Imagine like a pristine chart -topping pop group,
right? They're releasing this highly anticipated
new music video. Right. The budget is huge. Everyone
is watching. Exactly. The production value is
just completely off the charts. The choreography
is flawless. The fan base is going wild. Yeah.
But then instead of the video ending with, you
know, that glamorous, heroic pose you'd normally
expect... That standard pop star finish. Right.
Instead of that, the entire group suddenly mutates
into a psychotic... purple alien warlord, which
honestly sounds like a complete career ending
malfunction. It really does. But it was actually,
um, it was one of the smartest things a pop group
has ever done. Oh, absolutely. So welcome to
the deep dives today. We have a really fun mission
for you. We're pulling apart this fascinating
piece of source material. Yeah, a really deep
look into a single song that just completely
tore up the traditional marketing playbook. We're
looking at the ultimate collision of J -pop,
global anime fandom, and honestly, just a master
class in psychological marketing. Because usually
when you think about a movie tie -in song, the
formula is painfully predictable. Oh yeah. A
pop star records a catchy track, they splice
some movie footage into the video, and that's
it. Right. Transaction over. You buy the single,
you watch the movie. The two worlds touch for
a second, but they stay completely separate.
Because the boundaries between the musician and
the movie are, like, really clearly defined.
And heavily guarded. I mean, neither side wants
to risk alienating their core audience by blending
the brands too much. But in Japan, in the spring
of 2015, that standard playbook was just completely
shredded. It really was. We are looking at a
track called Zee No Chikai, which translates
to Pledge of Zee. Right. This was the 15th single
released by the massive Japanese idol group,
Momoro Clover Z. It dropped on April 29, 2015.
But this wasn't just some ordinary pop release.
No, not at all. This track was engineered from
the ground up to be the theme song for the theatrical
anime film, Dragon Ball Z Resurrection F. Which
is a huge deal. Huge. We're going to show you
how this one musical release was architected
to bridge entirely distinct pop culture universes.
Yeah, crossing physical, visual, and linguistic
borders. To really understand how groundbreaking
this was, we kind of have to look past the song
itself for a minute. Right. We have to look at
how deeply the band was integrated into the anime's
universe. Because the creators didn't just, you
know, ask Memorial Clover Z for an audio file.
No, they didn't. The members of the group actually
participated in the film itself. Wait, like in
the actual movie? Yeah. They provided the voices
for characters that the source material literally
describes as angels from hell. Which is such
a bizarre and specific role for a pop group.
Totally. And it didn't stop there. The lyrics
for Pledge of Z were written by Yukino Jomori.
Oh, wow. Yeah. And they were explicitly inspired
by the lore of Akira Toriyama's Dragon Ball universe.
OK, but I kind of have to push back on this a
little bit. Sure. If you have this massive movie
franchise and the pop stars who sing the theme
song. suddenly show up on screen as like obscure
background characters. Doesn't that just feel
like a cheap promotional gimmick? Like, is it
actually making the song more authentic to the
film's universe? I see what you're saying. Or
is it just a cynical trick to force the idol
group's fans to go buy movie tickets? Well, it
is definitely a tactic to mobilize the fan base,
but dismissing it as just a gimmick misses the
underlying psychology of hardcore fandoms. How
so? Think about anime fans, specifically Dragon
Ball fans. This is a franchise with decades of
history. Right. is fiercely protective of its
lore. If you just slap a trendy J -pop song over
the end credits of their highly anticipated movie,
there's a massive risk of rejection. Like they'll
just resent it. Exactly. The fans will view the
pop group as tourists who are just there to siphon
off the franchise's clout. Oh, they act like
antibodies attacking a foreign virus. That is
a perfect way to put it. So how do you prevent
that immune response? You have to actually weave
them into it. Right. You weave the pop group
into the actual DNA of the property. By bringing
a Mamoru Clover Z into the recording booth to
voice these angels from hell. Yeah. And by having
a veteran like Yukino Jomori write lyrics steeped
in Akira Toriyama's world, you transform the
song. It's not just a song anymore. Exactly.
It becomes a thematic living extension of the
movie. It proves to the anime purists that the
band is willing to do the homework. They aren't
tourists. They're active, authenticated participants
in the universe. Spot on. Okay, that makes sense
for the movie itself, but how does that actually
translate to the real world? That's where the
physical media comes in. Right, because this
deep thematic integration didn't just stay in
the voice acting booth or the recording studio.
No, it dictated the entire physical marketing
strategy for the single. And this is where I
think this story gets... Truly brilliant. The
physical media strategy here is just a perfect
case study in solving one of the oldest business
problems in entertainment. Which is audience
alienation. Let me break down what they did for
you because it's staggering. They didn't just
release one CD. Right. They released two completely
distinct versions of the Zeno Chikai single.
First, you have the F edition. The F edition.
Yeah, and the F edition. The cover art depicts
the group's members dressed up in live -action
cosplay as the iconic Dragon Ball villain, Frieza.
Wow! And the back cover features a similar image,
but it's designed to look exactly like the view.
through one of the series' scouter devices. Oh,
those futuristic eyepieces that calculate power
levels. Yes, exactly. So the visual language
of the F edition is entirely focused on the physical
presence and the actual faces of the band members.
Right, but then you look at the Z edition. And
it's completely different. Totally different.
The Z edition includes the same title track,
but instead of a Blu -ray, it features a B -side
cover of the original Dragon Ball Z opening theme
song. Wait, Chala had Chala? Yes. Chala Hachala
by Hurtabu Kageyama. Oh, that's huge! And the
artwork is a total departure. The front and back
covers feature the members of Mamoru Clover Z,
but they aren't in live -action cosplay anymore.
They're drawn. Yes, drawn in the classic Dragon
Ball animation style by Toei Animation itself.
That is so smart. Now, both editions share the
new song, and they both feature another B -side
called Romantiku Kangaregadaru, which means romantically
entangled. Right, right. But other than that,
they're radically different products. They're
completely different propositions for the consumer
engineered to solve... The crossover problem.
The crossover problem. Yeah. When you try to
cross over between two wildly different demographics,
in this case, J -pop idol fans and hyper -masculine
martial arts anime fans, the usual strategy is
to water the product down. Just to make it vaguely
appeal to everyone. Exactly. But when you do
that, you usually end up pleasing no one. But
wait, if I'm just a casual music fan walking
into a record store in Tokyo... and I see two
totally different album covers with different
track lists and different pack -ins. I just get
confused and walk away. Splitting the product
that aggressively feels like a massive risk,
it feels like you're dividing your own sales
momentum. You would think so if you were looking
at this through the lens of a casual Western
mass market. Okay, so what am I missing? You
have to view this through the specific mechanics
of the Japanese music industry and idol culture.
Right. In Japan, physical media is still a massive
driver of success, and the consumers aren't casual.
They are highly motivated and deeply invested.
So it's not about dividing the audience? No,
it's about hypersegmentation. Segmentation preserves
purity. Walk me through how that actually works
for these two specific groups. Well, think about
what an idol group is. Yeah. The appeal isn't
just the music. It's the personalities. Exactly.
It's the approachability and that parasocial
relationship the fans have with the members.
OK. So the F edition caters entirely to that
idol fan base. It gives them physical video media
with the Blu -ray and live action cosplay showing
the actual faces of the girls they follow. It
gives the idle fans exactly what they want without
diluting it. Precisely. And then the Z edition
completely ignores the live -action element to
protect the anime fans. Yes. The Z edition caters
perfectly to the anime purists. By using authentic
Toei illustration, it bypasses the live -action
G -pop element entirely. It cements the band's
place in the visual canon of the show. Right.
It looks like a piece of Dragon Ball merchandise,
not a pop album. Wow. And including a cover of
Chala Hed Chala by Hironobu Kageyama that is
weaponized nostalgia. Seriously, that song is
practically a sacred text in anime history. By
splitting the release, neither fan base feels
like their specific interests were compromised
for the sake of the other. The product remains
pure for both distinct consumer bases. And of
course, the super fans and completionists are
going to buy both versions anyway. Oh, absolutely.
Which manipulates the sales charts, but we'll
get to those numbers later. Yeah, I want to transition
to how they actually executed this visually.
It's one thing to draw the band in the style
of the anime on a CD cover. Right, but how do
you physically merge? pristine pop idols with
a hyper -masculine martial arts universe without
it looking like a cheap parody. That falls entirely
on the execution of the music video, which was
directed by Masatsugu Nagaso. He had to walk
an incredible tightrope. And the way he walked
that tightrope was by completely committing to
the bit. Full commitment. The visual component
of this release was wildly ambitious. The members
of Memorial Clover Z didn't just sing the track
in front of some movie posters. No, they fully
cosplayed as iconic characters from the universe.
Yeah, you had Kanaka Momota as Son Goku, Shiori
Tamaya as Vegeta, Ayaka Sasaki as this Bulma
Trunks hybrid. Which is awesome. Moboka Ariyasu
as Chaozu. and Reddy Takagi is Piccolo. They're
wearing the martial arts ease, they're doing
the poses. It feels like a surreal, incredibly
high -budget Halloween party that somehow managed
to become official studio -sanctioned canon.
It really does. It's such a striking visual clash.
You have the inherent cuteness and polish of
a J -pop idol group slammed right up against
the aggressive, stylized aesthetic of a fighting
anime. But there's a specific detail about the
end of this video that completely subverts everything
we know about pop star branding. Yes. Towards
the end of the video, all the members who have
been dressed as these beloved heroes the entire
time suddenly transform into the villain, Frieza.
The purple alien warlord. Why? Why would you
take a highly manicured pop group whose entire
business model relies on them looking glamorous
and heroic and have them transformed to a grotesque
antagonist at the climax of their own music video?
It's a brilliant question and it really speaks
to the core difference between vanity and artistic
surrender. Okay, unpack that. In traditional
pop music, image is everything. Artists fiercely
protect their brand and they want to be seen
as flawless. Right. But Masatsugu Nagaso and
the group understood the specific film they were
promoting. Resurrection F, the F stands for Frieza.
He's the central antagonist returning to the
story. Exactly. If the idol group had just stayed
as the heroes, it would have been a fun, safe
cosplay video. But by transforming into Frieza
at the end, they are actively embracing the weird
antagonistic elements of the lore. They are completely
sub - subverting their own pristine image. And
that subversion is what earns them credibility.
It proves to the audience that they aren't taking
themselves too seriously. They're willing to
look bizarre. They're willing to become the monster
to fully surrender their polished idol image
to serve the narrative demands of the Dragon
Ball franchise. It's an act of deep commitment
that basically tells the fans, we care more about
honoring this story than we do about looking
pretty. That level of dedication to the source
material clearly worked for domestic fans in
Japan. But the source material highlights another
massive hurdle. Adapting this highly specific,
culturally ingrained crossover for the rest of
the world required a completely different kind
of effort. And frankly, a massive leap of faith.
Yeah. The international market presents a unique
challenge, especially for a property as globally
massive as Dragon Ball. Right. How do you localize
a J -pop tie -in for audiences in North America
or Europe without losing the energy of the original
performance? Well, according to our sources,
the distributors didn't just subtitle the Japanese
track for the international versions of the Resurrection
F film. No, an English language version of the
song titled Pledge of Z was specially recorded.
But here's the mechanical catch that just blew
my mind. The members of Memorial Clover Z do
not fluently speak English. Exactly. Remember,
Kanako Momota actually admitted that the English
lyrics had to be transliterated into katakana.
which is a Japanese syllabary used for foreign
words. Right. They transliterated the English
lyrics into katakana just so the members could
physically sound out the words in the studio.
It's a fascinating mechanical detail. It reveals
so much about the globalization of pop culture.
Yeah, and just as a quick side note to show how
enduring this effort was, the group actually
released a new arrangement of the track later
on. Right, the one subtitled ZZ Dever, arranged
by Tomoki Hasegawa, which came out on their self
-titled album four years later in 2019. So this
wasn't just a throwaway track. It became a core
part of their legacy. But I want to go back to
that English recording process because I'm struggling
to understand the emotional mechanics of it.
OK, what do you mean? It's like an actor. memorizing
the exact keystrokes of a piano piece for a movie
scene without actually knowing how to read music.
That's a great analogy. If you're just reading
phonetic syllables off a katakana sheet, how
can you possibly infuse the song with the correct
emotion? It seems like it would be impossible.
Right. Doesn't an English version lose its soul
if the singers are just mechanically sounding
out syllables? Why not just hire an English speaking
singer to cover the track for the international
release? Because if you hired a different singer,
you would lose the fundamental identity of the
crossover. Okay, fair. The tension here is between
linguistic fluency and emotional authenticity.
Interesting. You might assume that sounding out
transliterated lyrics strips away the emotional
nuance, but in the context of global anime fandom,
the effort itself is the emotional hook. The
effort of trying to speak the language. Exactly,
the sheer friction of the attempt. Anime is a
global phenomenon, and the distributors wanted
international audiences to experience the specific
high -octane energy of Mamoru Okover Z. So the
transliteration into katakana prioritizes the
feeling and the inclusivity of the experience
over perfect grammar. Yes. It is the group essentially
saying, we might not speak your language natively,
but we are going to learn the phonetic sounds
of it, syllable by syllable, so we can share
the specific piece of Dragon Ball history with
you directly. It strips away the barrier of the
translator. Right, and creates a direct, albeit
imperfect, connection with the global fan. So
when we pull all of these separate threads together,
what do we actually have? We have a lot. You've
gone from a pop group voicing angels from hell
to embed themselves in the lore. We've seen them
split their identity. across two incredibly detailed
physical CD releases to avoid alienating distinct
fan bases. We've seen them surrender their pristine
idol image to cosplay as the villain Frieza under
Masatsugu Nagaso's direction. And finally, we've
seen them literally sanding out English syllables
in a recording booth to reach a global audience.
The ultimate question is, did this massive multi
-layered strategy actually work? The chart performance
proves that it was an overwhelming success. You
have to remember, the Oricon charts are essentially
Japan's equivalent to the Billboard charts, and
the metrics there dictate the entire industry.
OK. In 2015, the single hit number two on the
Oricon Daily Singles chart and number four on
the Oricon Weekly Singles chart. It's huge. And
over on Billboard Japan, it peaked at number
five on the Hot 100, number three for hot single
sales, and crucially hit number two on the Billboard
Japan Hot Animation chart. It was an undeniable
smash hit across every possible measure. Truly.
Think about the marketing campaigns you see today
for the Marvel Cinematic Universe or massive
event films. Yeah. The playbook they use, where
artists become deeply entrenched in the lore,
where physical media is weaponized for distinct
fan bases, was being perfected years ago in Japan
by groups like Moira Clover Z. They didn't just
write a catchy tune to play over the credits.
No, they built a structural bridge that let idol
fans walk safely into the anime world and anime
fans walk safely into the idol world. And that
leaves us with a critical thought to ponder as
the entertainment landscape continues to evolve.
What's that? We are living in an era of global
mega franchises that consume everything in their
path. As these cinematic universes continue to
expand their footprints, will we see more musicians
having to literally cosplay and transliterate
their artistic identities to fit into pre -existing
worlds? Wow. It fundamentally blurs the line
between being an independent pop star and functioning
as a fictional character within a corporate franchise.
It really does make you look at every soundtrack
released differently. It does. You start off
thinking it's just a simple transaction. Yeah.
A pop star records a track. You watch the movie.
The worlds touch for a second and separate. Right.
But then you realize sometimes the walls between
those worlds don't exist at all. The boundaries
are completely gone. And suddenly the pop star
is the one wearing the scouter staring right
back at you.