Tadaharu Nakano -- Kougen no Uta (高原の唄)

Natsu da! Natsu da yo, Mr. Nakano!

When you think of Masao Koga (古賀政男), one of the fathers of kayokyoku and sometimes cited as (but highly debatably so) the Father of Enka, you likely think of his dark yonanuki (pentatonic scale) minor melodies that relay gloom and angst through that all too familiar lonely guitar or mandolin sound. "Kage wo Shitaite" (影を慕いて). "Jinsei no Namiki Michi"(人生の並木路). "Yu no Machi no Elegy" (湯の町エレジー).  These are often cited as the quintessential Koga Melody and, in the "Father of Enka" discourse, the roots of enka. But Koga sensei had way more up his sleeve and created music in a myriad of different styles, themes, and moods. "Midori no Chiheisen" (緑の地平線). "Konna Watashi Janakatta ni"(こんな私じゃなかったに). "Koi no Manjushage" (恋の曼珠沙華). 

The singer most associated with Koga Melody is probably Ichiro Fujiyama (藤山一郎); many of the Fujiyama-Koga combos becoming some of the most beloved evergreen tunes. Another is Shigeo Kusunoki (楠木繁夫), the two of them being the best of friends. But Koga sensei also composed for many other singers, but unfortunately those pieces were overshadowed by the aforementioned hits and overlooked by mainstream media. Today, I shall put the spotlight on a tune which one is unlikely to notice that it's a Koga creation which was sung by a singer one wouldn't associate with the venerable composer: Tadaharu Nakano's (中野忠晴) "Kougen no Uta" (lit. Plateau Song).

"Kougen no Uta" was released on 1st July 1932 and was the 2nd official single by the fresh-faced tenor who had only just graduated from Musashino Music School four months earlier. Mr. Nakano's most well-known for his foray in jazz and work with Koga's compatriot Ryoichi Hattori (服部良一), but he recorded a few Koga compositions early in his career, including his debut song, before the composer's move from Columbia to Teichiku Records in 1934 (he moved back to Columbia around 1939 or so). Unfortunately, “Kougen no Uta” did not seem to be a particular success, its release sandwiched between and thus overshadowed by debut tune “Yogiri no Minato” (夜霧の港) and Olympic theme “Hashire Daichi” (国際オリンピック選手派遣応援歌-走れ大地).

Listening to "Kougen no Uta," I'd say that besides the familiar sound of the group of mandolins strumming away in the back (brought to you by the Meiji Mandolin Orchestra), its overall profile did not feel like the Koga Melody I'd been exposed to for the longest time. In fact, it didn't sound Japanese or particularly Western either. It had an oriental sound that felt North Korean or Chinese to my ears, but I could be completely wrong. If it was indeed the case, though, I wonder if Koga's formative years in Korea had anything to do with it. Or it could simply be of the Meiji-Taisho enka sound. Either way, it's got a refreshing feel that makes it perfect for early summer.

コロムビア月報６月（昭和７）
From the National Diet Library Archives　

To Koga's melody, Yoshifumi Shimada (島田芳文) wrote the words depicting a scenery of verdant nature out in the great outdoors. It's as if you’re on a hike through the woods in the mountains taking in that sweet fresh air. The bird chirps in the earlier half of “Kougen no Uta” makes the musical hiking experience more immersive. But what I love most about this song is Shimada’s artful description of the progression of time the day spent in the woods: The morning dew on the leaves of a white lily in the mountain valley, the indigo silhouette of the distant mountains, and the white birch leaves whispering as the moon shines over the marshlands. You know the bird chirps? Since the second half of the song narrates night taking over the green valley, it makes sense to not have the bird sounds in that section. 

Mr. Nakano’s more straightforward and relatively stiff delivery, reflective of the singing style when the Showa era was still in single digits, somehow makes “Kougen no Uta” sound a bit more raw. It’s as if we’re listening to a fellow hiker relay the beauty of nature and summer while trudging along a forest trail.

I was reading a little on "Kougen no Uta" in the July edition of the 1932 Columbia Records Monthlies, and it mentioned that it was created in a similar vein to the earlier released "Camp Kouta" (キャンプ小唄), what with the same lyricist-composer team. Both certainly give off that summer outdoorsy vibe, but Mr. Nakano's tune seems more forlorn and introspective in comparison to Mr. Fujiyama's lighthearted ode to camping. On that note, considering the number of tunes featuring these outdoor activities in the early to mid-1930s, it seemed like hiking and camping were all the rage back then. Maybe it was to strike a balance with the hustle and bustle of the city centers.

Despite not being a traditional Koga Melody or Nakano jazz number, I love “Kougen no Uta” very much for the reasons above. Had I heard it before my Mr. Nakano birthday dedication article, this would certainly have been included. 

Now that summer is in full swing here in Japan, the cycling trail near home base has become quite lush - a little less so now because of some weed-whacking. It flanks a river, cuts through rice fields, and on clear days you can see the mountains in the distance. As I cycle down the trail in the recent days, I can't help by feel how apt the atmosphere of "Kougen no Uta" is to the scenery before me... even if my part of town is probably more a no or susono dotted with tanbo than kougen, and I can see the next bit of town before I can the mountains. Still, it's now become one of my summer cycling songs.

Rodgers and Hart -- Lover

 

No, I'm painfully aware that I'm not young anymore but I'm not quite THAT old yet. Admittedly, though, this is going to be one of the more unusual ROY articles for this Thursday since the origins of this song go far back to the year 1932. So, if you can bear with me for a few paragraphs, I can let you know where the youth (well, toddlerhood) part of this comes in.

According to Wikipedia, the popular song "Lover" by the legendary songwriting team of Lorenz Hart and Richard Rodgers was created in 1932 and first used in the musical flick "Love Me Tonight" starring Maurice Chevalier and Jeanette MacDonald. Ironically, I'd thought that the song, from its title, was this sweeping romantic waltz for the lovers in all of us but when McDonald sung it, her character was trying to control an uncontrollable horse, so it was more of a comical thing.

It's been covered numerous times over the century in its sung version and as an instrumental piece. The cover above is by Paul Whiteman and his Orchestra with Jack Fulton as the vocalist as recorded in 1933.

Maybe the one cover that is most generally known is the one by the famous Boston Pops Orchestra led by Arthur Fiedler and then John Williams (yes, that John Williams). I've known about the Boston Pops since I was literally a baby because they were often on that compilation of five LPs by RCA Victor when we got our huge oaken stereo. It was labeled "50 Years Of Hits In Stereo" and was the source for all of my nostalgic love for the standards through the Pops, Bing & Rosemary, Henry Mancini, etc.

I don't know when exactly Fiedler and the Pops first recorded their version of "Lover" but interestingly enough, their majestic version wasn't included on "50 Years Of Hits In Stereo". By this time, I've heard this "Lover" frequently, and it certainly feels like it was meant for dozens of couples traipsing joyfully all over the ballroom floor. The strings and the French horns are absolutely exquisite, and really, I can't imagine any horses trying to be calmed down with this take.

Ahhh...this is where the ROY comes in although I was indeed far younger. Speaking of "50 Years Of Hits In Stereo", there was a version of "Lover" among the discs but this was the one done by bandleader and pianist Marty Gold and his Orchestra. Originally his cover showed up on his August 1960 album "Skin Tight", and this was my first exposure to the Rodgers and Hart classic.

Man, this was one swinging blast! Gold arranged things so that he threw trumpets, trombones, saxophones, percussion and even a crazed timpani into this massive jazz party march. If it had been used in a movie, his "Lover" wouldn't have been calming down a horse or inviting dancers for a waltz; instead it would have been instigating one of the classiest chase scenes involving the Rat Pack...while they were sipping martinis...very dry ones.

It's hard for me to choose which one I prefer, the Fiedler waltz or the Gold swinger.

Anyways, seeing that "Lover" was born in 1932, let's see if we can merely bring back the three songs that have already been written on "Kayo Kyoku Plus" from that year.

Ichiro Fujiyama -- Kage wo Shitaite（影を慕いて）

Masao Suzuki -- Tankō Bushi（炭坑節）

Fumiko Yotsuya -- Ginza no Yanagi （銀座の柳）

Hibari Misora/Ichiro Fujiyama -- Kage wo Shitaite（影を慕いて）

Recently, I played an old 33 rpm record of some of Hibari Misora's（美空ひばり）hits which included "Kage wo Shitaite", a very sad enka song written and composed by Masao Koga（古賀政男）that was originally recorded back in 1931 by Chiyoko Sato（佐藤千夜子）.

Now, our resident enka enthusiast Noelle Tham had written a Creator's article based on the works of Koga in which she explained a little bit about the genesis of "Kage wo Shitaite" (Longing for the Shadow). The song was born out of despair which came to a head in the summer of 1928 when Koga was around his mid-20s and was planning to commit suicide due to the feeling of darkness that had been pervading him with the arrival of Modernism to Japan. However, fortunately for him and for all of his future fans, he was able to get out of that self-destructive cycle and put his frustration onto paper and into song instead.

One reason that I decided to do a follow-up of sorts after Noelle's 2017 description was that this was another Misora ballad that I had been hearing for years probably starting when I was a small kid, and I've placed her "Kage wo Shitaite" alongside "Kanashii Sake"（悲しい酒）as her most tear-inducing works. If there is a certain similarity between them, it's probably because Koga had also composed the latter song. The evolution in recording techniques aside between Sato's original in 1931 and the possible recording of Misora's cover in 1969, there is a certain Misora-esque grandeur in her version although that same poignant mandolin intro has remained constant in the many covers by other singers.

When I listened to Sato's original via Noelle's article, my impression was that the song took on a simpler but operatic quality as if it had certainly been meant to be sung in front of others but also in humbler surroundings, among friends and/or fellow barflies. In a movie, I would have seen the formerly jollity in the drinking establishment dissipate temporarily for customers to reflect on their station in life over their drinks.

Ichiro Fujiyama's（藤山一郎）version came out in March 1932 and it was noticeable by how quickly that mandolin opening went before that melancholy tone set in once more. Plus, it sounds like that the instrument contributed a little more before a fuller orchestra entered the picture. Fujiyama's cover came across as the one that would have been performed on a radio program. Of course, Fujiyama and Sato have different voices but that common mournful quality still wafts through the air.

One other reason that I put up "Kage wo Shitaite" is that it has made for an interesting comparison with an American standard by one of the foremost authors of the Great American Songbook, Irving Berlin. Somewhere in my cardboard boxes is Ken Burns' multi-volume DVD discourse on jazz and I remember that the song "What'll I Do?" was given some attention. According to the Wikipedia article for the song, Berlin had created it as a forlorn inquiry following the end of a romantic relationship, although I had remembered it (perhaps wrongly) on the Burns DVD as his despairing message over the death of a loved one.

I'm not sure how jazz purists have felt about Linda Ronstadt's tackling of the standards through her 1983 album "What's New?", but I purchased my copy of the album years ago, and I still love her take on "What'll I Do?".

Masao Suzuki/Michiya Mihashi -- Tankō Bushi（炭坑節）

This article is a sequel of sorts to my talk with my new friend, Aja, who has been practicing Japanese dance for years, Yesterday, she sent me a list of various songs that she has known, and one of them was "Tanko Bushi" (Coal Mine Melody). Now that song rang a whole lot of memory bells since I've not only heard the classic minyo but I've actually danced to it.

Let me explain. 30 years ago when I was an undergraduate at the University of Toronto, the Japanese-Canadian Students' Association (as it was called back then) had just begun its time at the St. George Campus in downtown Toronto. Not long after its genesis, we heard an advertisement for some cultural festival that was to be held, and I believe one of the components was a demonstration of the world's dances. So, one of our more effervescent members, Yoko, who had experience in dance, wanted to get a small group together to demonstrate Japan's "Tanko Bushi". My good friend, Laura, (who introduced me to Aja), myself and a few others decided to take part and so we learned how to dance it in the large common room of the residence where Yoko had lived. And the dance was practiced as how you see it above in the training video.

Somehow our motley crew got our act together and when the dance demonstration was done at the main auditorium of the Medical Sciences Building, we not only did it but we did it a second time inviting members of some of the other dance troupes. It worked out pretty well but I distinctly remember (and felt) the participating member of the Jewish Students' Union accidentally smacking me in the knees during the second run. No offense taken, though, obviously.

"Tanko Bushi" was originally recorded back in 1932. According to Wikipedia, the most popular version was the one recorded by minyo singer Masao Suzuki（鈴木正夫）, although it didn't state whether Suzuki's take was the very first recording (his career lasted from 1931 to his death in 1961). It is, though, the recording that our JCSA group followed.

The minyo is known as a folk song from Fukuoka Prefecture and at this time, it is said to have originated in the city of Tagawa with the lyrics referring to the old Miike Coal Mine. As for those lyrics and the melody, I couldn't find any record of who created the song unfortunately.

From what I've read, there have been a number of variations on "Tanko Bushi", so I'm sure enka and other kayo singers over the last century and into this one have given their renditions. The legendary Michiya Mihashi（三橋美智也）gave his contribution in 1956 according to the description under the above YouTube video with Kikutaro Takahashi（高橋掬太郎）providing some more lyrics and Toshiro Yamaguchi（山口俊郎）giving perhaps a more mellower enka-like feeling to the proceedings. Perhaps it can still be danced to.

Anyways, I'm providing the translation for the song below. It comes straight from the Wikipedia article on "Tanko Bushi".

The moon, has come out,
Oh, the moon is out, heave ho
Over Miike Coal Mine has the moon come out.
The chimney is so high,
I wonder if the moon chokes on the smoke...
Heave Ho!

Fumiko Yotsuya -- Ginza no Yanagi （銀座の柳）

It's a pity that I couldn't get any photos of Ginza in the daytime during my last visit to Tokyo a couple of years ago but it was only just that one Saturday night I went to that expensive neighbourhood. When I was living there, I often visited the area a couple of weekends per month and perhaps even fit in a visit sometime during the weekdays if I had a good amount of free time between classes.

Yeah, there are establishments there (dining, shopping, etc.) that will make your credit card roll up into a fetal position. However, like any other area in the Big Sushi, if you get to know Ginza well and long enough, you will find some pretty reasonable places. Heck, Ginza has a McDonalds! Visiting Ginza on the weekends was great when the weather was good since vehicular traffic would be stopped for a period of 5 hours starting from about noon so that folks can enjoy the hokoten  (pedestrian paradise) with tables and chairs set up all along the main drag of Chuo Dori.

I've already written about a couple of favourite places in Ginza such as Ginza Yamano Music and Genkatsu on Chuo Dori which serves some fine tonkatsu. However, there is also the stationery shop Ginza Ito-ya (Japanese site only) with the huge red paper clip as its landmark; I used to go there to pick up calendars and greeting cards. I wasn't much of a department store purchaser but right on one corner of the main intersection of 4-chome, there is the Mitsukoshi Department Store which added a few more floors in the last couple of years of my stint in Tokyo for some pretty nice restaurants. But before then, I often went there to make use of their spic n' span washrooms (Yamano Music only has one set of washrooms and the ones at Ito-ya are surprisingly primitive..at least back then). And of course, just a little out of the way there is the Sony Building closer to Yurakucho.

Back on Monday, I was watching one of those myriad NHK documentary half-hours on TV Japan, and the theme for that show was on Ginza with the focus on some of those venerable shops that have managed to survive and thrive into the 21st century. There was one song that was playing during those 30 minutes called "Ginza no Yanagi" (The Willows of Ginza). Originally released in 1932 as the theme song for a movie with the same title, it was sung by Tokyo-born singer Fumiko Yotsuya（四家文子）. The song became a huge breakthrough hit for Yotsuya and was created by lyricist Yaso Saijo（西條八十）and composer Shinpei Nakayama（中山晋平）. It was a song in dedication to the willow trees in Ginza which had burned down in the Great Kanto Earthquake in 1923. And if I got my translation correct, I think it was also a reboot of sorts of the song "Tokyo Koushin Kyoku"（東京行進曲...Tokyo March） from 1929 as sung by Chiyoko Sato（佐藤千夜子）.

Although I couldn't see the song listed on any of her singles, Mina Aoe（青江三奈）gave her own swingy version of "Ginza no Yanagi". Unfortunately, I couldn't track down exactly when she sang her cover although from listening to the arrangement, it was most likely sometime in the late 1960s or early 1970s.

There are no huge clumps of trees in Ginza, at least, certainly not along Chuo Dori aside from some individual trees placed at periodic intervals. This is too bad since having a good amount of green could alleviate some of that horrifying heat and humidity of a Tokyo summer especially since most of it is reflected from the concrete. Still, if you can just avoid the summer (I'll leave it up to you whether you decide to go over for the 2020 Olympics), it's a nice entertaining walk through Ginza.