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.
Yes, I can understand their confusion. The legendary Swiss marksman William Tell and the legendary Lone Ranger John Reid are probably wondering what the deal is regarding their joint iconic theme song.
But let's provide some of that Reminiscings of Youth context first. I remember this one song popping up in a number of Warner Bros. cartoons, especially when there is a chase scene involving horses and Westerns. It grew on me very quickly because I thought it was of those rousing songs that fairly screamed "Time to save the day!". Just wanted to jump onto that steed right then and there.
(1:33:37)
And then, I found out that it had made its leap to the live-action screen via Bob Hope's "Call Me Bwana" from 1963. I remember having a good belly laugh when the rocket launched.
Not long afterwards, I realized that this was the theme song for "The Lone Ranger" that had its run on ABC TV from 1949 to 1957 but also previously on radio. So, it wasn't only "Time to save the day!", but "Hi Ho, Silver!".
However, I also got confused because I would eventually discover that the famous song wasn't called "The Lone Ranger Theme" but the "William Tell Overture". Wait! Wasn't William Tell the archer who shot the apple off of his son's head? Well, why would a cool cowboy hero theme be named after a bowman from centuries previously?
As it turns out, the reason is that the "William Tell Overture" actually made its presence known all the way back in 1829 when its composer, Gioachino Rossini, had created it for his opera "William Tell" based on the William Schiller play "William Tell" from 1804 based on the exploits of the famed archer. The overture was divided into four parts of which the finale "March of the Swiss Soldiers" makes up the famous theme for the Lone Ranger. The more you know, huh?
I have to admit that Hans Zimmer added some kickass booster engines to his take on the theme as part of the soundtrack for Gore Verbinski's 2013 motion picture take on The Lone Ranger. That scene with the train when the theme kicked in was probably what almost saved the picture.
Now, the Japanese pop culture angle on this is that I also remember the "William Tell Overture" being used for the 1981 Fuji-TV comedy-variety show "Oretachi Hyokinzoku" (オレたちひょうきん族....We Are The Wild and Crazy Guys) that loved to break all the rules. The show had its City Pop ending themes by EPO, her version of "Downtown" and then "Doyou no Yoru wa Paradise" (土曜の夜はパラダイス）. However, for the opening theme, it was the overture to prepare all viewers for one heck of a comedy trip.
I wonder how Rossini might be feeling from elsewhere looking down on how adaptable his composition has become in the centuries since.
Well, then, "Oretachi Hyokinzoku" premiered on May 16th 1981. So, what was on top of the charts on May 18th that year? I'll give you Nos. 1, 2 and 5.
I failed to mention this yesterday but April 29th is part of the Golden Week holiday season in Japan and it's currently known as Showa Day. It had been celebrated as Emperor Hirohito's(the Showa era emperor) birthday until his death in early 1989 and then it was known as Greenery Day until 2007, when it was given its current name (Greenery Day is now May 4th).
Since there has been some nostalgic attraction for the culture of the Showa era (1926-1989), that's how I've usually seen Showa Day...not so much for the veneration of the late emperor but for what the times and trappings were like for ordinary people in Japan. Apparently, there is a Showa era museum in Aichi Prefecture as you can see above via MEGULOG's video. My particular examples of Showa era culture that regularly pop up in my memories are the old public phones of different sizes and colours, and the old-style kissaten as you can view in Mikki Café & Life below. Personally, my Showa era café will always be Café Renoir, the long-running franchise.
But of course, this being a kayo kyoku blog, I wanted to give my own contribution to Showa Day in terms of culture by providing some of the old songs. I'd wondered if I could find some sort of Top 5 list regarding memorable kayo kyoku but really couldn't find anything, so I've decided to come up with my own list of six songs representing each decade from the 1930s to the 1980s (sorry, couldn't remember anything from the 1920s). There wasn't any great research or all-night brain wracking for these songs...they just popped into my head and together they can perhaps show how music changed during the Showa era. So, without further ado...
Lately, I've developed a greater appreciation for female singers from the early Showa era, which is quite something considering I quite exclusively only listened to male singers for the past... more than 20 years of my life. To give credit to where it's due, I wouldn't have done so without the help of prof. Yoshinori Osakabe (刑部芳則) and rakugo artist Takehei Hayashiya (林家たけ平) and their Showa-shoki no kayo maniac program, "Osakabe-Takehei Showa no Utagoe" (部たけ平昭和の歌声). Now if I were to watch natsumelo programs, I'd be just as happy to see Ohama-san(Hamako Watanabe... 渡辺はま子) or Shizuko-san(Shizuko Kasagi... 笠置シヅ子) as I'd be to see Mr. Fujiyama (Ichiro Fujiyama... 藤山一郎) or Minoru Obata (小畑実). It makes for a much more exciting viewing and listening experience since I can now look forward to many more artists. But we can consider Ohama-san and Shizuko-san towards the Western side of ryukoka, especially the latter with her jazz bops and groovy boogie-woogies. What about the Japanese side? That's where geisha singers, or uguisu geishacome in.
So, what is an uguisu geisha? They were originally geisha but moved to the record industry as popular singers. According to prof. Osakabe in the first video, this became a thing around the late 1920s and early 1930s when music producers, on jaunts to the geisha quarters, felt that the geishas' training in hogaku (traditional Japanese music) like kiyomoto, kouta and nagauta would make them perfect for hogaku-inspired record songs, like shin-minyo (new minyo/folk songs). They were recognised for their fine, silk-like voice, which combined with their overall high-tone, made them sound like the uguisu (Japanese bush warbler), especially when they go, "Ha-----" in some of their signature tunes, aptly referred to as "Ha-Kouta" (Ha Songs). Yusuke Wajima (輪島裕介) in "Tsukurareta Nihon no Kokoro Shinwa" (2010) added that they keep their mouths open as little as possible so as to not show their teeth, harkening back to their former profession's demand for feminine refinement (as defined at the time). This combination apparently made them particularly attractive and even erotic to the audience. My impression of geisha singers more or less fell on these lines, but it was far from my taste - *ahemmysixfellas*. However, because of their prominence in enka-kayo history, I naturally became more curious about them. "Showa no Utagoe" with their selection gave me the opportunity to really listen to what these demure performers had to offer, something I was more reluctant to do when just reading about them in books.
From my understanding of "Showa no Utagoe" and the other books I've read, the uguisu geisha singer boom came with the appearance Katsutaro Kouta (小唄勝太郎) and Ichimaru (市丸). Together, they dominated the early 30s ryukoka scene with their "Ha-Kouta" and this period was even known as the "Katsu-Ichi Jidai" or "Ichi-Katsu Jidai" (Katsu-Ichi/Ichi-Katsu Era) depending on the situation. They were huge rivals and were particular over semantics like that on programs they were on. Today, I shall put the spotlight on the younger of the two, Ichimaru nee-san (姐さん) - apparently, nee-san is how one can address a geisha.
Yup, I can certainly see why she's kirei kei.
Ichimaru, hailing from Nagano prefecture was a geisha in Asakusa, and so she used to be called Asakusa Ichimaru. When she signed on to Victor Records in 1931, she simply went by Ichimaru. She had multiple hits under her obi like "Chakkiri Bushi" (ちゃっきり節) and "Tenryu Kudareba" (天龍下れば) during the prewar period, but what about after the war? Many prewar singers did face much uncertainties in such an unstable time. Well, that's where Ryoichi Hattori (服部良一), the man known for Japanese jazz and blues, came in. With jazz and Western music becoming allowed again under the Allied Occupation, Hattori was free again to do what he did best. Together with Shizuko-san, Boogie-Woogie fever hit, what with "Tokyo Boogie-Woogie" and all. But the bombastic Shizuko-san had been known for jazz, so it was only natural for her to shine in her element. But what if Ichimaru nee-san did her own boogie-woogie? Hattori did combine rokyoku and Edo kappore with jazz via Mr. (Tadaharu) Nakano (中野忠晴) and his Rhythm Boys and Sisters, so making something for an uguisu geisha should be a walk in the park. And thus, "Shamisen Boogie-Woogie" was born.
Ain't no way she's in her 60s here.
As the kids nowadays would say, this song goes hard. Together with a fresh boogie-woogie rhythm, Hattori was sure to add in a healthy dose of rattling shamisen to keep with the title. Giving "Shamisen Boogie-Woogie" a slight Bon dance flair and an even more celebratory atmosphere was the addition of some raucous percussions. Hearing this, you can't tell if you stepped into a Bon odori circle or a jazz dance hall, but the vibe is so chaotically fun you wouldn't mind it either way. It's a song that makes one forget that it came out not long after the war in 1949 when the country was still trying to piece itself together. But it's a song like this that I'm sure made it easier for the many struggling to get by during that period.
Anyway, Ichimaru nee-san was known for her demure charm. While Katsutaro was known as the "cute one" (kawaii kei), Ichimaru was the "pretty one" (kirei kei) and she was said to have exuded an aura of refined elegance and intelligence. Despite the rowdy score, she maintained this cool, elegant charm through her delicate vocals as she always had while handling her hogaku-inspired hits. Certainly no Ichimaru fan at the time would have imagined this same voice going, "Hello, baby!" IN ENGLISH. It would've shocked the tabi off the most traditional Japanese listener, for sure! I would like to personally thank Takao Saeki (佐伯孝夫) sensei for putting that in the lyrics... Actually, for all we know it could've been Hattori's idea, considering the smiley composer's penchant for silly phrases in his songs. Man, this song is great. Her other fusion tunes, some by Hattori too, are just as fun to listen to, and it's made me warm up to Ichimaru nee-san considerably.
As you would've seen in the news, Japan hasn't had the best start to the year. The enka world has also experienced some great losses. In a time like this, sometimes it's good to have a cheerful song like "Shamisen Boogie-Woogie" to bring some colour back into life.
Odorya yokunaru masu masu yokunaru (It'll get better if you dance, way, way better)
Nasu mo kabocha mo keiki mo yokunaru (The eggplant, the pumpkin, even the atmosphere will get better)
P.S. One of the more amusing little articles I've read in old, digitalized entertainment magazines regarding Ichimaru nee-san was a piece by Katsuhiko Haida (灰田勝彦). There he talked about some of his good friends in show business and sports, one of them being Ichimaru. In his anecdote, he wrote that he once asked her out to watch a baseball game (of course) and she agreed despite having zero knowledge of the sport (I can probably guess why). This became apparent when she actually asked Hai-Katsu, "Are we supposed to clap now?" when a team scored. Oh, Ichimaru nee-san. Don't worry, I would've done the same thing.
I've wondered what one of the world's most expensive neighbourhoods, Ginza in Tokyo, must have been like in the immediate postwar period. Perhaps it hadn't been quite as rich, bright and neon-populated before Japan began its gradual economic rise from the ashes but maybe even back then, it was a bustling area.
Singer-songwriter Isao Hayashi（林伊佐緒）and singer Utako Matsushima（松島詩子）released a single in 1949 called "Ginza Yakyoku"(Ginza Nocturne) which turned out to be quite the happy trot of a kayo kyoku, so maybe it's safe to assume that things were doing all right on the street. Written by Ryo Yano（矢野亮）and composed by Hayashi himself, it's an upbeat tune which makes for a refreshing change since I've often thought of Ginza being melodically memorialized through the bluesier Mood Kayo.
This is Matsushima's first entry in "Kayo Kyoku Plus", so a little attempt at a biography will be given here. Born Shima Utsumi（内海シマ）in 1905, she hailed from Yamaguchi Prefecture and as a young woman in her twenties, she was teaching at elementary school and high school in her home province. However, in 1932, Utsumi was bitten by the singing bug and made her debut behind the mike. After a few name changes, she settled on Utako Matsushima in 1935 in which she earned her first hit, "Yuube Honoka ni"（夕べ仄かに...Last Night, Faintly）.
Methinks that the above isn't the version that was put out in 1950 with just Hayashi singing "Ginza Yakyoku" as a single. However, I do like this cover for its tropical lounge arrangement. I wonder if cocktail shakers were used as part of the percussion.
Now the reason that I chose this kayo is that "Ginza Yakyoku" as performed by Hayashi was one of the songs that got onto the very first Kohaku Utagassen（紅白歌合戦）on January 3rd 1951 via NHK Radio. Interestingly enough, Matsushima was also invited onto that 1st edition, but to perform her own contribution. Both singers became quick veterans on the annual special with Hayashi appearing 11 times while Matsushima performed 10 times. Matsushima would release singles well into the 1980s; she passed away in 1996 at the age of 91.
I think that a lot of us folks in our thirties and above will always remember weekends for ABC's "Wide World of Sports" with the late Jim McKay narrating the famous introduction including the legendary line "The thrill of victory ... and the agony of defeat". Of course, all that was accompanied by the dramatic fanfare by American composer Charles Fox who I was surprised to find out came up with some of the most famous TV themes in the United States such as for "Happy Days", "The Love Boat", and "Wonder Woman".
Japanese television, specifically NHK, also had its sports programming scored by a famous theme that is still used even today. In fact, I heard "Sports Show Koushinkyoku" (The Sports Show March) just earlier this afternoon when I was watching the rugby match between Waseda and Keio Universities. It may not be as dramatic as the "Wide World of Sports" theme, but it can sure rouse a crowd into a good sporting mood.
Created in 1949 by famed composer Yuuji Koseki（古関裕而）, who had also made another legendary sports-based tune several years before, I think that the brassy and jaunty "Sports Show Koushinkyoku" has probably been used for pretty much any type of sports event in Japan outside of the Olympics coverage and sumo. I've usually associated the theme with baseball, including the national high school championships.
Currently with the adapted biography of composer Yuuji Koseki（古関裕而）being televised as the NHK morning serial drama "Yell"（エール）, the network has also been providing 5-minute vignettes of some of Koseki's work. The themes for the Hanshin Tigers baseball team, "Rokko Oroshi"（六甲おろし）and everyone's favourite heroic moth, "Mothra", have already been given their due in the vignettes.
Another song that has been featured is the elegiac "Nagasaki no Kane", inspired by the January 1949Takashi Nagai（永井隆）book of the same name with the translation of "The Bells of Nagasaki", which referred to the bells of Urakami Cathedral in Nagasaki. The song itself was released as a single later in July with Koseki providing the melody while Hachiro Sato（サトウハチロー）was behind the lyrics.
Veteran kayo singer Ichiro Fujiyama（藤山一郎）was the first to record "Nagasaki no Kane", and in the vignette, singer and TV personality Akihiro Miwa（美輪明宏）noted that the song was perhaps one of the first kayo to feature a combination of major and minor chords to reflect both sorrow and hope with the additional help of a women's chorus. That was a pretty noteworthy point Miwa made since I've often heard Japanese pop songs from way back that had that similar pattern of sad-and-happy melodies.
According to the J-Wikiarticle on the song, "Nagasaki no Kane" never made any direct reference to the atomic bombing of Nagasaki itself but referred to all those who suffered because of the war. Lyricist Sato himself had lost a brother in the Hiroshima bombing.
It would be years before I realized how much of an association Fujiyama had with NHK's Kohaku Utagassen because of his traditional role as the orchestra conductor when it was time to wrap the show up with the annual playing of "Hotaru no Hikari"（蛍の光）. I've also now learned that Fujiyama was one of the performers at the very first edition of the Kohaku on NHK Radio back on January 3rd 1951 in which he sang "Nagasaki no Kane". He would perform the song again on the 1964, 1973 and 1979 editions.
"That's one small step for (a) man, one giant leap for mankind."
Yup, it's the 50th anniversary of the first moon landing on July 20th 1969. I was actually around on that day but being so young, I couldn't remember the event.😞 Still, I've been able to see the video of Neil Armstrong stepping onto the Moon many times and uttering that famous declaration after which I got to watch the usually unflappable CBS news anchor Walter Cronkite have a rare loss of composure.
So, today in tribute to the great adventure of Armstrong, Collins and Aldrin Jr., I've decided to feature a few kayo or J-Pop tunes with the title of "tsuki" (moon). I've already got a few such songs up there over the years: a jazz standard-turned-anison theme, some bossa pop, an enka number by Noelle, a legendary anime heroine theme, and another romantic bossa-tinged ballad by a band from Hokkaido.
To start off, I'm going with an even older enka ballad from 1949 performed by the duo of Itsuro Takeyama（竹山逸郎）and Ryoko Fujiwara（藤原亮子）titled "Tsuki yori no Shisha"(Emissary from the Moon). This was the theme song of the second version of a movie of the same name. The movie was about a woman with a complicated past who tries to escape it by working as a devoted nurse in a Nagano Prefecture sanitarium on a highland where the patients become aware of her beauty and thus call her the title emissary from the Moon. And then comes that one special patient...
Written by Takao Saeki（佐伯孝夫）and composed by Shunichi Sasaki（佐々木俊一）, "Tsuki yori no Shisha" has that gentle and wistful melody that could describe the pastoral life up in the mountains. What struck me was how both the voices of Takeyama and Fujiwara just sweep up in the first few notes of their singing as they relate the story of Nurse Nonoyama and Mr. Hirota.
It looks like the song has become one of those chestnuts to be covered over the decades. The above performance has Takeyama alongside Aiko Hirano（平野愛子）to perform "Tsuki yori no Shisha".
Then, we have original singer Fujiwara do a solo here.
Finally, singer/actress Chieko Baisho（倍賞千恵子）provided a more contemporary cover of "Tsuki yori no Shisha" which seems to take the song a little closer to Mood Kayo.
According to my Academic Composition lecturer, Tuesday is his favourite day of the week. I'm not sure why, but I'll just leave it as that. Ordinarily, for obvious reasons, my favourite day of the week would be either Friday or Saturday, with Tuesdays coming up in the rank when singers I love show up on "Uta Kon". However, the second day of the week has now surpassed the fifth for a number of reasons: 1. I've got no classes on Wednesdays. 2. It's my after-school club day! For some reason, the club members seem to have an average age of at least 65, though I think I might've reduced it a notch...
Hachi's version
Anyway, we'll get back to my Tuesday escapades in a bit. For now, the song I'll be featuring in this article is "Karisome no Koi" (Transient Love). Having found Hachiro Kasuga's (春日八郎) aMAzing rendition quite by accident on YouTube, this mellow Mood Kayo-like ballad featuring Ginza has been one of my "Flavors of the month" for the past few months. I enjoy the rather swanky-sounding melody (because Ginza) with its jaunty rhythm, jazzy horns and strings. And its made even better with Hachi's soft crooning. While the song is sung in the perspective of a woman yearning to find love in Tokyo's fancy, neon-lit district, I must say that Kasuga manages to convey that very feeling to a T... I just love it when his voice flutters delicately when he lightly touches the higher notes. If the video hadn't specified the song's debut year and that this was a cover, I would have assumed that this was one of his own works. But, the one actually behind the original take from way back in 1949 was Machiko Sanjo (三條町子). Kasuga's one can be found in his 1977 cover album, "Nihon no Uta Meiji Taisho Showa Hayari Uta" (日本の歌 明治・大正・昭和はやりうた).
The original version
Sanjo's name is not one I had seen before in the world of ryukoka, and neither had I come across "Karisome no Koi" until I found Hachi's version, so this tune seemed to me more on the "underground" side. And that was why, just this Tuesday, I had asked the joint's regular, Grandpa 2, whom I've now decided to nickname Shiro Jiisan (Grandpa White), if he knew it. You see, Shiro-san has a vast reservoir of tunes in that white hair-capped head of his which makes what I know look like a tiny bucket of water in comparison, so I was keen to find out where the boundary was. I was ready to recommend it in the oft chance it was uncharted territory, but, of course, it was on his map.
My Japanese is still half-past-all-the-numbers-on-the-clock-face, so somewhere along the way of posing the aforementioned question, Shiro-san interpreted that I wanted him to sing "Karisome no Koi" for me, and so he did. Unfortunately, he blanked out at the start as he'd forgotten how it went, so I stepped in to sing it with him... even though I had never sung the song either. The impromptu duet turned out OK - I think - and I did find it equal parts funny and nice, considering how the reserved fellow so readily dived into a song I brought up. 10/10 would sing it with him again. He amuses me.
Coming back from my tangent, after looking up information on Sanjo, I found out that "Karisome no Koi" was not as "underground" as I had thought since it was her biggest and breakout hit, and she'd even sang it on the 2nd installment of the Kohaku in 1952. Perhaps why I hadn't heard of her prior was due to her retiring in the 50s or 60s (the J-Wiki's not clear on that) after getting married, but she seemed to float in and out of the music scene after the fact - transient, just like the love in her song. I'm sorry, I had to, and it's been ages since I made some lousy music-based pun anyways.
Not Ginza, but it's got the song's vibe.
P.S. I think the only way I can beat Shiro-san at the music game is to bring in names like Kiyoshi Hikawa (氷川きよし) to the table... Eh, but that seems a little unfair to the septuagenarian, and it kinda takes away the challenge (on my part). Time to pull out the Hachi and Haru-san gems.
Traditional Japanese folk songs, or min'yo（民謡）, have never been part of my expertise, and I believe Noelle is more of an expert there than I am. However, when I was watching NHK's walking tour show "Buratamori"（ブラタモリ...Strolling With Tamori） last Sunday, tarento emeritus Tamori（タモリ）and his co-host were in Wakayama Prefecture, the home of my ancestors. I noticed that either Tamori or one of the local scholars remarked on a song called "Kushimoto Bushi"(Kushimoto Song) that is very representative of the prefecture.
As I said, min'yo is a genre of Japanese music that I don't know very much about. However, I think part of the raison d'etre for "Kayo Kyoku Plus" is not only introducing people to the songs that I love but also for me to learn more about the songs that I'm unaware of. Moreover, "Buratamori" is one NHK program that I have yet to reference when it comes to music, so this is my opportunity right here and right now.
According to the Wikipedia definition, a lot of min'yo describes life in the workplace. However, it seems with "Kushimoto Bushi", there isn't much of an emphasis on work but more of the idyllic life in the Kushimoto area of Wakayama. I did find a translation of the lyrics at Narkive that you can quickly peruse.
I couldn't find out when "Kushimoto Bushi" had been first written and composed but one rendition of the folk song was recorded in 1949 by the singer Otomaru（音丸）who performed in the Taisho and Showa eras. Otomaru who was born as either Matsuko or Mitsuko Nagai（永井満津子）in 1906. From an early age, she was trained in traditional dancing and a certain style of narrative for kabuki dances. However, when she turned 25, her beloved younger brother passed away and she fell into despair. But she recovered when she discovered the joy of min'yo. Otomaru then made her official debut as a singer in 1934 and then came up with hit songs. Her discography can be separated into regular kayo and min'yo.
Otomaru passed away from heart failure at the age of 69 in 1976.
One thing that I hadn't expected when looking for various renditions of "Kushimoto Bushi" was that there had been a cover version that took on a spicier tone of Latin jazz. This was the version that Chiemi Eri（江利チエミ）recorded back in 1958, and instead of thinking of a traditional dance around a grand elevated stage, I immediately thought hip-swiveling salsa.
January 11 2021: I've also done a follow-up of Eri's version because of a most unusual rendition.
A couple of days ago, I was watching enka singer Hiroshi Itsuki's（五木ひろし）NHK music-variety show (I really ought to talk about that program sometime soon) which seems to get plugged into a time slot on TV Japan whenever the usual program has been pre-empted for whatever reason. The theme for the episode was Tokyo-based kayo, something that has also been done on "Uta Kon"（うたコン）in the past.
However, one of the songs that was featured was an old kayo that I had never heard before. It was titled "Tokyo no Sora, Aoi no Sora" (Tokyo Sky, Blue Sky) and the original singer was Haruo Oka（岡晴夫）, the same fellow who had sung the jaunty "Akogare no Hawaii Koro"（憧れのハワイ航路）in 1948. It's a song that I've heard myself over the decades but have only gotten to know and pay attention to in the last number of years.
"Tokyo no Sora, Aoi no Sora" was released in March 1949, and like the more famous "Akogare no Hawaii Koro", it's got plenty of jump. In fact, I would say that Yoshi Eguchi's（江口夜詩）music is quite the whirling dervish of kayo, probably to match Miyuki Ishimoto's（石本美由起）lyrics of a young couple painting the town red on what must have been one heck of a weekend date. I'm sure that Oka must have gotten quite the workout recording this in the booth. But it's got plenty of optimism; I don't know what the state of Tokyo was in 1949, some four years after the war had ended, but if it's anything like singer, lyricist and composer have described it, then perhaps the capital city was really turning a corner. Incidentally, both Eguchi and Ishimoto were also responsible for the creation of "Akogare no Hawaii Koro".
There's a clearer and crisper cover of the original song by Hachiro Kasuga（春日八郎）who recorded it in 1976 as a part of his album "Kasuga Hachiro Oka Haruo wo Utau"（春日八郎 岡晴夫を歌う...Hachiro Kasuga Sings Haruo Oka）. Listening to both versions, I got that feeling of Tokyo being that hive of industry and activity, and if I were to compare the tune to a Hollywood movie, I would think it was kinda like the first few minutes of "An American in Paris" with George Gershwin's magnificent score in the background.
Whenever a song were to be firmly wedged into my brain, I realise, more often than not, the song in question would be a pre or post war song. Could be a new discovery or an old favourite, be as it may, the moment I listen/hum along to/think of a ryukoka, it would linger in my head for days. I believe that's what J-Canuck calls an ear worm. I'm not sure why music from that era sticks to me like industrial strength super glue. Probably it's because they're simple and catchy, which explains why a good number of them are still popular over seventy years down the road.
This brings us to what I shall be sharing today: My list of some of my favourite ryukoka at this point in time that were spawned during the 1930s and 1940s. I had initially planned on including stuff from the 50's as well but decided against it after some thought. The reason being, if I did so, the list would inevitably comprise of Hachi, Michi, Muchi and Minami. Now, as much as I like them, I feel that I've been talking about them a lot, and adding the four here would then make the list rather predictable and therefore... boring. That being said, there is one fellow here that, I feel, won't be much of a surprise either.
In this article, I've narrowed my picks down to one song per singer for simplicity's sake, and I'll also be highlighting the lines from each entry that always comes to mind. For the latter, it's not necessarily because I fully understand what the words mean, but mostly because I like how it sounds when sung - strange, but it is what it is.
Well, anyway, let's get to it, shall we? The songs aren't listed in any particular order.
Ichiro Fujiyama -- Tokyo Rhapsody (1936)
Tanoshii miyako koi no miyako (楽しい都 恋の都) Yume no paradise yo hana no Tokyo (夢の楽園よ 花の東京)
Tanoshii miyako indeed, Mr Fujiyama.
Oh boy, the chorus has been on repeat in my brain for the past few weeks. Out of all the tracks on this list, "Tokyo Rhapsody" (東京ラプソディ) is the most recent addition to my ryukoka favourites. Although I've been a fan of Ichiro Fujiyama's (藤山一郎) other evergreen classic, "Aoi Sanmyaku" (青い山脈) for a much longer period of time, I couldn't get enough of the faster pace and exuberance portrayed in "Tokyo Rhapsody". The video above has the newer version as well as the original. I really enjoy the new take of it for the cool and funky arrangement - just makes the song ten times catchier!
Hana wo ukabe te nagareru mizu no (花をうかべて 流れる水の) Asu no yukue wa shirane domo (明日のゆくえは 知らねども)
"Soshu Yakyoku" (蘇州夜曲) is a tune that has been covered dozens upon dozens of times in Japanese and Mandarin. I've put down the very first recorded take of it here by Noboru Kirishimaand Hamako Watanabe (霧島昇・渡辺はま子), but frankly, I'll always be happy to hear this song sung by just about anybody. While it's definitely the softest entry here, I do enjoy it for its beautiful melody - especially so in ASKA's atmospheric and languid version, which I listen to most - and romantic set of lyrics.
Dick Mine -- Tabi Sugata San'nin Otoko (1939)
Mita ka kiita ka ano tanka (見たか 聞いたか あの啖呵)
Wouldn't be list of pre and immediate post war ryukoka without something from the matatabi (股旅) label. Apparently, that's the proper term used to call songs featuring those wandering ronin. Coming back to the topic, there are a couple of matatabi enka from the late 30's that I'm always listening to - actually, I believe they're the ones that solidified my love for matatabi enka/ryukoka - but the one I tend to pick first is Dick Mine's (ディック・ミネ) "Tabi Sugata San'nin Otoko" (旅姿三人男). It's jaunty music is mainly what draws me to it... but I think that's about it because some of the lyrics still have me scratching my head and trying to figure out how they relate to each other.
Y'know when I mentioned that there's going to be a predictable artiste featured here? Yup, it's good ol' Batayan. There are also many works by Yoshio Tabata (田端義夫) that I favour but as with the aforementioned self-imposed rule, I can only choose one. So, I chose "Genkai Blues" (玄海ブルース). It was between this or the other matatabi tune I implied earlier, "Otone Tsukiyo" (大利根月夜), and the former was picked as I tend to find myself singing/humming this slightly bluesy madorosu entry more often.
Katsutaro Kouta & Issei Mishima -- Tokyo Ondo (1933)
Haa hana wa Ueno yo (ハア 花は上野よ) Choito yanagi wa Ginza (チョイト 柳は銀座) Tsuki wa Sumida no tsuki wa Sumida no yakatabune (月は隅田の 月は隅田の屋形船)
Here we have another entry dedicated to Tokyo, but this one has a Japanese flavour to it rather than Western. The festive bon odori melody and the constant "yoi yoi yoi" of "Tokyo Ondo" (東京音頭) is really quite hypnotic and catchy, latching on to me the moment I heard it at Kiyoshi Hikawa's (氷川きよし) event in Ikebukuro. As with "Soshu Yakyoku", I've put down the original version of "Tokyo Ondo" here by Katsutaro Kouta and Issei Mishima (小唄勝太郎・三島一聲). However, I normally listen to Hikawa's abridged version with it's updated score and five verses instead of the insanely long ten stanzas in the original - I'm fond of the song, yes, but there's only that much of a bon odori song I can take in one sitting before I call it quits.
Haruo Oka -- Akogare no Hawaii Koro (1948)
Hare ta sora soyogu kaze (晴れた空 そよぐ風) Minato defune no dora no ne tanoshi (港出船の ドラの音愉し) Wakare tape wo egao dekireba (別れテープを 笑顔で切れば) Nozomi hatenai haruka na shioji (希望はてない 遥かな潮路) Ah ah ah akogare no Hawaii koro (あゝ 憧れのハワイ航路)
Coming to the end of the article (thanks for sticking around), the last ryukoka that has been a perennial favourite of mine is Haruo Oka's (岡晴夫) "Akogare no Hawaii Koro" (憧れのハワイ航路). Ah, that was a time when I thought the mannerisms of the likes of Oka when performing were utterly amusing - honestly, I still find it quite funny now.
As you've probably noticed, I've highlighted the entire first stanza of "Akogare no Hawaii Koro" instead of simply a line or two. My reason for this is that firstly, I have it so firmly implanted into my brain that it doesn't take much for me to utter out the whole thing; secondly, this one stanza from the optimistic lyrics, combined with the jolly melody, gave me my first taste of what music was like in post-war Japan when I was still happily listening to just Chage and Aska. It was weird at first, but it was hard not to like it after a few listens.
That's the end of this article. I hope you enjoyed listening to these ancient classics. I might do one on my favourite songs from the 50's and/or 60's sometime, but we'll see how it goes... When I do, I promise I will be objective in my choices and the article won't just be filled with Hachi's works.
I never went there myself but my English circle of housewives, being quite adventurous and having traveled together to all sorts of place within and outside of Japan (including my neck of the woods), has visited Oze（尾瀬）, the famous marshland that straddles the three prefectures of Gunma, Fukushima and Niigata. Oze has been characterized by that man-made wooden pathway that snakes through the entire area.
Last night, NHK's "Uta Kon"（うたコン）came back on and the theme was the end of summer. One of the songs featured was "Natsu no Omoide" (Summer Memories), a very sepia-toned tribute to the Oze marshland.
Written by Shoko Ema（江間章子）and composed by Yoshinao Nakata（中田喜直）, "Natsu no Omoide" was first heard on an NHK kayo radio program in 1949 when it was performed by chanson singer and essayist Yoshiko Ishii（石井好子）. However, her version was never released as a 45". In fact, it wouldn't be released as a single until 1954 when venerable singer Ichiro Fujiyama（藤山一郎）did a cover version with the Columbia Women's Chorus Group.
"Natsu no Omoide" hasn't belonged to any one singer but has been covered by a variety of artists over the years. It has become a standard, and the song which seems perfectly made to be sung by high school chorus groups has been listed in school textbooks and music books, and even became a part of the long list of tunes introduced on the NHK five-minute music program "Minna no Uta"（みんなのうた...Everyone's Songs）in 1962.
As I said, it's been covered many times but I have to say that I adore Chieko Baisho's（倍賞千恵子）own version. It just seems so motherly. Lyricist Shoko Ema grew up close to the mountains of Iwate Prefecture in the north, and the area was known for mizubasho, a plant known as the white skunk cabbage. In her thirties during World War II, she occasionally visited Oze which also had plenty of white skunk cabbage as well as other examples of flora. As the name hints, the mizubasho isn't exactly the sweetest smelling flower but in spite of that, Ema found the area to be a wonderland and in 1947, when NHK asked her to come up with a song that would embody dreams and hopes, Oze apparently popped up in her head. "Natsu no Omoide" was the result.
I've been enjoying Naoko Kawai's（河合奈保子）"Jewel Box 2" set of 5 CDs (with thanks to Michael Wishlow) from 2003 over the last number of months. Disc 4 has been quite interesting since it has all of the rare takes of the singer...songs that were never placed directly into Naoko-chan's discography but were contributions to other compilations or media. I read that there were a couple that had never been placed on any listenable media before "Jewel Box 2" since they were only utilized as music on her videos.
One of the rare songs was Track 12, Kawai's rendition of the kayo classic "Aoi Sanmyaku" (Blue Mountain Range) which I have already written about. What struck me about it was the arrangement by composer-arranger Katsuhisa Hattori（服部克久）, the son of the original composer Ryoichi Hattori（服部良一）. From my ears, Hattori filsseems to have given "Aoi Sanmyaku" a taste of 1970s disco orchestra as applied to some of the anime back then such as "Uchuu Senkan Yamato"（宇宙戦艦ヤマト...Space Crusier Yamato）and "Macross"（マクロス）. Being fans of both shows and their soundtracks, Kawaii doing this number immediately perked up my ears. I was half-expecting a fleet of Black Tigers and Valkyries to come storming over that mountain range.
It took a bit of tracking down but I found out that this somewhat funkified version of "Aoi Sanmyaku" had originally been part of a 1985 tribute to Hattori pere in the form of a two-record (2-CD?) album titled "SHOWA RHAPSODY ~ Hattori Ryoichi Sakuhinshuu"（服部良一作品集...The Ryoichi Hattori Collection）. Not sure if this collection is even available outside of scouring the auction sites since I didn't see the album pop up readily on the search engines. As a kayo fan, I would be intrigued in finding out what some of the other tracks are like.
First off, I did catch that tsunami alert on NHK which went on 4 hours earlier today. The earthquake which had preceded it was moderate but nothing like the 2011 temblor at a Shindo 5 minus, but that tsunami warning immediately had everyone on edge. When I saw that large red-and-white banner on the screen literally screaming 「にげて」(flee!), that definitely held my attention and concern for a good long while. I am hoping that the only damage to the Pacific coast was just to everyone's wits.
Continuing on, last week during the Kyoto-themed episode of "Uta Con" (うたコン), I heard a rather unusual song on the show called "Shamisen Boogie-Woogie". In recent years, there have been some attempts at melding genres such as rock with traditional Japanese music. Little did I know that the mixing and matching had been occurring as far back as the immediate postwar era.
So it was in 1949, when this song combined some nice old enka with something jazzy and had it performed by Ichimaru（市丸）, a singer as well as a professional geisha. Born in 1906 as Matsue Goto（後藤まつゑ）in Matsumoto City, Nagano Prefecture, she left home in her mid-teens to work at a geisha house and gradually went up through the ranks to become a geisha but also did extra training to improve her singing skills. In 1931, the Victor Recording Company took notice and signed her up so that she could record 3 songs to start her career that year.
Following World War II, Ichimaru, who already had recorded numerous songs to her credit, took an interest in American culture and especially one of America's greatest exports to the world, jazz. From this admiration was born the hit "Shamisen Boogie-Woogie", this rather eclectic mix of shamisen and swing. Written by Takao Saeki（佐伯孝夫）and composed by Ryoichi Hattori（服部良一）, I think "Shamisen Boogie-Woogie" could have the progenitor for a number of Hibari Misora's（美空ひばり）uptempo songs (she was just a kid when this song was released) and maybe even the whole dodonpa music fad a number of years later.
And here I was thinking that New Music and City Pop were the original Japanese music genres to meld Western melodies with Japanese lyrics. Well, perhaps I'm being a bit overly generous with that assessment. "Shamisen Boogie-Woogie" still sounds mostly like a tune that I would hear at a summer festival in Japan but still, it does have that melodic feeling of a glass of shochu spiked with a few hits of scotch.
Strangely enough, Ichimaru hasn't been the only geisha-singer that I have written about in the last few weeks.
Working and living in the Tokyo area, there was a lot to like about the megalopolis: city centres with their own distinct personalities, great food and plenty of spots for my friends and I to enjoy. Rush hours were one of the few things that I didn't like but with my daily schedule, I was able to avoid most of them.
So when I heard and saw Kiyoshi Hikawa（氷川きよし）give his proud performance of the old chestnut "Tokyo no Yane no Shita" (Under the Roof of Tokyo) last week on "Uta Kon"（うたコン）, I could relate to the ode that the lyrics were making to Japan's capital city.
"Tokyo no Yane no Shita" was originally sung by singer and heartthrob, the late Katsuhiko Haida（灰田勝彦）, as one of his singles from 1949. Arranged as this contented but proud stroll of a song, Haida, who was actually born in Honolulu in 1911 and spent most of his first decade in the future American state, crooned his romantic compliments to the various areas of Tokyo such as "the love promenade of Hibiya", "the night tango of Shinjuku" and "the dream paradise of Asakusa". Somewhat florid words to be sure, but at the time of its release, Japan was still coming out of the shadow of war so perhaps people were seeing the hopes of a rebuilt Tokyo or its actual rebirth.
The song was written by Takao Saeki（佐伯孝夫）and composed by Ryoichi Hattori（服部良一）.
One recommendation that I would have is to take a good long walk through one of the distinct neighborhoods of Tokyo and then make that journey from one area to another. Walking from the bustling Ueno to high-tech Akihabara would be one example. I once took an all-day journey one day during the Golden Week holidays to make that trek from Asakusa all the way down to Shibuya in about 6 hours while following (and not taking) the Ginza Line. A lot of different environments to be had, and although my feet were sore (at me) for days afterwards, it was worth it. Of course, I won't ask you to try anything quite that crazy but it goes to show that Tokyo is a great walking city.
Ah, I'm back in my comfort zone. Ain't nothing like Yoshio Tabata's (田端義夫) plucking away at the electric guitar strapped to his chest.
For the last half of January and the first half of February it has been quite blustery and wet and overcast here in Singapore (was only the first of the 3 today). Not that I'm complaining though as I enjoy these short periods of time where I'm able to walk to school from the train station without breaking a sweat at the cost of getting rained on, but hey, I'd rather that. So I tried to think of a tune that revolves around windy and rainy weather... The only thing that came to mind was this sentence "Arashi fuki maku Genkai koe te". Initially I thought that would be perfect as "Arashi" means storm, until I played out the rest of song in my head did I realise it came from none other than Batayan's "Genkai Blues" which doesn't have much to do with rain or wind besides this one line in its last stanza. Ah, well.
"Genkai Blues" is one jaunty tune in both its original and modern takes on it with the horns blaring away and the low notes of the electric guitar providing a base, but the scratchy original from 1949 is slower in pace. Listening to it brings the image of Batayan in a sailor's hat as he sits by the water at the docks singing "Genkai Blues" with his trusty black and brown guitar while watching the boats/ships come and go. Yoshiji Nagatsu (長津義司) was the one behind the music - he had worked with Tabata on quite a few of his singles, including "Otone Tsukiyo" (大利根月夜).
I have heard the term "Genkainada" (玄界灘) often in enka, which refers to the Genkai Sea - southwestern tip of the Sea of Japan and borders the northern coasts of Fukuoka and Saga (courtesy of Wikipedia) - so I have an inkling that "Genkai Blues" was about the aforementioned sea. A little more in depth research made me doubt that as searching for "Genkai" came out with other results besides the body of water, including a town of the same name in Saga (and Fukuoka)... which faces the Genkai Sea. Reading Hisao Otaka's (大高ひさを) lyrics, I do believe that the focus of "Genkai Blues" is Genkai town since the sea is only mentioned and the second stanza describes a town scene - bronze lamps, cabaret bars.
Close to what I envisioned, just that I
imagined him in white instead of red.
store.shopping.yahoo.co.jp/ways/12cd-1084
Dang it, this is going to get stuck in my head for a while again.
Reading J-Canuck's article on "Ginza Kankan Musume" (銀座カンカン娘) had me thinking of other tunes like it - jaunty, post-war, and hugely popular even in the current millenium. And the song that popped into my mind first was Ichiro Fujiyama's (藤山一郎) "Aoi Sanmyaku". The fact that it's been requested twice in a row during the recent "Omoide no Melody" (2014 and 2015) and sung from time to time on music shows like "Kayo Concert" and "Thursday 8 o'clock Concert" just proves its popularity - though I've not yet heard it in its entirety, much to my disappointment.
I was first introduced to "Aoi Sanmyaku" through a snippet of the aforementioned "8 o'clock Concert" (link above) where the night's guest performers were split into two teams of four, the Mountain Team and the Sea Team, and each member singing songs based on their given theme. I watched that quite a while back, around the time that I was still unfamiliar with most old enka/ryukoka and even some of the singers present, so most of the tunes just flew over my head. The only one that managed to make an ever so slight impression (it only made me familiar with the title and probably just one sentence) was "Aoi Sanmyaku", sung by the Mountain Team's captain, Kiyoshi Maekawa (前川清) - maybe because he was also the only one I bothered to listen to at that point in time - but that was about it. As to how I came to truly enjoy ancient number is still a bit of a blur, but I have a feeling that it might have been at the start of an older episode of "Nippon no Uta".
Anyway, as with most songs, what drew me to "Aoi Sanmyaku" was none other than its memorable score that makes one want to clap along to, and it definitely has a knack of getting stuck in my brain often too. Composed by the same person responsible for the music to "Ginza Kankan Musume", Ryuichi Hatori (服部良一), the trumpets blaring away in that brisk pace brings the image of an old, smoke-spewing locomotive chugging along through the mountains to mind. In a carriage sits our protagonist who's anxious yet pumped about the changes and challenges he may face upon arriving at his new destination. To take his mind off such worrying thoughts, he looks out the window to admire the hilly terrain of the blue mountain range. Get it? Sorry. Poet and lyricist, Yaso Saijo (西條八十), penned the lyrics.
I think this was part of "Aoi Sanmyaku" the movie...
"Aoi Sanmyaku" was released in 1949. It was originally a duet between Fujiyama and Mitsue Nara (奈良光枝) back when it came out, and it was used as the theme song to a movie of the same name. But when Nara passed away in 1977, the song became Fujiyama's. Strangely enough, Fujiyama sung "Aoi Sanmyaku" once (or twice, if you count his special appearance medley in 1979) on the Kohaku in 1989, despite being that well received. Well, but it did come in first out of two hundred Showa era songs in this NHK show "Showa no Uta Kokoro ni Nokoru 200" (昭和の歌・心に残る200) that aired in 1989.
Many singers, young and old, have done covers of this song, but out of those that I've seen, the name I was most taken aback by when reading the "Covers" portion of the tune's J-Wiki page was Hiroshi Tachi (舘ひろし). From his overall bad boy persona, it did not occur to me at all that he'd have a go at "Aoi Sanmyaku", of all songs. However, I must say that Tachi's funky rendition of this ryukoka with that low, gentle voice of his - a stark contrast to Fujiyama's nasally warble - was interesting to hear. I kinda like it... What? No..., it's not because Tachi sang it... ... Okay, well, sort of... but still, it's a cool take on the song. His version was titled "Aoi Sanmyaku '88", released in October 1988, and it was also used for the theme song to, well, "Aoi Sanmyaku '88" (I think it was a remake of the original movie too), starring the actor himself.
acore-omiya.com
Oh, J-Canuck did an article on "Aoi Sanmyaku" too a while ago, you can check it out here.
Less than an hour ago, I was watching the latest episode of NHK's "Nodo Jiman"（のど自慢）singing contest show which had guests in the form of SMAP and Fuyumi Sakamoto（坂本冬美）. One of the participants was a 75-year-old lady who wanted to sing a song in tribute to her recently departed husband who had sung the song to her.
The song was "Ginza Kankan Musume" from 1949 as originally sung by the late actress Hideko Takamine（高峰秀子）. When I listened to the lady's rendition and then the original, the old-fashioned boogie beat was front and centre, and I kinda realized where eclectic 90s bandJitterin Jinn got its inspiration. The song was created by Takao Saeki and Ryoichi Hattori（佐伯孝夫・服部良一）as the theme for the movie of the same name which starred Takamine. According to J-Wiki, by 1952, Takamine's single had sold about 420,000 records.
At first, I thought the meaning of the title was referring to can-can dancers performing in some Ginza nightclub, but according to the explanation in the J-Wikiarticle for the song, the kankan was actually a word derived by a movie director Kajiro Yamamoto（山本嘉次郎）, although he wasn't the one behind this particular movie (Koji Shima「島耕二」was the actual director). It was a play on words for panpan musume which referred to "unlicensed prostitutes". The kankan musume meant "short-tempered ladies" who had to somehow survive the immediate postwar years.
As for Takamine, she was born in 1924 in Hakodate, Hokkaido and entered show business as a child actor who gained so much fame that she was seen as the Japanese Shirley Temple. As she grew up, she started getting roles as tough-minded and hard-working women, Although she retired from acting in the late 1970s, she continued working as an essayist.
Being a kayo classic, "Ginza Kankan Musume" was covered by a number of singers including Hibari Misora（美空ひばり）. I'm uncertain when Misora's smooth and nimble version was originally recorded but it is on an album titled "Misora Hibari Cover Song Collection" from 2007 by Columbia Music Entertainment.
In 2001, Yosui Inoue（井上陽水）provided his own cover with a rock beat in his album, "United Cover". Leave it to Mr. O-genkides'ka to give a fresh perspective to an old chestnut.
Tonight, my family and I caught the 46th annual "Omoide no Melody"（思い出のメロディー...The Melodies of Your Memories）special on NHK. It's been a televised tradition since 1969 and it has been called the Summer Kohaku Utagassen since it is shown in August. The pomp and circumstance is slightly more toned down and there's a lot more emphasis on the fact that the songs sung on the program are through viewer requests, but the key point here is that the entries here are all absolutely natsumero. I think the most recent song performed tonight was dated 1974.
Anyways, I was able to hear a lot of stuff that I can talk about in the days to come on the blog. A few of them have already been profiled, but there were also other songs that jogged my dormant brain cells and others that I have heard but never knew what the title was or who sang it originally.
One example was "Aoi Sanmyaku"(Blue Mountain Range) which was actually at the very end of the broadcast when everyone came out to do the sendoff singalong. I had heard it many times but the title and the singer were mysteries until now. "Aoi Sanmyaku" originated in 1949 as the theme song for the movie of the same name. The movie itself has been re-done a number of times over the decades. As for the famous theme, it was written by Yaso Saijo （西條八十）and composed by Ryoichi Hattori（服部良一）who had also created another evergreen kayo kyoku, "Tokyo Boogie Woogie". The original singer was Ichiro Fujiyama （藤山一郎）who I felt gave a heartfelt but surprisingly laid-back version compared to the jauntier performances that I have been accustomed to whenever the song is sung.
The above clip is a scene from the movie along with a choral rendering of the theme song.
(Unfortunately the video has been taken down.)
As I've said, "Aoi Sanmyaku" has been covered thousands of times, and perhaps I'm underestimating myself even with that figure. Even AKB 48 has given their version.
And to take things further into the 21st century, even the vocaloids have gotten into the act. In any case, "Aoi Sanmyaku" is just one of those kayo that everyone can clap and get into.
June 20, 2017: You can even hear a disco orchestra version of the song here.
On this day 25 years ago, Japan lost one of its great singing legends in Hibari Misora（美空ひばり）. 1989 was a year in which there was no Internet as we know it and there was no TV Japan cable service so news about her passing didn't have the immediate impact on us here as it would have if she had passed away today. Even so, somehow news of her death managed to reach us relatively quickly. I don't recall how we were able to know but I figure that Misora cast such a huge shadow on Japanese contemporary culture that perhaps international news services such as CNN had to have made some mention about it. I could only imagine how the news hit the Japanese population on June 24 1989.
On tonight's episode of NHK's "Kayo Concert"（歌謡コンサート）, there was a full-length show devoted to the late Misora which featured a number of her greatest hits, some of which I have already profiled. When it comes to the genre of enka, it seems that my raison d'etre for creating this blog and watching shows like "Kayo Concert" is to re-discover some of the long lost songs of my childhood at home. And sure enough, lightning struck once more when singer Aki Yashiro （八代亜紀）paid tribute to the Grand Dame of Kayo Kyoku via her version of "Kanashiki Kuchibue" (Sad Whistling). As the song was performed, I remembered a lot of the notes from the old-style jazzy ballad.
But there was a lot of information about the song that I did not know about. It was released in September 1949 as the theme song for a musical-comedy movie of the same name starring a 12-year-old Misora. The video above has that little girl performing "Kanashiki Kuchibue" at what was most likely the climax of the movie. She was also wearing that full tuxedo and silk hat that has become one of the most famous images that everyone has of the singer. It was amazing watching that performance as this diminutive girl who looked younger than 12 sang in a voice and traipsed around the floor in a fashion that made her much older than 12. The song was written by Ko Fujiura（藤浦洸）and composed by Tadashi Manjome（万城目正）, and was fashioned to describe Misora's hometown of Yokohama (the movie was also set there). The lyrics describe a somewhat melancholy night there as the hotel lights and the light in the protagonist's heart go out and the titular sad whistle is echoing through the dark like rain at the port. The song then progresses into the bittersweet aftermath of romance gone. "Kanashiki Kuchibue" is listed in J-Wiki as a ryukoka (literally, pop song in Japanese) but I thought there was so much atmosphere in it that I also had to label it as a Mood Kayo. Would love to have a drink to it.
The above video has Misora performing the song years later (sorry but that video has been taken down), and the vibrancy of her vocals is just incredible. It's how I remember listening to her. And this is how I had always seen her. Instead of the little wunderkind in the black-&-white movies, I remember seeing this glamourous middle-aged woman lighting up the stage and probably terrifying her fellow celebrities at the same time considering how big she was.
"Kanashiki Kuchibue" became the highest-selling record in the postwar era at the time, selling about 450,000 records. It was Misora's first bona-fide hit and currently resides in the 10th position in the Top 10 of her most popular singles.
