Hatsune Miku, Voice of the People
As Hatsune Miku boldly declares in “World Is Mine” (Supercell), she is “the #1 princess in the world.” First released on August 31, 2007, she has become the face of the Vocaloid franchise at the young age of sixteen (her canonical age, according to the Crypton Future Media website). Crowds of lightstick-bopping fans fill virtual and real-life concert halls to see her. Miku’s influence is impressive, but the dedicated producers are the people who make her so great.
Vocaloid producers bend voicebanks to their will in order to make the characters “sing.” Some of them, like PinocchioP, can and do actually sing themselves. Others allow the program to say everything. Whatever the case, Miku’s versatility and bright turquoise hair has won over listeners worldwide. Her wide fan base gives producers of all skill levels a default audience. With a pre-made project file (containing phrases, pitches, tuning, and more), they don’t even need to speak the language that she sings in. The producers behind each popular song imbue the programmed syllables with meaning.
There’s a special irony in making a computer ask about concepts like humanity and mortality, but it can be difficult to discuss these topics directly. Miku steps in where humans falter, singing about profound regrets, such as failing to recognize how much others love you, in “Atonement” (Kasamura Tōta) and describing what it means to be alive in “Is There A Life In It?” (DIVELA). She never tears up mid-sentence; unless the producer wills it, she doesn’t even breathe. Miku’s ability to perform anything to a sugar-sweet backtrack gives Vocaloid its signature dichotomy between lyrics and sound. However, the intent behind her words is anything but arbitrary.
The producer Kanzaki Iori is known for a discography of songs with serious themes, and “I want to be your god” is no exception. The striking contrast between Miku’s robotic, unusually gravelly voice and a god is immediately apparent. Her words express a sentiment that many songwriters struggle with: can words really save people? She may wish that her songs would help people want to live, but she’s actually powerless to change people herself. Her hope transforms her singing into “naught but a mass of [her] own ego,” something that serves only herself (translation by Forgetfulsubs). Miku doesn’t criticize singing for yourself. Rather, she admits that uplifting messages can come from a selfish place. “I want to be your god” is a confession that softens the blow of the truth. By using Miku as a messenger, Kanzaki Iori protects himself as well as his audience.
In “Deathly Loneliness Attacks,” Hifumi describes a deep, contradictory fear of isolation. Miku’s voice is tuned to sound like she’s on the verge of tears. She laments that she’s lonely because she only values relationships superficially, so she ends up by herself. Rather than reaching out, she sinks into the feeling and justifies her self-destructive isolation by pointing out her own hypocrisy. She has turned away from many people, so she feels unworthy of their support. Miku’s predicament reflects a common challenge that people face. Her pride and shame stops her from asking for help even though her loneliness is serious enough to be compared to death. Still, she releases a musical form of her sorrow into the world, which is a step in the right direction.
Many people (some of my friends included) argue that using Vocaloid isn’t strictly necessary to convey these ideas. Human songwriters can also be boldly honest in their lyrics. The robotic sound that comes with Vocaloid voicebanks can be simulated with enough effects. However, while directors can be disappointed by human singers, skilled Vocaloid producers have complete control over how their songs are sung. They determine the intonation, pacing, and pitch of each character's voice. Even the pronunciation of words can be altered to give them double meanings; for example, in “Jitter Doll,” niki represents "mankind" with one "person" by having the Vocaloid Lily read them as the same syllables. Producers are thus able to present their music exactly as they envision.
Flexibility alone isn't the source of Miku's power. In the end, music matters if it resonates with people, whether the singer is a human being or a virtual idol. Hatsune Miku may be a “digital girl,” but her words carry the weight of a real person’s emotions.