear from the two songs she just nailed to the stage:
“In a nonexistant place
I stand as I am.
Please be yourself.
That’s how I want you to be.”
It’s my favorite line from ‘SURREAL’, and one of my favorite Ayumi lyrics of all time. She is being lifted above the crowd in a cherry-picker, but the way she reaches over the barriers, it seems more that she is in a cage that is only barely doing its job of keeping her from physically imposing upon the audience the message of her lyrics.
By now, in any other Ayumi concert since 2003, it would be easy to imagine ourselves 6 costume changes in, as she sings ‘HANABI’ and a young dancer performs one of his first flaily solo dances in an Ayumi concert, his hair rather normal and wearing standard jeans and a white tank top.
It’s like watching a bizarro version of Ayumi Hamasaki. The carnivale-inspired costumes and opulence of the final set are familiar now, yes, but by today’s standards they seem absolutely tame, downright “boring” against giant stage mechanics, fountains, and rotating platforms.
Ayumi is singing every word of ‘Boys & Girls’. It was a lovely gesture to the fans in 2002 when, during the final chorus, they were asked to join in, but the mixing of the DVD is superb in showcasing Ayumi’s vocals rather than the crowd’s – if you compare 2002 to 2005, hardly anyone from the crowd joined in. Now, the crowd is a crutch during ‘Boys & Girls’, and is indicative of a larger problem. Listening to her sing every word of this song is downright odd.
Fireworks go off around the stadium, lighting up the Tokyo sky when she is finished.
I want fireworks to go up for Ayumi the singer again. I love her as a singer first, as a singer foremost. If we are to take her at her word, she will continue to sing as long as people will listen. I will continue to listen, but I have to wonder when it will be beyond criticism, when we will officially pass into the era of Ayumi the celebrity, of knowing simply who she is rather than what she is currently responsible for in the music world.
If scuttlebutt is any indicator, that era has come. But I believe in ‘You were…/BALLAD’, especially in ‘RED LINE ~for TA~’.
Give me a good concert again, Ayumi, or refuse to put yourself in the position of ridicule. This is something I have absolutely no desire to snark over. You are my heroine, my goddess, and my inspiration. I will always be listening, but right now it is comparable to watching Kerri Strug make an Olympic vault on a broken leg. Only, Ayumi…you’re not in the running for a gold medal.
“Please be yourself.
That’s how I want you to be.”