TOKYO — A generation ago, Makoto Baba would have been just another job-hopping loser. But the 26-year-old aspiring musician represents a new breed of Japanese who are defying past standards of success by working temporary jobs to finance their dreams — becoming a dancer, poet or even a farmer.

The ranks of such "freeters" — a combination of the English "free" and "arbeiter," the German word for "worker" — have ballooned in recent years, surpassing 4 million, more than double the number in 1990, according to Japanese government research.

But fears are growing among business and government leaders that an apparently unmotivated generation may fail to acquire the skills needed to keep the country globally competitive.

Like Baba — whose first love is taiko, traditional Japanese drums — freeters symbolize a changing Japan, where younger people are more assertive and seek out spiritual fulfillment rather than the material comforts and social status sought by their parents and grandparents.

Japan's changing business climate also has contributed to the number of freeters. Demand for cheaper, part-time workers is increasing as companies try to stay globally competitive and cut back on hiring full-time employees with generous benefit packages.

And the growing income gap emerging between freeters and those with stable jobs is exacerbating the relatively new divisions in a society where nearly everyone was considered middle class just a decade or two ago.

Most freeters make about $18,000 a year, experts estimate, while the average annual income for a full-time employee is roughly $63,000.

The government is concerned that such a gap could erode tax revenues — a major worry in a country with growing ranks of elderly who are dependent on state-run pension and healthcare systems. Businesses, nonprofit groups and government offices alike have set up study groups to tackle the so-called "freeter problem."

Meanwhile, the welfare system hasn't kept up with the times to respond to part-time workers, who do not get the same pension benefits as full-time workers, says Michiko Miyamoto, a professor at University of the Air, a respected school that provides education through broadcasts, and an author of books on freeters.

"Young people want to work more freely," Miyamoto said. "They want to explore their own potential and want a moratorium period before they settle down."

During decades of modernization after World War II, freeters didn't even exist as a category, with unemployment at stunning 2 percent levels. Jobless rates have recently hovered around mid-4 percent levels — high by Japanese standards.

At one time, the Japanese dream was to land a job at a corporation that promised lifetime employment. That myth was shattered in the late 1980s when big-name companies announced massive layoffs to cut costs and stay afloat.

Still, Baba, a graduate of the prestigious Tokyo University of Foreign Studies, was a prime candidate for an elite job, even in post-bubble Japan.

Instead, he has tutored students, fielded telephone calls, helped families move and swept rooftops — all to earn a living so that he can pursue his dream of performing as a taiko artist with a professional band called Amanojaku.

What the band pays him is not enough to cover his rent.

"I've chosen the path of taiko — and being a freeter is part of that endeavor," said Baba, who has played in the United States and recently appeared in a TV ad in Japan. "Taiko mirrors who you are. I beat, express and create myself."

That kind of individualistic approach to life may not be so unusual in the United States or Europe, where switching jobs is more common and there is generally more freedom to pursue creative goals.

But in Japan, freeters are still generally considered wayward youngsters who need to grow up.

As their numbers grow, a cottage industry has sprung up to help freeters find jobs or internships or alerting them to interesting opportunities.

Yasuyuki Nambu, head of job-referral company Pasona Inc., who claims to be "the original freeter," has made this a new branch of his booming business. One program allows freeters to try out farming.

"Up to now, it may have been enough to simply pursue affluence," Nambu said in a speech to the Tokyo Foreign Correspondents Club of Japan. "Now, people are beginning to feel that true affluence is more internal."

Toshihiro Sakuma, 29, is seriously considering becoming a farmer after taking part in a Pasona internship. He has also worked part time at a movie theater and an archaeological site.

But in true freeter fashion, he says he isn't quite sure what he'll be doing next year.

"Some jobs were hard but it was all fun," he recalls. "I don't regret any of it. And every job was worth it."