I've mentioned some time back that I actually knew Tadaharu Nakano (中野忠晴) as a composer first. His name I often saw attached to tunes by Hachiro Kasuga (春日八郎), Michiya Mihashi (三橋美智也), and their other King Records colleagues, some of these songs becoming massive hits in the later-day enka world. But ever since I began digging into his early-day musical activities, having to reconcile the image of postwar hit-making songwriter Nakano with the prewar slick jazz singer Nakano took a bit of time. Listening some familiar favourites from Hachi and Michi and then realizing its that Mr. Nakano behind the music was mind-blowing. Among the these many pleasant revelations, the one that gave me the biggest reaction was Hachi's "Ruten no Yoru". To help you visualize what that was like, here is an emote: (*´艸`).
"Ruten no Yoru" would probably fall within my current Top 10 Hachi songs. So knowing that one of these beloved tunes by an artist that sits squarely at the top of my list composed by a musician who became my latest fixation is nothing short of a happy time. Hence, the expressive reaction to such a mundane piece of information.
"Ruten no Yoru" was released early in Hachi's musical career on August 1955. While the music was done by Mr. Nakano, the lyrics were penned by Tetsuro Fujima (藤間哲郎). From Jisho.org, the term "Ruten" can mean constant change or vicissitudes, a sudden, usually unwelcomed change in circumstances. From my understanding of Fujima's words, our song protagonist faced such an unwelcomed change one night in the form of a heartbreak. This loss seemed to have hit him hard as he's already portrayed to be weary from the get go, and for the rest of the song he struggles to come to terms with the loss. The forlornness of Nakano's melody, derived from the lonesome drone of the flute and languid strings, complements our bummed out hero's state of mind. I also feel that it's a perfect fit for Hachi whose vocal delivery usually expresses sad longing. It's not hard to imagine the protagonist's deflated figure as he wanders aimlessly through a bar-filled alley, try to use alcohol and singing to quell his sadness. Yet, there is also a somewhat carefree and cheerful quality in Nakano's composition that suggests that our protagonist is trying to be positive. Perhaps it's a case of jolly, tough exterior to the depressed, soft interior.
Oddly enough, this theme of constant change in circumstances and a happy-exterior-sad-interior reminded me of Hachi's own situation at the time. According to his autobiography "Futari no Sakamichi" (ふたりの坂道) (1980) a Hachi who shot to stardom via the popularity of "Otomi-san" (お富さん) was in a pickle. He was glad for the limelight, but the kabuki-themed ditty was a host to heavy criticism for allegedly ruining the minds of young kids and was too simple a tune for Hachi's liking. Hachi didn't want to be remembered for such a song which he felt didn't showcase his musical capabilities. But with its explosive success, how was any other of his works going to surpass that? Was the musical career he fought so hard to achieve going to just fizzle out like a firework? And so, while rattling off the very jolly "Otomi-san" at recitals, he was mostly fretting over his future. Throughout the rest of 1954 and the most of 1955, he hoped each recording session would produce a hit that rivaled the 1954 success. 22 songs were recorded in 1955, "Ruten no Yoru" being one of them, but they just couldn't do it. So I can imagine that Hachi's state of mind may have been similar to our featured tune's protagonist at the time of its recording. Lucky for him, a change in his fortunes came at his 23rd in November of that year with "Wakare no Ippon Sugi" (別れの一本杉). Now, he's remembered as "The Preeminent Enka Singer."
In 1972, "Ruten no Yoru" was re-recorded along with Hachi's other major works and appeared in "Kasuga Hachiro Deluxe 3 Shuu" (春日八郎デラックス３集). I'd been listening to this version for the most part until recently when I wanted to hear Mr. Nakano's original melody. Now, I actually prefer the 1955 original. Hachi's vocal quality, while dropping an octave (?), never lost the tune's sadness and the modern take has a richer arrangement. But the variety of sounds from various instruments, coupled with a more interesting, halting arrangement made for a better aural experience for me. Listening to it in the quiet of night makes it particularly atmospheric and listening to it when I'm worn out makes it more resonant.
Finally, to wrap up this article's theme of changing circumstances, let's on touch on Mr. Nakano's transition from vocalist at Columbia Records to full-time composer at King Records after the war. This move seemed to have due to a couple of factors which I gathered from a blog by one named haguruhaguru, who cited a thesis on Nakano by Hiroyuki Kondo (近藤博之) from 2004. One reason was that Mr. Nakano had riled the powers that be in Columbia with his attitude during his heyday, which may have made the company resistant to sign him back on after the war. If I may add to that with what I'd garnered from Gyoji Osada's (長田暁二) "Showa Kayo" (昭和歌謡) (2017): At this very time, many other renowned singers from the prewar era also found themselves untethered as their record companies were literally in shambles from the Tokyo bombings. I remember reading that saucy songstress Noriko Awaya (淡谷のり子) got unceremoniously let go by Columbia via missive with a 100 yen bill attached. Ouch. So, perhaps, this may have compounded with Nakano's rather selfish behaviour, leading to Columbia's decision despite Nakano's decade-or-so-long tenure in the company.
The other reason cited for Mr. Nakano's move was feeling that his vocal quality had deteriorated. So, rather than roaming the G.I. bases doing jazz gigs like many other jazz musicians and earning far less, he ventured into the beverage business with a friend from his hometown of Ehime in hopes of earning far more. Unfortunately or fortunately, that didn't come to pass so he returned to music to pay off debt incurred from the business venture. Instead of Columbia (due to earlier mentioned possible strained relations), he signed on with King Records in via a recommendation by an acquaintance and the rest was history. Oddly enough, Mr. Nakano signed on to King Records in 1952, which was when Hachi debuted. Coincidence? I think yes. But quite a nice one for a fan of both :). What a fascinating turn of events.
Hello, Noelle. Thanks for providing not only "Ruten no Yoru" but also quite the story behind it. The song fulfills that usual kayo kyoku trope of having a cheery and wistful melody playing over some sad lyrics. Indeed, the later version has a bit more of a polished nightclubby sheen to it with that bluesy electric guitar in there.
ReplyDeleteNakano's history as a singer and then an even more famous songwriter reminds me of Masaaki Hirao who came up with a ton of different songs for different singers for decades but had first begun his career as an Elvis-loving rockabilly singer.
Hi, J-Canuck.
DeleteOh yeah, Hirao. Indeed, I only knew a couple of songs from his rockabilly days and I am far more familiar with his contributions to the likes of Hiroshi Itsuki. Another character I can think of who made that singer-to-composer transition is Isao Hayashi. Hayashi and Hirao both continued singing to some degree in later days and appeared on music shows fairly often. I wish Mr. Nakano had done so too, but I guess he was adamant on keeping away from the mic :').