I was there in the 90s and let me tell you, things were pretty grim. For us anime nerds, I mean. There we were, sitting around our anime clubs and cons, looking at the fandom we’d built around the science-fiction anime-boom giants of the late 70s and the 80s, realizing that those shows were gone. The Macrosses and Yamatos and Dirty Pairs had vanished, the Cobras and Captain Harlocks and Bubblegum Crisises had all popped along with the bubble economy, and as much as the retailers wished it wasn’t so, there was only one Akira. Sure, there was still plenty of anime to watch, but Japan had moved on from space opera; now everything was either high-school this or fantasy sorcerer-elf that, or somebody cooking something tasty in the middle of a forest in the middle of a Ghibli film, which, it’s fine, but there’s a specific itch that wasn’t getting scratched.
That is, not until Cowboy Bebop showed up. Crashing into our eyeballs like, yeah, like a tank, this Sunrise show absolutely changed the game, flipped the table, set the rule book on fire and ignited a series of demolition charges around the perimeter of the stadium in which the game had been played. There it was, there was the rocket sock-’em space adventure we’d been missing, built around a framework of Tarantino and John Woo, with characters that looked like human beings instead of candy packaging mascots, backed by a soundtrack of… is that jazz? Is this music for grownups? Is this that rare, almost mythical beast, a Japanese animated TV show that isn’t childish or embarrassing or pandering, a show you can show your parents? Your roommates? Your girlfriend?
It's no surprise that a stylish, action-packed anime series wearing its global pop cultural influences on its sleeve would fit perfectly into a media landscape filled with maturing cartoon fans ready for the next big thing, primed by decades of TV syndication culminating in an American cable network seemingly built just for this show. At least that's what it felt like when Cowboy Bebop premiered here in North America; like the show had been custom-built for kids who four or five years back had been hypnotized by Sailor Moon, Teknoman and Ronin Warriors, who might be growing up and away from primary-colored justice fighters, who were ready for something starring grownups with jobs and nicotine habits, ready for a Japanese animated TV series that, for once, was going to impress the hell out of their friends and relatives who might still be mocking the concept of "animation for adults."
What is kinda surprising is that a Bebop book like this hasn’t appeared sooner, and that other series haven’t had similar treatments. I'd love to see a comprehensive English-language book about, say, Astro Boy or Mazinger Z, or Gatchaman, Space Battleship Yamato, Mobile Suit Gundam, or Macross, you name it, there's a cherished cultural icon deserving of a long-form print edition overview. Somebody get busy, because Three, Two, One: Let’s Jam! is more than a book, it’s a call to action for everyone who’s filled hours, shelf space and valuable mental real estate obsessing over their favorite anime shows, a challenge to start working on your own resource guide for your own icons.
If you're hoping Three, Two, One: Let’s Jam! dissects the live-action Netflix Cowboy Bebop, well, keep hoping. While the streamer's perhaps ill-advised remake did bring the original to Netflix for the first time, Stevenson’s book deflects with the deft sidestep "coverage of such an adaptation is beyond this book's remit," a sensible position, and anyway, the book’s already six hundred and thirty nine pages long, spending more pages to discuss a Netflix version nobody liked is probably foolish.
Fans of Movie International's 80s cult super robot drama Galactic Gale Baxinger and it's ending credits song "Asteroid Blues" will be fascinated to learn, as we do in Stevenson's book, that Bebop creator Watanabe denies any connection between the Baxinger tune and the title of Bebop's first episode, a claim I simply don’t buy. Look buddy, you made an anime about outer space bounty hunters, Baxinger is an anime about outer space bounty hunters, part of a series of anime shows about outer space bounty hunters known collectively as the J9 series, which was a reference to the Sony SL-J9 Betamax... a Betamax that itself shows up in an episode of Cowboy Bebop. You say you weren’t thinking about J9 at all, huh? Sure you weren’t.
But enough about merciless J9. The fact is that Three, Two, One: Let’s Jam! is an awe-inspiring chunk of scholarship that is unique in the annals of English-language anime research, a singular achievement that is a worthy addition to any library on Earth, Mars, the asteroid belt, anywhere in the Solar System, really. Cowboy Bebop fans will be consulting this book for the details on whichever episode Adult Swim’s airing tonight, up until 2071 and beyond.
Thanks to Satoru and Telos!
-Dave Merrill
6 comments:
Let's gently disabuse ourselves of this pervasive, almost touching, myth surrounding Cowboy Bebop's supposed instant legendary status in the late 90s. It's a lovely fairy tale, but those of us who were actually there remember things... differently. While you paint the 90s in dreary monochrome, we were mainlining high-octane sci-fi like Gunbuster, Bubblegum Crisis, Macross Plus, Dominion, and Evangelion. When Bebop's fansubs eventually washed ashore in late '99, it was, at best, mid-tier buzz, utterly overshadowed by the fervor for One Piece, GTO, Ryvius, and Excel Saga. Fast forward slightly, and digital pirates were burning FLCL onto SVCDs with far more enthusiasm. Bebop's ascent to god-tier only happened after the widespread availability of DVDs and the blessed intervention of Adult Swim in 2001. Before that? Honestly, tracking down a decent rip of Otomo's "Memories" was often the more pressing concern for the discerning fan.
What you're doing is revising cultural history through a lens of current anime fandom. A fandom that loves to segregate itself into niches and hand out rating scores retroactively. Back in the 90s, there was NO best anime here in western fandom. No GREAT anime. We were teens eager to drink in as much of the anime experience as possible: whether it was a con screening of Demon City or Romeo's Blue Skies.
So, until this blog post sheds its rose-tinted, historically dubious glasses, consider my patronage officially withdrawn.
Uh, anonymous, first off, Gunbuster, Bubblegum Crisis and Dominion are from the 1980s. Secondly, "the fervor for Ryvius" is not a thing that ever happened. Thirdly, if I wasn't clear about Adult Swim being integral in Cowboy Bebop's success, that's on me, because it was, without Adult Swim this book (and this review of said book) might not have been written. I mean, I was there, I was in the room when the first Evangelion episode was fansubbed in the US, I was involved in anime clubs and anime fandom in the 1990s; there wasn't nothin' like Cowboy Bebop. Still isn't really. Wanna prove me wrong? Here's 600 blank pages, get to work on that "Infinite Ryvius" guide.
Regarding the dates: While Gunbuster and Bubblegum Crisis originated in Japan in the 80s, their official North American VHS releases didn't happen until 1990 and 1991 respectively. For the Western fans we're discussing, these were absolutely part of the influential and accessible sci-fi catalog during the 90s, directly countering the narrative of a "grim" landscape devoid of quality sci-fi before Bebop's late '99 fansub arrival. My core point remains: the late 90s were not barren.
You also completely skipped over Evangelion (a massive mid-90s phenomenon with huge ongoing impact in the West). You mentioned being 'in the room' when the first episode was fansubbed in the US. Whether that specific anecdote holds or not, the reality is that Evangelion generated immense fan activity, with multiple college groups and individuals actively subbing it and ensuring widespread tape circulation from the mid-90s onwards. Your very mention of being present (if legit) underscores just how significant Evangelion was and demonstrates the thriving fan scene and major sci-fi presence that existed well before Bebop's late '99 fansub arrival. Furthermore, dismissing the buzz around Infinite Ryvius in late '99/2000 doesn't align with the active fansub/online community discussions I (and others) recall. Shows like Martian Successor Nadesico, Outlaw Star, and Trigun were also significant parts of the late 90s sci-fi conversation here.
I appreciate you clarifying the importance of Adult Swim – that actually reinforces my original point. Bebop's ascent to its current legendary status was significantly boosted by its official US release and broadcast visibility from 2001 onwards. Its initial arrival via fansubs in late '99 simply didn't generate the immediate, table-flipping, fandom-defining impact your article implies for the entire Western fandom at that moment. It was well-regarded, yes, but amidst a vibrant scene.
You were there, I was there – fandom wasn't monolithic. My experience, and the historical record of online chatter/fansub circulation from that specific late '99 period, suggests Bebop was initially a cool, stylish addition, not the instant, sole savior of sci-fi anime you portray.
The Ryvius guide challenge feels like a sad deflection from that historical point about Bebop's actual reception timeline in the West. I read your blog to gain insights into aspects of the fandom that I missed out on when mostly just participating in the Midwest goings on. Now I see that what you write is suspect, biased and out of touch with what actually happened in the culture.
well, Anonymous, the truth is that what I write is, of course, absolutely biased; if you're under the impression that I'm attempting to convey anything other than my own personal experiences and opinions, again, that's on me. I've never seen two minutes of Nadescio, Outlaw Star, or Trigun, I had to look Infinite Ryvius up to even know it was an anime series, and I wasn't then or later a participant in discussions, online or otherwise, about Evangelion or any other 90s series that I didn't happen to be reviewing for Anime Jump at the time. As you can see at the header of the Let's Anime blog, I'm interested in anime from 1960-1990, maybe 1995 if we're pushing things. I debated reviewing this Cowboy Bebop book at all, but figured I'd do them a solid, they put six hundred pages into the thing, the least I could do is crank out a few hundred words. As you point out, fandom isn't a monolith, and my experience sitting in the hotel bar at Anime Central 1999 remarking that this Cowboy Bebop thing looked amazing, like nothing else out there, maybe there's hope for the medium after all, well, it isn't something I dreamed up to try to figure out a hook for a book review, that was my honest assessment at the time, and it's one I still hold.
First off, I do appreciate you highlighting the Cowboy Bebop guide. Six hundred pages is a massive effort, and it's good to see such dedicated work get attention. By no means am I trying to insult or dismiss the work of someone who is clearly close to you. You gotta shill what you gotta shill to stay relevant, I get it.
Now, stating you missed Nadesico, Outlaw Star, Trigun, and Ryvius, and did not follow Eva discussions, explains your personal view of the late 90s. But it also shows exactly why your first article felt like it was changing history.
Here’s the thing: your blog does more than share opinions. With all the scanned newsletters, con guides, and fansub details, it acts like a real history source for many people. It carries weight, maybe more than you intend.
Because of that, calling the late 90s "grim" or saying Bebop filled a void for "us anime nerds" creates a problem. You admit you were unaware of the very shows many active fans were watching and discussing then. Given your blog's status, painting Bebop as the sole bright spot, based on your specific view and perhaps enthusiasm for this particular book, risks becoming the accepted story.
Cowboy Bebop was clearly important. But presenting it this way can mislead readers, especially those using your site to understand the past. People new to the era might not grasp the actual range and energy of late 90s anime fandom if your account is taken as the full picture.
See, your use of the phrase "the work of someone who is clearly close to you" is an interesting assumption on your part. I don't know Satoru Stevenson and have had exactly one email exchange with them, the one that was about reviewing the book. I didn't review the book as a favor, I didn't do it to "stay relevant," and if I was "shilling" anything I'd like to think there would be more benefit in it for me than what I'm getting now, which currently consists of being hassled by strangers on the internets. I did it for the same reason I've featured other contemporaneous anime books and fanzines, because I think they're pretty cool and people ought to know about them. That's why I write Let's Anime, I get to write about things I enjoy. That's it. I don't get paid, there aren't any sponsors, nobody sends me screeners or comp copies, most of the emails and comments are spam from online casinos or marketing specialists, if people mention it at all it's in the context of "people still write blogs?" and "you should make videos instead, that's what people like, youtube videos." There's not much in it except the enjoyment of writing and publishing about nonsense I happen to like.
Which is why I stick to my lane. I know what Nadesico and Outlaw Star and Trigun are, I did my time staffing convention anime rooms in the 90s, I've been stuck on stage at costume contests while dozens of people attempted Fushigi Yugi interpretative theater, I've been up to my neck in Battle Athletes and Slayers and Steam Detectives and I'm good, thanks. I've seen enough of them to know they aren't my thing. If they're your thing, great, more power to you. They are officially Not My Problem. If I was to do something so foolish as to attempt to capture the full picture of American anime fandom of the late 1990s - a thing I will never do, swear to God - it would be in something more substantial than two paragraphs of a book review, and I'd advise anyone wanting to research the history of anime fandom in the United States to look up any one of the numerous actual history books on the subject, which are profoundly more rigorous and comprehensive than anything I've ever done (hint: look for footnotes and attributions, those are your keys to actual scholarship).
Perhaps I'll need to adopt an AWO-style disclaimer, just so everyone knows these, too, are just the rantings of holier-than-thou know it alls who are anything but.
At any rate, the actual history that gets posted on this blog- the print fanzines, con guides, video schedules, print advertisements, TV guide listings, club flyers, court documents, and other ephemera - it's there for everyone to see for themselves; my subjective opinions on that history are pretty obviously my own takes, bad or otherwise, and anyone confused by my dismissal of the late 90s anime scene can read this helpful exchange and learn not everyone felt it was a vast wasteland.
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