Monday, November 28, 2022

Otomaru, Noboru Kirishima & Akiko Futaba/Tokyo Taishu Kayo Gakudan -- Namida no Sannin Tabi (涙の三人旅)

 

Song begins around the 35:43 mark

By now, those close to me are keenly aware of the term "Asakusa Bois" and are all too familiar with the subsequent raving reactions from me that follow this term. For the general audience, "Asakusa Bois" is my abridged and colloquial nickname for the ryukoka band Tokyo Taishu Kayo Gakudan (東京大衆歌謡楽団). Most of my good friends at school have had the opportunity to see the early-Showa-era-inspired band in action on the occasion when I invite them for a free showing in the Tokyo area. One such occasion was two Sundays ago. A friend (let's call him Lad A), had been wanting to see the Asakusa Bois he's heard so much of from yours truly, so, together with another fellow (Lad B), we planned to meet at Kameido to see them, with me arriving first at 1pm for the first showing and them for the second. 

A rainy forecast put a snag in the plans when the Gakudan decided to hold their performance indoors at the Kameido Umeyashiki, turning a free-to-watch-for-all into a free-to-watch-for-the-few-who-got-their-hands-on-the-waiting-tickets. The lads and I did not have the tickets, not even for the third and last surprise performance. Mentally defeated after hours of waiting and a lacklustre week, I was ready to throw in the towel. Lad B (much credit to him) was not having it, insisting we ask if we could slide into the venue despite having no tickets... it was that or pretend we were a bunch of impertinent grandchildren looking for their grandmother. Perhaps it was because it was already 5pm, dark and rainy and we were the last poor souls in line, we were allowed entry with no fuss along with a few other ticketless oldies. 

And so, we three hapless folks somehow managed to see the Asakusa Bois, with Lad A impressed and Lad B with temporary hearing issues. We three hapless folks from different lands somehow ended up on foreign grounds with varying goals and personal hardships. Not wholly unlike our three disparate characters in "Namida no Sannin Tabi", if I do say so myself.

"Namida no Sannin Tabi" was the first instance of a trio in old Japanese music I've come across, I think. Originally sung by geisha Otomaru (音丸), the stage-fright-struck Noboru Kirishima (霧島昇), and the crooner Akiko Futaba (二葉あき子) in 1937, I was introduced to this tune by none other than the Asakusa Bois with their penchant for showcasing hidden gems of the early Showa era. As with many of the numbers they introduce, what drew me to "Namida no Sannin Tabi" was its rather intense bouncy beat amplified by Ryuzaburo's (龍三郎) bass, bearing similarity to determined footsteps filled with purpose. Keishiro's (圭四郎) plucky banjo was reminiscent of the shamisen. Then Kotaro's (孝太郎) resounding vocals becoming the voice of each character really caught my attention, spurring me to explore further and discover the original.

The original take

Yoshi Eguchi (江口夜詩) turned out to be the one behind this forlorn melody. Complementing this is Yaso Saijo's (西条八十) narrative which tells of an encounter between three travellers at the docks one moonlit night waiting for a boat. Realising they're headed towards the same destination, they proceed with self-introductions. Getting the ball rolling is a shamisen-playing singer aptly played by Otomaru, who roams the lands showcasing her craft and trying to forget a past love. Hearing this, Kirishima in the form of a homesick travelling actor speaks up, telling how his pursuit of the roving yakuza lifestyle led him to abandon his family. The last of the boat's passengers is an orphan on an arduous journey with the hope of finding her family, whom Futaba took the role of. In typical later-day enka style, the three find kinship through their shared anguish. 

I don't believe the lads and I are in such depressing circumstances and rather than shared anguish, we have shared monke brain. That said, we are, indeed, three characters who converged at this point in our respective journeys. And even though I usually do enka-related stuff on my own, I appreciated watching the band with them.




To explain what this is, it's part of the repertoire list where I record the Gakudan's selection for the performances I catch. I was trying to recall a song from the encore when Lad B decided to help... I mean, he's not wrong. I did say I felt like I was going to have a heart attack when I saw the band members up close after many months. 

P.S. Recently, the Asakusa Bois has grown to include three more members in their early and mid-20s. I believe their names are Tomoya, Naruki, and Kanta, but they also go by the stage names Tomigoro, Sairoku, and Shichibei respectively. Very apt to be called "five", "six" and "seven", when the original literally go by "one", "two", "three" and "four". They're nice additions to the Gakudan, with Tomigoro and Sairoku on guitar and Shichibei with the tamborine. Even better, they usually make their entrance with a buyo (traditional Japanese dance) number accompanying the main four. 

P.S.S. I just went to see the Asakusa Bois for their Tori no Ichi festival performance near the Otori Shrine and they actually did "Namida no Sannin Tabi"! It's one of my favourites from them but it's relatively uncommon to hear it at their shows, so I was really glad to hear it this time - with the rarer "China Tango", even! At that moment, the pressure of final assignments dissipated. 

1 comment:

  1. Hello, Noelle.
    Good to hear from you and I hope that you are able to finish off your assignments as we approach the end of the year.

    Thanks very much for relating not only "Namida no Sannin Tabi" but also the personal story behind it. I'm glad that you were able to catch your heroes performing despite the inclement weather. I think it was probably a fairly rare thing to see three famous individual singers get together to perform a song back then. The stories within the lyrics and among the singers would almost symbolize an "Avengers"-style meeting within the kayo world. Eguchi's melody also strikes me as being reminiscent of a joined adventure that needed to be experienced.

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