I've been a fan of Japanese popular music for 40 years, and have managed to collect a lot of material during that time. So I decided I wanted to talk about Showa Era music with like-minded fans. My particular era is the 70s and 80s (thus the "kayo kyoku"). The plus part includes a number of songs and artists from the last 30 years and also the early kayo. So, let's talk about New Music, aidoru, City Pop and enka.
Credits
I would like to give credit where credit is due. Videos are from YouTube and other sources such as NicoNico while Oricon rankings and other information are translated from the Japanese Wikipedia unless noted.
This has been called the oldest underground mall in Tokyo. Japan's capital is one of many cities in the country that has a plethora of underground malls so it's something to hear that the network of restaurants, bars and other shops below the traditional quarter of Asakusa is the oldest. And it's one place that I walked through many times during my two years working at the NOVA branch there in the 1990s.
Over the weekend, NHK showed one of its documentaries focusing on the Asakusa Underground, and I was surprised/not surprised that it hadn't changed one iota in the past thirty years. The subterranean community still looks very earthy, grungy and grimy. I still remember the combined smell of oil, soy sauce and most likely sweat whenever I walked through the place to get to the other side of the street without having to wait at the intersection for the signal to change to green.
Apparently, there have been two different kayo kyoku titled "Asakusa no Uta"(Asakusa Song): one from the prewar era and one after the war. The one I'm posting about here today is the 1947 version recorded by veteran Ichiro Fujiyama（藤山一郎）. Written by Hachiro Sato（ｻﾄｳ ﾊﾁﾛｰ）and composed by Tadashi Manjome（万城目正）, Fujiyama sings "Asakusa no Uta" in his characteristic jaunty style as he describes the hustle and bustle and the million stories that have been told in the venerable neighbourhood. I'm sure the Underground has a good chunk of those stories, and to be honest, I wouldn't mind a silver dish of that yakisoba made down there.
By the way, I did post on another Asakusa-themedkayo kyoku back in 2016 titled "Asakusa Shimai"（浅草姉妹）by the Komadori Shimai（こまどり姉妹）.
It's been a hot minute since I've gone through Batayan's repertoire. And by hot minute, I mean five years. At least. Of course, my all-time favourites were constantly on rotation over the years and that affable greeting of his never gets old. But, another expedition into what more he has on offer was long overdue, and so that's what I've been doing lately.
"Hyotan Jitterbug" is at the 7:00 mark
To reaccustom myself to Yoshio Tabata's (田端義夫) other works, I tuned into one of those long album videos on YouTube as I surfed the 'gram for food ideas. This video turned out to be the very same one I used to love back in the day. In it was nine of the electric guitar-wielding singer's works with a 1960s-swing-style facelift to the melodies, giving them a more contemporary and snazzy sound. Among them, the jubilant "Hyotan Jitterbug" (the latter written as "jiruba") brought back a wave of nostalgia as the tinkling keys of the piano's introduction rang out and its jazzy beat came crashing in. I loved its fun-loving vibe then and I still love it now despite the many-year gap.
The original take
"Hyotan Jitterbug" was a postwar entry in Tabata's discography created by composer Akira Michinoku (陸奥明) and lyricist Shingo Kato (加藤省吾) in 1947. Likely overshadowed by his later solemn hits, this funky ditty mostly stayed relatively under the radar. That said, I've always known Batayan as a pretty versatile artist - I'm convinced he did any genre as long as he could play it on his guitar, so a swing tune like this just felt very him, no questions asked. What's more, in his unique high tone seemed to be a hint of mischief as he played the role of a carefree drifter with, I'm assuming, a dried gourd filled with sake by his side, enjoying life as it comes. Very Batayan indeed.
(Sorry but the video has been taken down.)
The video above is an instrumental version of "Hyotan Jiruba". It comes from "Batayan no Guitar Meienshu" (バタヤンのギター名演集), released on 18th February 2015, which features Batayan's beloved electric guitar front and centre.
I would like to personally thank the 100 yen stores for enabling me.
P.S. Ever since I began living on my own, I make it a point to make every house a home. Friends jokingly call it my 'Husbando Shrine' - I insist it's a 'Husbando Shelf'. Either way, it's a must and one of the first things that go up after a move. Priorities, am I right? Recently, I thought I should showcase more bromides, so I've added a couple of fellows to the mix. Since they're the flavours of the season, Batayan and Hai-Katsu have temporarily joined my Big 3. In hindsight, I suppose it was long overdue that I have a Batayan thing displayed. He's been a constant presence since my first foray into ryukoka, after all.
Lately, I've been in one of my early ryukoka phases. It's when I predominantly listen to songs from the 1930s to the early 1950s or so. It's most certainly because of the influence of Tokyo Taishu Kayo Gakudan (東京大衆歌謡楽団) and taking Bin Uehara (上原敏) as my newest muse. But it's also due in part to my reignited love for Yoshio Tabata (田端義夫) and a burgeoning interest in Katsuhiko Haida (灰田勝彦), both of whom have recently provided much-needed pick-me-ups as I figure out how to move on after graduating from university. And, of course, there are the covers by Hachiro Kasuga (春日八郎) and stuff I learned from the karaoke. My once tiny collection of ryukoka has expanded greatly and I picked up many more favourites along the way from a myriad of artists. So, I'd like to share some of them with you guys in this instalment of "Favourite" Author's Picks.
Looking through my past Author's Picks writings, I realised that I had done a post on my favourite songs from the 1930s and 1940s in 2017 (geez, I actually forgot). Looking at my own selection, some of those picks actually withstood the test of time and I still love them to this day. Some of those artists will also reappear here, albeit with different titles to their names. Care to take a gander at who they may be? :) This entry is sort of a successor to my previous one and the rule of one song per singer for fairness' sake will be kept. The lyrics most resonant with me will also be noted.
Just a couple of disclaimers before we begin:
1. There are some songs that were originally duets where I only listed one singer. I did this because I prefer listening to their solo versions.
2. I tried putting in some translations for my favourite lyrics. Take them with a pinch of salt - my Japanese skills are (still) paltry.
Mamori toshite kita ore da (I’ve been protecting you with all my life)
Hatoba katagi wo shiranai ka (Don't you know that's the spirit of the wharf?)
Now, we can't have a prewar song list without Husbando 3, right? For some reason, I became enamoured by the clear and gentle vocals of this star from the 1930s who (low-key) looked like a studious accountant, getting hooked on his many samurai/ronin and sailor-themed discography. I've come to like a good number of those songs and it was hard to pick justthe one. But, I think that accolade should go to "Hatoba Katagi" (波止場気質), my introductory song to all things Bin-san which I first heard as a cover by Hachi (well, well). I always found myself going back to this ditty about a sailor having to send off his beloved at the docks, loving both the jaunty melody and Bin-san's tender and forlorn vocals.
Guchi janakeredo yo ga yo de areba (Not to complain, but it is what it is)
Tono no maneki no tsukimi zake (Having drinks admiring moon at a lord's invite)
Otoko Hirate to motehayasarete (Praised as the man, Hirate)
Ima ja ima ja ukiyo no sandogasa(But now, now he's just a wanderer in the floating world)
If you guessed Tabata as one who'd reappear, you're absolutely right. Batayan's been a constant favourite for as long as I can remember, his cool dude energy being a such joy to watch and hearing the brassy twang of his trusty guitar gives me goosebumps. He was also pretty cute. But, for personal reasons, he never really got past my top 5 and into Husbando territory. (Noelle from 18/4/23: Yeah, that statement didn't age well.)
Last time, I picked "Genkai Blues" (玄海ブルース), but I am fairly certain that it was a toss-up between that and "Otone Tsukiyo" (大利根月夜). The same thing happened this time, but the latter came out on top instead. "Otone Tsukiyo" was my introduction to the exuberant singer and one of the first of many ronin-themed tunes I would come to like. Its grand sound really gives the disgraced samurai figure of Miki Hirate such a heroic edge, and I can't get enough of those amazing guitar solos - twice in just this one! Speaking of Batayan and his guitar, he seemed to have been so particular about it that he would insist on having its amplifier be placed where he could "see its sound or it won't do." Batayan, you're literally the "I can hear colours" meme, and that's why I love you.
Kage e no shibai ka gameran mo tanoshiya (A shadow puppet show? The gamelan's great too!)
Aa Jawa no mango uri (Ah, the Java mango seller)
Among the veterans on this list, Haida was the one I least expected to show up here. And yet, here he is with his ukulele and flower lei thanks to "Jawa no Mango Uri" (ジャワのマンゴ売り). Perhaps it's because of the exotic and sultry sound. Perhaps I just like it when Haida sings "gamelan" and "mango" in that strange yet silky crooning of his, but I ended up taking to "Jawa no Mango Uri" way more than I had expected. How has he already propelled up to Batayan's level from absolutely nowhere in my books??
Charumera mo kiete yuku (The charamela has disappeared)
Tooi akai hi aoi hi mo (So have the faraway red and blue lights)
Kuniang no maegami no(The young lady's bangs)
Yarusenakunaku yo wa fukeru(The night deepens without any sorrows)
From the island of Java, we go north to China. I never knew how much I liked China-themed songs until the Asakusa Bois came along. It's kind of kitschy, but also somewhat familiar. "China Tango", originally by Nakano, is one of them with its snappy tango melody and romantically sweet lyrics that paint a dreamy image of a Chinese port town at nightfall. Be it Kotaro or Nakano, the way they belt out the chorus never fails to impress me. Needless to say, this is one of the songs I look forward to the most when I watch the Takashima Brothers and gang. It doesn't appear on their setlists often, but I've been lucky to catch it in the times I've seen them in person and it never fails to brighten my day.
Haruo Oka -- Shanghai no Hanauri Musume (1938)
Hoshi mo kokyu mo kohaku no sake mo (The stars, the kokyu, and the amber sake)
Yume no Shanghai hanauri musume (The flower-selling girl of the dreamy Shanghai)
Speaking of China-themed tunes and song introductions via the Takashima Brothers, we head to metropolitan Shanghai with "Shanghai no Hanauri Musume"(上海の花売娘). Like Batayan, Okapparu makes his appearance here as well, this time with an entry from his well-regarded "Hanauri Musume series" (Flower selling girl series), the very first one, in fact. A bright and joyful number, Okapparu relates the scene of a flower seller at the docks of Shanghai in his clear and chirpy style.
Dick Mine -- Nagasaki Elegy (1947)
Kino futta wa konuka ame (Yesterday's rain was a light drizzle)
Kyo wa namida no ame ga furu(Today's rain is my tears)
Yume no Nagasaki ai yoru tama wo (In the dreamy Nagasaki, our spirits as one)
Musube yogiri no abe Maria (Wrapped in the night fog, Ave Maria)
Welcome back to Japan, specifically to Nagasaki, with yet another recurring artist. I'd say Mine's"Nagasaki Elegy" (長崎エレジー) is a strong contender for my favourite Nagasaki-themed song, and I think my recent trip to the prefecture only amplified that. The swelling strings, upbeat tempo, and earnest vocals of whoever takes it on give "Nagasaki Elegy" this mix of sadness and hopefulness that I can't get enough of. Mine's rendition is great, but I do love Hachi's and Batayan's versions as well.
Akiko Kikuchi -- Hoshi no Nagare ni (1947)
Uete imagoro imouto wa doko ni (I wonder where my starving sister is now)
Hito me aitai okaasan (Just once, I want to see my mother again)
This one brings back so many bittersweet memories of my first year at university - what a ride it was. Kikuchi's jazzy tune is so visceral in its depiction of anguish, reaching its tipping point at each chorus. An apt representation of the immediate postwar period, but emotions do transcend time. While my troubles are nowhere near as harsh as what "Hoshi no Nagare ni" (星の流れに) implies, just the feelings conveyed through Kikuchi's sorrowful delivery with an element of resignation really hit hard at times. But it's exactly that which brings me back to it. Plus, I do love a good jazz-inspired song.
Minoru Obata -- Onna Keizu no Uta (Yushima no Shiraume) (1942)
Shiruya shiraume tamagaki ni (Don't you know, white plum blossoms, on the shrine fences)
Nokoru futari no kageboshi (Remains their silhouette)
If I were to use a single word to describe "Yushima no Shiraume" (湯島の白梅), I'd say "beautiful". The elegant and dramatic strings and horns, Obata's genteel and deliberate crooning, and the image of blooming plum blossoms in early spring. Yet, it's the stage for a romantic tragedy between the geisha Otsuta and her lover Chikara from the book-turned-film, "Onna Keizu" (婦系図). Still, there's no better time to listen to this than now as the plum blossoms bloom.
Shigeo Kusunoki -- Onna no Kaikyu(1935)
Kokoro kudakedo mamanaranu (A broken heart is beyond my control)
Tsurai ukiyo no sayoarashi (The painful floating world's night gale)
I feel like "Onna no Kaikyu" (女の階級) is one of those songs that is simultaneously popular and unknown. It doesn't make much sense, but that's my impression based on my contradicting experience with it. Veteran Kusunoki was the original artist, but I see more covers of this track by enka singers through the ages than his original on YouTube. Yet, when I'm at the karaoke, the oldies aren't too familiar with it. Nevertheless, I somehow got hooked on this spunky Koga Melody. It's likely because the orchestra goes on full blast at a frenetic speed in the original, and simply because I like hearing the likes of Hachi doing incredible vocal gymnastics to pull it off in the covers.
And that, folks, has been an updated take on some of my favourite songs from the immediate pre and postwar eras. As I previously mentioned ages ago, somehow, these songs have incredible staying power in my head. But, I suppose that's why they're still being enjoyed more than seven decades later.
Man, 2017 Noelle wouldn't have believed this list if I showed it to her. I can imagine: "Batayan, yeah, but who's... Bin? And the baseball guy? rEalLy??"
I ended off my previous list with madorosu Batayan, so I shall do the same here.
As if anyone needed reminding, it is indeed October 1st, 2022. Time for fall leaves, harvesting and good food such as matsutake mushrooms and grilled sanma in Japan. Turkey and pumpkin pie would be the delicacies here in Canada and the United States, but I digress.
Last Saturday, I began a series known as "Go-Touchi Songs", those tunes that reflect a certain region or prefecture or city in Japan. They are held near and dear by many people in the country and last weekend, I started with Hokkaido and the Tohoku region which tends towards the northern part of the main island of Honshu. But as promised, I am now going into the area where I spent almost two decades of my life: the Kanto region which includes Tochigi, Ibaraki, Saitama, Gunma, Chiba and Kanagawa Prefectures along with Metropolitan Tokyo. As was displayed in last week's list, the songs aren't all about enka and Mood Kayo. Also to reiterate, this is a very tiny list merely to provide a small taste of these geographically based songs (especially where Tokyo and Yokohama are concerned); you can take a look at the far more extensive list at J-Wiki. Plus, I'll be covering the Chubu region next week.
1. Yukio Hashi -- Itakogasa (潮来笠) for Itako City in Ibaraki (1960)
2. Duke Aces -- Ii Yu da na （いい湯だな）for Gunma (1966)
7. Ayumi Ishida -- Blue Light Yokohama（ブルーライト・ヨコハマ）for Yokohama, Kanagawa (1968)
As was the case with Hokkaido and the Tohoku last week, I'd like to finish with a couple of delicacies from the Kanto: yaki manju（焼き饅頭）in Gunma and monjayaki（もんじゃ焼き）in Tokyo respectively.
Over the past few days, I've been hearing that the Kanto region including Tokyo was going to get walloped by the white stuff, but it looks like the megalopolis may have avoided a huge snowy bullet according to NHK's report today. I've been informed that Tokyo used to get snow more frequently in decades past, but during my time there, wintry precipitation was quite rare, and in amounts far smaller than what I'm accustomed to here in my native Toronto, even a couple of centimetres of snow would be enough to have Japan Railways go to Red Alert.
As such, I'd been thinking about putting up a meteorologically appropriate song on KKP tonight but I realized that I'd already put up Cheuni's（チェウニ）"Tokyo ni Yuki ga Furu"（Tokyoに雪が降る）a few years ago, and then when I settled for anything on Tokyo, I also found out that I'd also already posted "Tokyo"（東京）by the folk trio My Pace（マイ・ペース）back in 2018.
Well, then I decided to punch into the Yahoo.jp search engine anything to do with Tokyo-based kayo. I did receive a number of results, one of which was Haruo Oka's（岡晴夫）"Tokyo Chanson". Good choice there, too, since Oka has provided some songs regarding my old stomping grounds such as "Tokyo no Hanauri Musume"（東京の花売娘）and "Tokyo no Sora, Aoi Sora"（東京の空青い空）.
Not sure whether I would place "Tokyo Chanson", which was an October 1947 single by Oka, as an actual chanson, although admittedly my knowledge on the melodic style of the French musical genre is extremely limited. It is a gently upbeat kayo though as Oka sings about seeing the girl of his dreams at some stage play for the first time. I'm wondering whether he was watching a Takarazuka Revue performance since I believe the nationally famous all-women troupe has come up with musicals set in France, and the title is, after all, "Tokyo Chanson". Anyways, Shizuo Yoshikawa（吉川静夫）and Gento Uehara（上原げんと）were responsible for words and music respectively. Additionally, I also hope that Kanto residents are doing their best with the storm; as someone who has also gone through one of the Top 10 most powerful snowstorms in Toronto's history almost a month ago, I do feel their pain.
Another source of watching the old kayo on NHK along with "Uta Kon"（うたコン）has been "Songs of Japanese Spirit". Unfortunately, I forget what the original Japanese title is of this program on the World Premium service but the English title has always been listed as so. Before TV Japan's programming schedule got turned upside-down because of COVID-19, this particular show was usually featured on Saturdays in the mid-afternoon, and it is even grander than "Uta Kon". It's twice as long as the average "Uta Kon" episode and the stress is on showing the kayo singers performing the old hits instead of the mix of kayo and J-Pop on the other show. And often, the last third of the show is devoted to some sort of stage play being acted out by the performers on the episode with, of course, songs being thrown in, or a segment focusing on the hits surrounding two of the singers.
With "Uta Kon" greatly changed due to the pandemic restrictions, I was happy to find out that "Songs of Japanese Spirit" did pop up at least once since the changes. Obviously, it was a rerun of an episode from 2019 but just to see all those singers appear together onstage to sing their kayo was very reassuring.
There were a few songs that had caught my ear for that episode that I PVR'ed. One was Hamako Watanabe's（渡辺はま子）"Ame no Oranda-zaka"(Rainy Hollander Slope). For some background, Oranda-zaka, which has been called the Dutch Slope or the Hollander Slope, is a scenic sloping street in Nagasaki that was given its name due to the large number of Dutch merchants that had lived in the area in the latter half of the 19th century. During my one time in the city, I only got to see Chinatown and the bay area, so unfortunately I've never had the opportunity to walk on Oranda-zaka.
I have forgotten who performed "Ame no Oranda-zaka" on "Songs of Japanese Spirit", but the original version from January 1947 had been first recorded by Watanabe, a singer who was especially popular from the late 1930s to well into the 1950s. With "Ame no Oranda-zaka", which was written by Kazuo Kikuta（菊田一夫）and composed by Yuuji Koseki（古関裕而）, she related the tale of heartbreak and sorrow of a romance coming to an end on the wet pavement of the titular slope in Nagasaki.
"Ame no Oranda-zaka" was a hit for Watanabe, who would get married and open up a flower shop in her native Yokohama in the same year of 1947 while restarting her career according to her Wikipedia file. This all happened after she had been repatriated back to Japan following detention in a POW camp in China for over a year once the Japanese surrendered.
In the 1950s, Watanabe made a string of appearances in the early years of the Kohaku Utagassen, including the inaugural edition on NHK Radio in 1951. She would make a total of 9 appearances on the special with her final appearance being in 1973. None of those appearances had her performing "Ame no Oranda-zaka".
Besides the usual YouTube, another way I make musical discoveries in the enka-yo department is through natsumelo karaokes. Lately I'd found another kayo haunt in the sleepy town (except when politicians go around blasting their promises) of Kasumigaseki, Saitama, which I now reside in, and on my first couple of visits, I had the pleasure of meeting this fellow, let's call him Uncle S. His singing and guitar skills are the best I've heard thus far from my karaoke romps. However, what threw me for a loop was not only is he a huge fan of Hachiro Kasuga, but, what are the odds, his favourite Kasuga-bushi is the same as mine (currently), "Ore wa Nora Inu" (俺は野良犬)! He seemed more floored than I was, though.
Well, but anyway, eventually finding out I'm a fan of matatabi enka, Uncle S was game to do a proper duet (up to that point we'd just been alternating stanzas for regular tunes from time to time), and he chose "Oshima Sentaro Tabiuta" simply after I said I knew the ryukoka singer Hisao Ito and somewhat recognized the characters' names of Oshima and Sentaro (admittedly, I had thought it was just one name). But, you see, I had no idea of the existance of such a song, and it had some strange transitions a typical enka song wouldn't have, so I wasn't able to wing it. 'Twas from then on when I decided learn it for a second shot at it. Unfortunately, I haven't seen Uncle S since, but I'm ready to redeem myself when he does reappear. Man, this is like the redux of Grandma K (whom I had finally met up with a couple of weeks ago in Sugamo).
Coming to the "Oshima Sentaro Tabiuta" itself, what I had initially thought was a song simply about the trials a roving actor and his wife face on the road turned out to be something quite a lot darker and more dramatic. This song (circa 1947) gets its plot from a popular novel "Jahime-sama" (蛇姫様) and is but one of its many adaptations (music and film-wise). The great Yaso Saijo (西條八十) lyric-fies the story of our hero Sentaro, who, after tragically having his sister and father murdered, goes into hiding by joining a roving theater troupe. Life's tough for Sentaro, and you can hear it in Teikichi Okuyama's (奥山貞吉) forlorn score, but his silver lining comes in the form of Oshima, one of the troupe's members. I don't really know much other details besides that, but long story short, they fall in love and live happily ever after and continuing this more or less ronin-style of life. Playing the role of Sentaro in "Oshima Sentaro Tabiuta" is the aforementioned Ito, and Akiko Futaba (二葉あき子) plays Oshima.
In the way of popularity, "Oshima Sentaro Tabiuta" definitely isn't one of either singers' renowned hits, and, for that matter, it's not even a well-known adaptation of the novel in spite of it being the theme song to the "Jahime-sama" film in 1947. It seems like Hibari Misora's (美空ひばり) own "Oshima Sentaro" that was tagged to the "Shin Jahime-sama" (新 蛇姫様) movie she starred in from 1965 was a lot more well-received (understandably so). Anyways, the second video here is a shorter rendition of "Oshima Sentaro Tabiuta", and it was sung by an under-the-radar enka singer called Sumiko Matsumoto(松本寿満子). I don't know who the male singer is, but I actually like this rendition more because of its slower tempo. I find that it sheds more light into Sentaro's struggle. Also, the snippets of movie with the song are from the aforementioned '47 movie.
P.S. The other folks at the Kasumigaseki joint didn't really know it either. Just last week, I had intended to sing it on my own, but the mama-san insisted that I partner-up simply because "Oshima Sentaro Tabiuta" is a duet. Grandpa 1, who was keen on doing a duet with me waved the white flag for he had no knowledge of this at all, and the key was too low for him. As a result, the mic was dropped on Grandpa 2. He was a good sport, in spite of not knowing the song completely. Ah, well, until Uncle S shows up again.
A couple of days ago, I wrote about Candies'（キャンディーズ） "Ginga Kuko"（銀河空港）which related the end of a relationship via an airport. Of course, airports have been the setting for many a kayo about the sweet (or not) sorrowful breakup.
But perhaps even earlier and still now, the train platform can be that other transportation hub of sadness. One example of such a kayo is "Yoru no Platform" (Night Platform) as sung by Akiko Futaba（二葉あき子）. I wrote about her late last year in her first article "Niizuma Kagami"（新妻鏡）.
Although that musical tribute to the industrious train horn is never too far away, Futaba gives that mournful performance of love lost (with perhaps a little hope that her beloved may return), and the arrangement of strings behind her reminded me of a lot of songs that I used to hear in movies that I've seen on Turner Movie Classics. The ballad with that soupcon of Latin was a huge hit for Futaba when it was released in 1947 and is seen as one of her trademark songs.
Reading the article for the actual song on J-Wiki, "Yoru no Platform" had actually been recorded originally in 1939 by singer Noriko Awaya（淡谷のり子）as a song for the movie "Tokyo no Josei"（東京の女性...Woman of Tokyo） starring Setsuko Hara（原節子）. However the sad lyrics of departure were seen as too disruptive during a time when young men were being sent off to war, and Awaya's version was quietly shelved although she recorded and performed the song years later.
Ryoichi Hattori（服部良一）was behind the melody while Yashio Okuno（奥野椰子夫）wrote the lyrics. In 1941, an English version, under the title of "I Will Be Waiting", was recorded with Hattori's name changed to R. Hatter while a fellow named Vic Maxwell provided the English words and even sang the song.
Although I'm a fan of Yoshio Tabata (田端義夫), it took me quite a while to get myself one of his albums. I had meant to get it a couple of years ago but only got it a couple of months ago, since most of his songs are readily available online and, as a result, other albums/singles by other singers are prioritized over his during my CD hauls. Only after tuning in to a video playing his BEST album from 1965 was I reminded to get something of that sort. And so I got his 68th anniversary album,"Osu! Tabata Yoshio Meikyoku Shu" (オース！田端義夫名曲集), that's even got a recorded message of the still spunky (at that time) 88 year-old ryukoka singer mentioning how far he's come in the entertainment world - feels special to be listening to what he had to say.
Moving on, out of the all the tracks I was formerly unacquainted with, "Chonmage Mambo" (ちょんまげマンボ) and "Zundoko Bushi (Machi no Date Otoko)" were the two I enjoyed the most. The former is absolutely boisterous and the way a young Batayan goes "OSU!!" in every stanza is cute, but I've yet to fully make out what on earth is going on there so I've decided to write about the latter, which is something I'm more familiar with.
(Sorry but the video has been taken down.)
A comparison of the "Zundoko Bushi" versions (Hikawa's, Kobayashi's, and Tabata's).
As I had first learnt upon being acquainted with enka, there have been many variations of the "Zundoko Bushi" over the decades, the most popular of which are those by action star Akira Kobayashi (小林旭), enka prince Kiyoshi Hikawa (氷川きよし), and comedy group The Drifters. All have a Latin flavour and the rhythmic "Zun, zun, zundoko" to kick things off, with only the number of "Zun-s" and lyrics varying in each version. On the other hand, Batayan's rendition differed quite a bit from what I had just described. For one, it follows the original war song in the sense that he goes "Toko, zundoko, zundoko" instead. Then there's the just as catchy, happy-go-lucky arrangement fronted by the low twang of Tabata's famous electric guitar that's much more 40's/50's rock'n'roll than it is Latin. I found myself liking this arrangement very much and I tend to listen to it when weary as it never fails to lift my mood. Perhaps it was meant to do just that, considering it was released not long after WWII in 1947.
This "Zundoko Bushi", also called "Machi no Date Otoko" as its lyrics were about a Date Otoko's (dandy guy) love story, was the first pop music take on the naval ditty. According to the J-Wiki, it was a hit back in the day. Sadly though, it doesn't seem to be featured on kayo shows often (if at all) in this day and age. Penning the lyrics to "Zundoko Bushi" was Einosuke/Hanosuke (?) Sasaki (佐々木英之助), and composing it was Hachiro Noshiro (能代八郎).
Last week's "Uta Con"（うたコン）had its tribute to the wonderful city of Yokohama and during its 45 minutes which I enjoyed thoroughly, there was also another song that I was happy to discover.
"Minato ga Mieru Oka" (The Hill Overlooking The Harbour) was sung that night by enka chanteuse Yukino Ichikawa（市川由紀乃）in this quiet nighttime jazzy tone which always has had a soft spot in my heart. So I was quite enchanted. And happily enough, in looking up this song online, I found out that there was an interesting story behind it.
The song was originally released in April 1947 as one of the early postwar ryukoka（流行歌...literally, popular song）by Victor. Sung by then-newbie Aiko Hirano（平野愛子）and created by Showa Era composer and lyricist Tatsuzo Azuma（東辰三）, the original version had that sweet music orchestra sound surrounding the lyrics regarding a young couple in love admiring the view of a harbour from the top of that hill. It became that huge hit for Hirano who followed up with a number of other hits and soon earned the title of "The Young Blues Queen".
However, after the sudden passing of her mentor, Azuma, in 1950, Hirano didn't enjoy another major hit and would change recording companies a couple of times. In her later years, she started a music school in her home before she passed away in 1981. She did appear in the 2nd and 3rd Kohaku Utagassen in 1952 and 1953 but not for the song of this article.
As was illustrated during the Yokohama tribute on "Uta Kon" last week, "Minato ga Mieru Oka" has been seen as one of those old songs celebrating the city of Minato Mirai 21, Yokohama Bay and Chinatown. Plus in 1962, the Minato-ga-Mieru-Oka Park was even opened with a stone memorial inside pointing out its musical lineage. However, there has been a tiny controversy over whether that was actually true. Apparently, Azuma may have created the song in tribute to his hometown of Kobe which also has that wonderful view of the port from up above. But his son, famed lyricist Michio Yamagami（山上路夫）, calmed the few ripples that may have resulted and wondered aloud whether the song had been created in tribute to both cities, and for that matter, any of the port cities in Japan.
Nonetheless, it's a lovely song, and considering the melody, I believe it could have one of the great proto-Mood Kayo tunes. To cement its classic standard status, it's been covered by a whole range of singers/musicians (including City Pop maestro Toshiki Kadomatsu/角松敏生...too bad, his version isn't online). Naomi Chiaki（ちあきなおみ）is one of those artists and she gives a slower and slightly smokier jazz cover here.
Masako Mori（森昌子）provided her own mellow Big Band cover, and although the video footage looks a few decades old, her version is on a 2007 album titled "Ano Koro"（あのころ...The Old Days）.
And then there is Rumiko Koyanagi（小柳ルミ子）with a sunny and relaxed version that could have had her performing it from a chaise lounge on Long Island. Her take on "Minato ga Mieru Oka" is on her massive 2002 6-disc collection titled "Rumiko Koyanagi CD-BOX"....on CD 4, if you were wondering.
The one last piece of trivia that I found on the article for the song, though, is that "Minato ga Mieru Oka" had also been the inspiration for Hiroshi Miyagawa（宮川泰）to create The Peanuts'"Teami no Kutsushita"（手編みの靴下）which later became Mari Sono's（園まり）hit "Aitakute, Aitakute"（逢いたくて逢いたくて）in the 1960s. That would explain the Follow-Up tag in the Labels.
Ah, I love it when I'm able to see scenes that remind me of certain songs. That photo up there with its atmospheric lighting had me thinking of "Yogiri yo Konya mo Arigatou" (夜霧よ今夜も有難う). But what you see in the picture isn't light from the street lamps filtering through night fog, it's actually the haze from three nights ago when it was at its worst, and I wasn't particularly thankful for it. Nevertheless, the night scene it created was quite pretty despite being quite detrimental to one's health. The Pollutant Standard Index (PSI) close to or around 300 at that time, which caused quite a stir amongst the locals in Singapore since it usually doesn't get that bad. As for myself, I was just happy that my nose did not have any violent reactions to the air. Thankfully, it has gotten a lot clearer again in past couple of days, but I can't help but pity the folks in Indonesia, where the annual haze has been coming from, who have it a lot worse.
But anyway, since we're sort of on the topic of night fog, I'd like to write about another tune that concerns this natural phenomenon, "Yogiri no Blues". While more severe than "Yogiri yo Konya mo Arigatou" in terms of both its jazzy musical arrangement, with "Yogiri no Blues" having a more haunting sound brought to you by Tokujiro Okubo (大久保徳二郎), and the vocals of the singers - Yujiro's voice was lighter and laid back, Dick Mine's(ディク・ミネ) had more of a deep, guttural growl that sent shivers down my spine - it fits the bar scene very well. I can just imagine "Yogiri no Blues" being played in a quiet drinking establishment late at night, and listening to it is a work-worn salary man at the counter with a smoking cigarette in one hand and a glass of brandy in the other.
"Yogiri no Blues", released in 1947, was one of Mine's biggest hits and it allowed the jazz singer to regain his popularity after World War II, but surprisingly, Mine did not sing it during any of his 6 appearances on the Kohaku. Many covers of this song had been done by other singers as well, like Yujiro Ishihara (石原裕次郎), Frank Nagai (フランク永井), and Naomi Chiaki (ちあきなおみ). "Yogiri no Blues" was used in two movies; the first being "Jigoku no Kao" (地獄の顔) in 1947, which was set in Shanghai hence there are references to some spots from that city in Kinya Shimada's (島田磬也) lyrics. The second movie that used "Yogiri no Blues" as its theme song was also named "Yogiri no Blues", aired in 1963, and it starred Tough Guy - I think they used his rendition rather than the original though.
The video above has Yujiro's cover of "Yogiri no Blues". Yup, his delivery of this song is definitely a lot smoother and softer than Mine's. I don't have a favourite version as both are good in their own way.
Tonight on NHK's"Kayo Concert"（歌謡コンサート）, singer Rimi Natsukawa （夏川 りみ）performed a wonderful jazzy rendition of an old kayo standard from decades back titled "Mune no Furiko"(Pendulum of My Heart). I liked the song so much that I decided to take a look for it on YouTube and found out that, true to its nature as a standard, it's been covered by a number of singers over the ages.
It was written by Hachiro Sato（サトウハチロー）and composed by Ryoichi Hattori （服部良一）in 1947 (Hattori would also create another fine kayo standard,"Tokyo Boogie-Woogie"), and it was first sung by popular singer Noboru Kirishima （霧島昇）who started his career in the 1930s. The lyrics and the music as it was sung back then by Kirishima reminded me of some of the love songs that the big bands played back in America. It was probably a fine song to listen to under the stars before bedtime.
The freeze image for the above video was one that I have seen leafing through the pages of "Japanese City Pop", since it was the cover for Izumi Yukimura's （雪村いづみ）album "Super Generation" from 1974. Now, I've seen Ms. Yukimura a number of times on TV programs such as "Kayo Concert" and had never thought that she would end up in this book. But apparently, singer-actress Yukimura, who had debuted in 1953 when she was around 16 and became one of Japan's big 3 female singers alongside Chiemi Eri （江利 チエミ）and Hibari Misora （美空ひばり）, collaborated with the hot New Musicians of the 1970s such as Masataka Matsutoya （松任谷正隆）and Haruomi Hosono （細野晴臣）to give an updated spin to the music of Ryoichi Hattori with the help of his son, composer Katsuhisa Hattori（服部克久）.
I was glad that I could finally get an "in" to "Super Generation". Yukimura's version of "Mune no Furiko" doesn't really strike me as being City Pop but more of a New Music take. In a way, there's something pretty Akiko Yano-ish about it. The album also includes the aforementioned "Tokyo Boogie-Woogie", so I'd like to hear that as well.
Of course, when I found the video of The Big Man himself, Yujiro Ishihara（石原裕次郎）, performing "Mune no Furiko", I also had to include this one although I'm not sure whether this was an official entry in his discography. However, his version is the closest to the one I heard by Natsukawa earlier tonight since it has that late-night bluesy jazz sound to it. And what better way to finish an evening than with some great mind-blowing sax?
