Keiko Fuji -- Inochi Azukemasu（命預けます）

 

The above 2016 YouTube video by Vinyl Guide Podcast shows off the Tower Records branch near the top of the massive Yodobashi Akiba electronics store in Akihabara. It's been a place that I frequented in the last few years of my time in the Tokyo area and it used to take up far more space, but because of the falling purchases of compact discs in the last several years, it's had to halve its capacity. I managed to visit the place again during both of my return visits there in 2014 and 2017 and the entire Akiba complex with its wealth of electronics downstairs and restaurants upstairs has made it a must-see each time. VGP's purpose for this video was to show the modest collection of LPs back then.

But as they say, that was then...this is now. When I woke up this morning, NHK News actually presented a feature focusing on the sudden skyrocketing in popularity of vinyl, and although it didn't show the old Akiba Tower Records, it did show my beloved Shibuya HQ branch and man, was I surprised to see an entire sea (or floor) of LPs! I used to go there when there were either no records at all or just a small bin of them. However, they've obviously multiplied like rabbits since then, and the reporter mentioned that the growing love for Japanese City Pop in the last few years has been one factor.

Along with the album covers showing folks like Toshiki Kadomatsu（角松敏生）, Mariya Takeuchi（竹内まりや）and Eiichi Ohtaki（大滝詠一）, I also saw an LP for one of the most famous representatives of Mood Kayo/enka, the late Keiko Fuji（藤圭子）. It's been a while since I've put up an article here for her, so to hear her low vocals with their mostly smooth but slightly ragged edges once more was a nice feeling.

Her 4th single was "Inochi Azukemasu" (I Give You My Life) released in July 1970. Written and composed by Masao Ishizaka（石坂まさを）, and as is often the case with a Fuji ballad, the tempo is slow and lonely as she croons a tale of a forlorn woman who humbly offers herself to any man who would be willing to accept her. I can imagine Fuji singing this in some sort of seedy club in Kabukicho with half the audience listening to her while the other half is too busy nattering away drunkenly with a buddy or a date. However, she keeps that brave stoic face and does her gig for whatever she can get from the club owner.

The story behind the creation of the song is also quite interesting, according to J-Wiki. Fuji and Ishizaka went out drinking to presumably some fairly swanky establishment and when they were at the cloakroom, the attendant politely asked them to leave any valuables. Fuji then responded "I don't have any valuables to leave but would my life suffice?". Ishizaka turned around and both grinned after which he complimented her on her remark and said that he would need to use it somehow in a song. Since I do love to snark, I could only imagine that the attendant must have muttered something later along the lines of "They don't pay me enough for this."

"Inochi Azukemasu" hit No. 3 on Oricon and sold just a little over a million records. Fuji also won accolades for the song including the General Public Award at the Japan Record Awards that year. With that voice and her serious demeanor in the video above, if her age hadn't been put out there on the screen, I would have guessed that she was far older than those 19 years. It just seems a tad odd to hear this particular song done by a full orchestra in front of a whole bunch of reporters, fans and photographers. "Inochi Azukemasu" is something that is more ideally suited in that small and smoky venue with a small musical unit and Fuji gently strumming the guitar. 

At the end of 1970, though, Fuji made the first of her five appearances on NHK's Kohaku Utagassen, but not to perform this particular song but "Yume wa Yoru Hiraku"（夢は夜ひらく）.