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.
I came across this quintessential song by Mood Kayo group Hiroshi Wada & Mahina Stars（和田弘とマヒナスターズ）recently so of course, I was going to post something about it. But for whatever reason, I couldn't find any sign of it on the band's long discography originating from 1958 on J-Wiki. However, when I dug elsewhere, I found Mahina Stars' website via Japan Victor and found out that their discography goes back even further to 1953! Indeed, this particular song "Tokyo no Hito" (Man of Tokyo) was released in 1957.
"Tokyo no Hito", which was written by Takao Saeki（佐伯孝雄）and composed by Tadashi Yoshida（吉田正）, has that mournful arrangement that Mahina Stars were especially famous for, thanks to the delivery of the voices and the Hawaiian steel pedal guitar that seems to cry out its melody. Not sure if this is what the songwriters had had in mind, but in the immediate postwar era, a lot of young able-bodied people (perhaps as young as middle school graduates) were heavily encouraged to come from the countryside to the cities to man the engines to drive Japan back to economic prosperity. A certain genre of kayo kyoku played upon the homesickness that many of these urban workers in the factories and office buildings probably felt and perhaps one of those songs is "Tokyo no Hito". A good song to drown out one's sorrows, n'est-ce-pas?
Back on Monday, when I wrote up the piece on Hachiro Izawa's（井沢八郎）"Otokogasa"（男傘）, I made mention of the observation that there was a pounding on the piano keys in that kayo kyoku which reminded me of one of the earliest and most memorable television theme songs that I'd ever heard. I also stated that I would cover this today as this week's Reminiscings of Youth entry.
Well, here it is. Actually, this should be called a Reminiscings of Baby entry because when I was born, "Perry Mason" (1957-1966) was in its final season but of course, even back then in the age of black-and-white TV sets, there were the reruns so I got to hear the dramatic theme song over and over again. Perhaps my parents were into the legal series although I couldn't imagine that they could understand what was going on in Perry's courtroom.
The theme song for "Perry Mason" by Fred Steiner turned up a lot of interesting tidbits...kinda like a typical episode of the show itself. For one thing, it's one of the few times that I've encountered a TV theme song that actually had a proper title and not just the "The Theme from (blank)". It was called "Park Avenue Beat" and a fellow Blogger blog "Ill Folks" gave its own story on the theme back in 2013 so have a look at that one.
Another good point about the theme was that it mixed the saucy R&B/jazz of the streets where a lot of the sordidness that Perry and his staff had to wade through existed with the elegant symphonic strings of the high life of fancy restaurants and dance halls which Perry also inhabited. I also think that "Park Avenue Beat" melodically traced the usual episode of "Perry Mason": it starts with an ominous trill and crash which could reflect a violent crime being committed and then it goes into the jazzy symphony as the burly Raymond Burr as Perry comes into the picture and investigates the heck out of the case before winning it by the end. Considering that glowering expression and his linebacker appearance (albeit decked out in one fine suit), I was surprised that I never saw Mason use his fists and that it was his mind and voice that he used as weapons.
We're talking about 1957 here today. What were the hits of that year?
As I noted in my previous article, due to Wednesday the 29th being Showa Day in Japan (and thus the official start to Golden Week), NHK's "Uta Con"（うたコン）devoted a good chunk of its broadcast tonight to some of the Showa Erakayo kyoku which I was plenty grateful about. After all, this is what we're all here for when it comes to this blog.
I recollect that I may have done something in the past to commemorate Showa Day via an Author's Picks but I decided to still go ahead with another try at a list. Initially, I'd thought about bringing over some of a list of most popular Showa Erakaraoke songs but when I realized that most of those songs originated in the years 1985 to 1987, I jettisoned that idea for being a little too centralized, time-wise. Then, after some more thought, I blurted out "Oh, what the heck!". I'll just let my memories pick out one song that immediately comes to mind when I think of a certain decade or period within Showa (1926-1989) and let the chips fall where they may.
The list below only consists of five songs...yes, very inadequate (I've left out City Pop and Group Sounds, for instance) but take this as an opportunity for folks to chime in with their representative kayo choices. Anyways, anything that would seem adequate would probably force me to make a new blog. Plus, Labels would throw a major tantrum at me. Still, allow me to mention the Blue Comets'"Blue Chateau"（ブルー・シャトウ）from 1967 and Miki Matsubara's（松原みき）"Mayonaka no Door"（真夜中のドアー）from 1979.
Last year, I had the honour of meeting Isao Hayashi's (林伊佐緒) eldest son, Masao Hayashi (林眞佐緒), during a mini fan club gathering in commemoration of the singer-songwriter's 30th death anniversary. It was so surreal - the octogenarian was almost a mirror image of his father, so it was like meeting Hayashi sensei, but also not really, but also really. We had lunch after visiting the Hayashi family grave, and among the several things discussed over sushi, we got a better glimpse into Isao Hayashi the man.
But first, my general impression of Hayashi sensei. He just looks like a chill guy. In photos, he's got this rather laidback, sometimes a little sleepy look. In video clips, he gives off a rather friendly, unaffected air, albeit still looking rather sleepy. His fun little ditties also had me assuming that he would've been fun-loving, and perhaps on the somewhat chattier side. Hypothetically speaking, aside from my Hachiro Kasuga, I think Hayashi would be a singer I would be less afraid to approach.
Perhaps I'm not completely off the mark in terms of the "working outside" Hayashi as other singers have testified to him being rather easygoing. However, according to Masao, "at home" Hayashi was essentially silent. On the rare occasion he wasn't on regional recital tours (so, probably less than 10 days per month at his peak), he'd be quietly unwinding at home. The man wouldn't even hum a tune! This revelation surprised us all at the fan club luncheon, but in hindsight, if I had to be out and about for most of the month, the last thing I want to do when I get home is expend more energy. I already get like that after a single day of activity, let alone several weeks. I also recall someone saying that even in later-day TV appearances, he tended to leave the talking to others. I guess Hayashi was just a way quieter figure that I (we) had once assumed.
Anyways, let's poorly segway into the song I'll be featuring this article, Sogen wo yuku otoko (The man wandering the plains) from 1957. Hayashi composed and arranged this himself, and his partner in crime Ryo Yano (矢野亮) took care of the lyrics. It's a Western-themed tune that catches a cowboy on an aimless journey as the sun sets over the plains. It's slow, steady pace is not unlike the walking gait of the horse he's on. Our protagonist is probably a stoic lone wolf who sheds nary a tear, but something about the twilight hours has him feeling sentimental and maybe a little homesick. Hayashi's softer, more emotive vocals here, which is a departure from his usual hearty style, captures the cowboy's blues. Yet, the tender strings still somewhat hold that sense of adventure present in Wild West-themed works, so despite feeling a little down, it seems like our cowboy still looks to tomorrow for his next adventure.
Although Sogen wo yuku otoko has an overall forlorn quality, it encapsulates an amalgamation of my earlier impression of the singer-songwriter with what his son shared: relaxed and easygoing; somewhat reticent, but still warm and kinda fun. I like this song quite a lot - it's great during golden hour - and I guess it's why I'm starting to like Hayashi a little more than before (from the point of coming across Tokyo Serenade (東京セレナーデ), that is).
It's hard to believe that another year is coming to a close. Looking back on 2025, I did a lot, especially in the realm of ryukoka and kayokyoku, so much so that I’d mistaken some events for having taken place the year before. That said, I’m exhausted. I don’t know what’s in store for 2026, but I look forward to it.
Anyways, during some Decembers, I usually put up an Author's Picks article that summarises all or some of what I like. I ended up going with the latter. What theme did I go with? Well, for the main ingredient, we have my favourite Hachiro Kasuga (春日八郎). That is to say that all the songs featured will be his. They are commonly called Kasuga Bushi (春日節… Kasuga Song). And then, we have 3 different spices to add to this main ingredient: Isao Hayashi (林伊佐緒), Toshiyo Kamata (鎌多俊与), and Tadaharu Nakano (中野忠晴). These 3 men worked as composers in postwar King Records and spawned a plethora of hits for the artists they wrote for, including Kasuga. Other King Records composers are most known for creating the Kasuga Bushi with its signature plaintive sound, and I may talk about them in an article similar to this another time. But here, I will only highlight a Kasuga Bushi made by the aforementioned 3.
Why Hayashi, Kamata, and Nakano specifically? Because their faces make my heart melt. It's really as simple as that. Well, there is also the fact that I have been looking into their works on my own volition, so it’s easier for me to curate an article about them. I actually got this idea when coming up with a theme to my song selection at the bi-monthly Kasuga Enka Denshokai (春日艶歌伝承会) karaoke circle. Dubbed the "Handsome Boy Composer" theme, each of the 3 songs I picked were composed by these 3 guys. With the context out of the way, let's begin.
Catching Both Rabbits with Isao Hayashi: Rozario no Shima (ロザリオの島) (1964)
Getting the ball rolling is Hayashi sensei. Among the 3 composers here, he had made the most number of Kasuga Bushi (about 24, give or take, excluding unreleased and made-to-order external requests), and can be considered one of the fan favourite Kasuga Bushi producers. An old guard of King Records, he had been wearing both the singer and composer hats since the early 1930s, and would often be singing his own works. Apparently, he had been advised to focus on one path and not double dip, using the proverb "If you run after two hares, you will catch neither." The man himself even admitted that he might have been more successful if he stuck to just singing or music-making. But he felt that he was most happy doing both, even if it costed the (relatively) reduced fame, and so that's what he did until the end of his life. Considering his list of successes in both fields, though, I think it's safe to say that he managed to catch both rabbits.
The very first song Hayashi made for Hachi was Nigate Nanda yo (苦手なんだよ) (1957), and the last was Kunashiri no Hito (国後の女) (1982), making him one of the composers who worked with Hachi fairly consistently the longest. To me, the Hayashi Kasuga Bushi tend to sound rather exotic and raw. The atmosphere created by his melodies and arrangements makes it feel as though I'm in the location featured in the song, be it a grimy alley, a lonely harbour, or somewhere outside the major cities in Japan. However, another feature I've now been looking for is if the Hayashi Kasuga Bushi was a recycled Hayashi original. It was something noticed upon delving deeper into Hayashi's self-composed postwar releases, as some of them sounded remarkably similar to some of the songs he made for Hachi. Putting two and two together, it became fairly obvious that Hayashi likely reconfigured his own songs that never became hits and sent them back out into the field to be sung by artists popular at the time (50s & 60s), like Hachi, in hopes of scoring a hit.
Hayashi as a special guest at the unveiling of Rozario no Shima in 1964. From Shinobu
Anyways, one of Hayashi-made Kasuga Bushi which I suspect could've been one of Hayashi's originals is Kasuga’s revival hit Rozario no Shima from August 1964. Rozario… with its dramatic yet somewhat foreboding atmosphere is easily one of my favourite pieces Hayashi made. It allows Hachi’ signature forlorn delivery to shine, all while also enabling him to showcase the extent of his vocal prowess. Its unique melody fits Hachi so well that I was inclined to say that nothing like this had been made prior, and then I stumbled upon Hayashi’s own Nangoku no Yo wa Fukete (南国の夜は更けて) from May 1956. The latter had a much lighter arrangement, but there was no mistaking that intro with the deep, rhythmic thrumming of the guitar (?) and the melody’s dark yet exotic tone. As far as I know, Nangoku… never became much of a hit, likely overshadowed by other incredible releases at the time. Perhaps Hayashi refused to let this interesting piece go to waste, and so he passed it on to someone who might be able to bring life into it. Hachi had already saw a resurgence in popularity with Hayashi’s Nagasaki no Hito (長崎の女) in 1963, so maybe Hayashi saw this opportunity for another of his works about southern Japan to finally shine. Shine it did.
Hayashi recycling Nangoku no Yo wa Fukete to make Rozario no Shima theory is pure speculation on my part, but it does give a new meaning to Hayashi being able to catch both the rabbits he was chasing after.
Toshiyo Kamata's Got That Fight in Him: Ruten Garasu (流転がらす) (1957)
Next up is Toshi-san. Based on what I know, he made the least Kasuga Bushi among our 3 (about 11 or so). Like Hayashi sensei, Toshi-san can also be considered one of King's old guard, having been one of the company's stars as the shadow of war loomed over Asia in the mid-30s and early 40s. Unlike Hayashi, Toshi-san solely stuck to composing music once the Pacific War ended.
The very first Kasuga Bushi Toshi-san made was Yuhi wa Moete (夕陽は燃えて)(1956), the last was Magokoro Sakaba (まごころ酒場) (1962). I believe he moved to Toshiba (records) from about 1963. I'm not sure how long he stayed at Toshiba, but he may have moved back to King in the 80s for a little bit, but I'm unclear on that. To be completely honest, I struggle to identify any distinguishing traits in the Kamata Kasuga Bushi, especially when compared to the other 2 composers. I’m by no means saying that they’re not good, though. They’re rather simple in melody and arrangement, but are nevertheless catchy and capable of striking a chord with listeners; a few of them even seem to be fan favourites and are staples in any Hachi compilation album. So, Toshi-san’s gems do find their way among the other well-loved Kasuga Bushi.
My personal favourite Toshi-san Kasuga Bushi is Ruten Garasu. It's an easy-to-listen-to matatabi mono about a down and out wanderer drifting through life. The gentle peaks and dips of the tune allows you to enjoy the smoothness and richness of early Hachi's maturing vocal quality. For some reason, I can't get Ruten Garasu out of my head, and I'd been listening to it so often this year that it became my most played song on Spotify for 2025. Apparently, in the span of 7 months, I listened to it almost 150 times. Fair play to you, Toshi-san.
Tadaharu Nakano's Butter Miso Soup: Ruten no Yoru (流転の夜) (1955)
Finally, we have Mr. Nakano to wrap up the article. I've talked about Nakano's postwar escapades and Nakano-made Kasuga Bushi extensively over the past couple of years, since I love this snazzy jazz man almost as much as I do one of the pioneers of enka. But here's a consolidated cliff notes version of what I'd talked about over several articles:
Unlike Hayashi and Kamata, Nakano, originally affiliated with Columbia Records, joined King Records in mid-1952 as a contract composer. He had left the music world in 1947, but returned after a business venture turned south. He made a mini attempt to re-debut as a singer under the moniker of Young Nakano (geez, why you gotta be so cringe, Nakano?), but that didn't really work out either; he didn't seem satisfied with his diminishing vocal abilities at the time as well, and so he stuck to making music behind the scenes, where he rediscovered success.
Nakano made about 20 official Kasuga Bushi singles, the first being Jirocho Tabi Shigure (次郎長旅しぐれ) (1953), and the last Kore ga Jinsei (これが人生)(1964). As with Nakano's other postwar compositions, the Nakano Kasuga Bushi's main attraction are the refreshing arrangements derived from snappy rhythms and a variety of instruments, often times making them sounding extremely western or (traditional) Japanese-sounding. Even for the more ordinary kayokyoku, the arrangements make sure you’re in for at least an interesting listening experience. This mostly attributed to his main collaborator, arranger Masao Ueno (上野正雄). That said, Nakano's Kasuga Bushi tend to be overshadowed by those from other composers, including the above 2, and were only middling hits at best. If I were to be completely honest, there is just something in Nakano's melodies that don't exactly match Kasuga, but I just don't know what it is. On the contrary, they fit Kasuga's junior and rival Michiya Mihashi (三橋美智也) to a T. Nevertheless, I thoroughly enjoy how Nakano’s works take Kasuga into territory I ordinarily wouldn’t expect from him.
A Nakano Kasuga Bushi I would love to feature is Sogen no Okami (草原の狼), athrilling cowboy Western with nods to prewar Kōya Mono. Alas, this is such a deep cut that it’s not available online, and so I will have to hold off on it until its audio file magically appears on the internet. So, in the meantime, I shall feature a number where Ueno’s arrangement shines the brightest, and where Hachi sounds the most at home singing: Ruten no Yoru. I’ve already written an article about it, so you can read more about it there. I have cherished memories attached to it, and suffice to say, I love this song dearly. I think this is a good place to end off my last article for 2025.
Here's to a smooth-sailing year ahead. See y'all in 2026!
My Hachiro Kasuga (春日八郎) Centenary Project may have ended, but I’ve been almost exclusively listening to Hachi songs for the past few months so, of course, I’m going to do another Hachi feature.
(Unfortunately the video has been taken down.)
Sometime earlier this year, I’ve had the privilege to receive what is perhaps the first ever and, perhaps, only album containing all of singer-songwriter Tadaharu Nakano’s (中野忠晴) compositions for Hachi. I cannot thank Hachi fan club vice president Fukui-san for creating what is the physical manifestation of my love for both the Enka veteran and the jazz dandy. There were my familiar favourites, entries I know by title but have never heard/not thought of listening to, and works I’d never seen before. Out of the latter categories, some eventually became constants on my current everyday playlist. One of them comes from the second category and is the tune of this article: Tasuke Mago Uta (Tasuke's Horse/Horse-leading Song).
Tasuke Mago Uta was released in March 1957, and accompanying Mr. Nakano's music was Jusaburo Tojo's (東條寿三郎) words. I was made aware of its existence via a mini Kayokyoku Shu (歌謡曲集… Pop song collection) from 1957 I got many years ago. This booklet contained the lyrics and music scores of some of a season's releases from various artists, Kasuga included. Tasuke... was one of those tunes that floated around YouTube, so I could've easily checked it out. Yet, I had this assumption that it was some sort of redux of Tsumakoi Toge* (妻恋峠), but infused with more Komoro Mago Uta (小諸馬子唄) min'yo. The fact that the same men made both songs reinforced this invisible barrier. It was only upon receiving the aforementioned Hachi-Nakano album when I was proved so very wrong.
Oh... Hachi... From Kayokyoku Shu (1957)
For one, Tasuke... had nothing to do with the Komoro Mago Uta and I wouldn't say it has much/any min'yo flavour. But it still has to do a horses - more on that in a bit. The swelling strings and accordion, accompanied by the rhythmic thrum of the acoustic guitar and the flute whistling playfully produce a cheerful atmosphere and a sense of optimism. Said flute also adds a layer of rusticity; together with Nakano's melody that moves at a languid pace, it feels as though you're walking through a lush valley with the mountains towering overhead. On the note of tempo and Masao Ueno (上野正雄) arrangement, even though Tasuke… predates enka's birth by several years, it's a kayo which I feel, for the above reasons, most reminiscent of modern-day enka. I don't know if Tasuke Mago Uta will find its way into my Hachi Top 10, but I can say that I like it a lot.
Moving on to Tojo's lyrics. The main question I had was: Who is this "Tasuke"? A quick search online and confirmation with the Hachi club folks revealed that he was a real Edo-era businessman Tasuke Shiobara (塩原太助). Tojo based Tasuke Mago Uta's premise on the rakugo and rokyoku tales that were inspired by his life - the original tale was the rakugo Shiobara Tasuke Ichidaiki (塩原多助一代記), and the later-day rokyoku was simply called Shiobara Tasuke (塩原多助). It was the norm for kayo and, in later days, enka to derive its source material from other forms of entertainment. Among which was none other than the once ferociously popular rokyoku - which, in turn, derived much of its source material from even older types of entertainment, like the much-loved rakugo and kodan. So, I'd say Tasuke Mago Uta is one good example of this source material borrowing chain.
Coming back to Tojo’s lyrics on the tale of Tasuke Shiobara, the song zeroes in on the part of the story before the businessman’s rise to greatness where he had to leave his Gunma hometown for Edo. In doing so, however, he also had to part ways with his beloved horse, Ao, who had been his trusted companion for (I believe) over a decade. Tojo illustrated Tasuke's sorrow and even depicted him tearfully telling Ao to take care in his absence. To my knowledge, there aren’t many kayo that specifically depict the melancholy of parting with one’s horse, so Tasuke Mago Uta’s narrative instantly reminded me of what is perhaps the kayo with this scenario: Michiya Mihashi's (三橋美智也)Tassha de na (達者でナ). Oddly enough, this was also composed by Mr. Nakano, albeit in a considerably different style. You can have a taste of it in the video below.
* Tsumakoi Toge was from 1955 and the first hit Nakano produced for Kasuga. Its main draw was the inclusion of the Nagano variant of the horse leading min’yo, Komoro Mago Uta in each stanza. The fact that the min’yo and Tasuke... share the term “Mago Uta” you can see how my assumption arose. You can give it a listen in the video below. I sound as if I dislike Tsumakoi Toge, but I'm actually fine with it. It's just that it's not one of my go-to tunes.
I've only seen taxi drivers in Japan as some of the politest and most button-down professionals in the service industry. But in the past couple of decades, I've unfortunately heard of increasing numbers of incidents of theft and assault against them. Absolutely undeserving of that.😠
Perhaps back in the middle of the 20th century, things were a little more footloose and fancy-free for the regular cab driver in the big city. That's the vibe I get from kayo singer Koichi Aoki's（青木光一）"Boku wa Nagashi no Untenshu"(I'm Just a Working Driver). Released in April 1957 with music and lyrics by Toru Funamura（船村徹）and Miyuki Hatakeyama（石本美由起）respectively, it's a song that I heard in the most recent episode of "Shin BS Nihon no Uta"（新BS日本の歌）, and it's all about a taxi driver, originally from the countryside, who's having a pretty good and interesting life in Tokyo. He's probably been privy to all sorts of intriguing conversations and information while driving all over, enjoying his dinner on the road and dreaming of bringing over his ol' flame for a tour of the capital.
Here are singers Hiroshi Takeshima and Takuya Nagasawa（竹島宏＆中澤卓也）covering "Boku wa Nagashi no Untenshu" on the kayo show "Jinsei, Uta ga Aru"（人生、歌がある）.
One of the first things that I learned about Japan as a high school student was that the nation was very resource-poor. A lot of the raw materials needed for manufacturing had to be imported. But I gradually came to realize that the Japanese still had a mining industry for various minerals within their own nation for centuries which included coal. I didn't have to look up anything (although I did read some of the "Mining in Japan" article on Wikipedia) to know though that coal mining was difficult, dirty and dangerous just from what I knew about the industry in North America.
As has been the case with other industries in Japan such as woodcutting and fishing, mining has also had its kayo kyoku representation. I've already posted on one min'yo titled "Tanko Bushi"(Coal Mine Melody) via Minyo Crusaders and the famous Michiya Mihashi（三橋美智也）. And just recently, from watching an episode of NHK's "Shin BS Nihon no Uta"（新BS日本のうた）, I found out about another Mihashi tribute to coal mining, "Oira Tankoubu" (We Are Coal Miners) that was released in 1957, about a year following his version of "Tanko Bushi".
Written by Hiroshi Yokoi（横井弘）and composed by Hachiro Konoe（近衛八郎）, under the pseudonym of Toshiyo Kamata（鎌田俊與）, "Oira Tankoubu" has, for a lack of a better word, a rather industrious melody although not quite as cheerful as the legendary "Heigh Ho". There's a certain swagger in Mihashi's vocals (even some min'yo exhortations) as well, and in combination with Konoe's music, the message seems to be "We don't look too great, we don't smell too great but we are doing great...for Japan's economic boom".
Well, my Sunday is one of the more refreshing ones that I've had in a while. The modem odyssey was finally resolved yesterday with the technician coming over; apparently it's one of the best devices according to him and a few other online articles. My Skype student was looking very clear last night. Also, Swiftie mania finally finished on Saturday when Taylor Swift held the last of her six concerts here in Toronto.
But a new season begins today. The annual Santa Claus parade will be taking place today in downtown Toronto for the 120th time (the highlight video above is from last year) which means that the Xmas season is now in full gear.
Of course, that means "Kayo Kyoku Plus" is now in Christmas mode, too. So for the next four weeks, viewers will be getting the occasional J-Xmas tune thrown in along with the regular stuff. I'm actually starting a day early because I usually begin from November 25th but with the Santa Claus parade heralding Season's Greetings today, I just went, "Heck, why not?".
The season will begin with a bit of an unusual choice because I had never expected singer and raconteur Akihiro Miwa（美輪明宏）to sing an old classic like "Jingle Bells". Most of the time, I've seen him over the decades chatting it up on talk shows and giving a rare scolding to an errant tarento but I have seen him perform chanson and tunes that I would probably say verge on the operatic and art poppish. He's already up on KKP with his 1965 "Yoitomake no Uta"（ヨイトマケの唄）.
However, years earlier, a young Miwa when he was going by the name of Akihiro Maruyama（丸山明宏）until 1971, released a first mini-album in September 1957 titled "ME-QUE ME-QUE"（メケ・メケ）, and among the tracks was his rendition of "Jingle Bells". I first found out about Miwa's version via Scott's "Holly Jolly X'masu" podcast so I should give him thanks for that; unfortunately, I don't remember which episode it was. Anyways, it's quite the tour de force performance by Miwa with a jaunty country-style arrangement by Ryoichi Hattori（服部良一）and lyrics by Miwa himself. The singer practically demands that everyone join him in a singalong which would be further emphasized by everyone getting out of their seats and doing an old-fashioned dance in the saloon. By the way, "ME-QUE ME-QUE" got a re-release in 2014.
I heard this one on a recent episode of "Shin BS Nihon no Uta"（新・BS日本のうた...Songs of Japanese Spirit） and found out that it had originally been sung by Ichiro Kanbe（神戸一郎）. He first came to KKP's attention back in October 2022 when I wrote about his "Nagoya Blues"（名古屋ブルース）which was released in 1971.
This time around, that song that I heard on the NHK kayo kyoku show is "Juu-dai no Koi Sayonara"(Farewell, My Teen Love) which happens to Kanbe's debut single from December 1957. He was still a teen when he released his first song (and yup, he cut quite the dashing figure on that cover) and yet, his vocals showed off a fairly more mature-than-expected quality which probably made him quite the crooner from the get-go. Written by Miyuki Ishimoto（石本美由起）and composed by Gento Uehara（上原げんと）, compared to the somewhat despair-sounding "Nagoya Blues", there is a bit more bittersweet yet hopeful vibe from "Juu-dai no Koi Sayonara" in a que sera sera fashion. I'm a bit torn on whether this would be now considered an enka ballad or a straight kayo kyoku, though, especially since enka wouldn't enter officially enter the Japanese lexicon until the early 1970s.
A few days ago on Thursday, my fellow KKP writer and co-administrator Noelle Tham posted her "Noelle's Favourite Hachiro Kasuga Songs Composed by Tadaharu Nakano"(中野忠晴作曲お気に入りの春日八郎曲) article in tribute to the fact that the First Enka Singer had been born in 1924, a hundred years ago. She also kindly extended the invitation to anyone else involved in the blog to provide their own angle on the late Fukushima native who had passed away in 1991 at the age of 67.
Well, I'm never going to decline that invitation especially when it seems as if I haven't heard many renditions of his old songs recently on shows such as "Uta Con"（うたコン）. But not being as much of an expert on Kasuga as Noelle, I hadn't been sure about how to go about it. Therefore, I've opted to take a slowly, slowly approach and take a look at his first several appearances on the national broadcaster's New Year's Eve special, the Kohaku Utagassen.
For the record, Kasuga appeared a total of 21 times on the Kohaku ranging from 1954 to 1989. His longest continuous stretch went from 1956 (the 7th edition) to 1969 (the 20th).
So, without further ado:
(1954) Otomi-San (お富さん) 1st appearance on the 5th edition in 1954
Noelle posted an article on "Otomi-san", based on the kabuki play of a cad trying to extort money from a wealthy merchant's concubine only to find out that the lass is his ex-girlfriend. Well, that's dang awkward...sounds perfect for a rom-com/thriller movie if updated. And as Noelle pointed out, the melody by Masanobu Tokuchi (渡久地政信) sounds so up-and-at-'em cheerful so I'm hoping that there was at least some humour in the original play. Actually, I got to know "Otomi-san" through a skit involving the late comedian Ken Shimura（志村けん）and aidoru/tarentoYoko Ishino（石野よう子）. You can take a look below at the video at 4:46.
One of the most famous kayo kyoku around and perhaps Kasuga's most representative recording, "Wakare no Ippon Sugi" is a melancholy song reflecting what was happening in Japan at the time as it struggled to recover from the ashes of war. Tens of thousands of people were being heavily encouraged to move from the countryside to the cities to work in the factories and the offices to get the nation back on its feet again, and the song itself was the story of one person making that lonely move away from his hometown. The above video shows Kasuga performing "Wakare no Ippon Sugi" for the 2nd time on the 1969 edition. He wouldn't appear again until the end of 1974.
(1957) Haha no Tayori（母の便り）3rd appearance on the 8th edition in 1957
I was scrolling down the Kasuga file on KKP to see if either Noelle or I had actually covered it. Maybe it's included in one of Noelle's compilations but I know now that it hasn't been done under my watch, so here it is. Written by Ryo Yano（矢野亮）and composed by Akira Maki（真木陽）, as with "Wakare no Ippon Sugi", "Haha no Tayori"(A Letter from Mother) is something to get the tears flowing as a son working far away from his family gets that letter from his mother to see how things are (and probably when he's coming back). The opening bars of "Haha no Tayori" say it all: it feels/sounds like a mother diligently doing the regular chores at the farmhouse knowing that her boy is giving it his all for home and country.
(1958) Wakare no Toudai（別れの燈台）4th appearance on the 9th edition in 1958
Another song that I haven't covered in the Kasuga file, initially I'd thought that "Wakare no Toudai"(Farewell at the Lighthouse) was a song of heartbreak because my impression was that the titular lighthouse would be the ideal sight in the distance for a romance to end tearfully. But perhaps I've been watching one too many J-Dramas in the past. Reading the lyrics by Kikutaro Takahashi（髙橋掬太郎） , it's more along the theme of the immediately preceding two songs...a man leaves his seaside town by ship to a faraway place in Japan or even completely overseas to make his own mark. Kenji Yoshidaya（吉田矢健治）was responsible for the wistful melody.
(1959) Tokyo no Ari（東京の蟻）5th appearance on the 10th edition in 1959
Both Noelle and I have given our respective articles regarding "Tokyo no Ari", and now having this song alongside some of Kasuga's other entries here, this 1959 hit stands out even more for its Mood Kayo sense complete with tinkling piano and bluesy saxophone. The theme of loneliness in the big city continues here as well but while the others dealt with it from the wistful rural side of things, "Tokyo no Ari" has Kasuga commiserating over his beer from the frustrating city side as he feels little different from Family Formicidae in terms of his service to the nation.
I think I've mentioned this at least once or twice before on the blog, but when it comes to the period in Japanese history that I've been drawn to the most, it's been the postwar era because of how Japan was able to rise up from the ashes to become the 2nd-biggest economic power for many years (it's possibly come down to 4th as of this writing). One factor behind the government's charge to get the nation back up onto its feet again was its encouragement of people as young as junior high school graduates to move from the countryside into the cities to work in the factories and offices. It was a massive domestic migration.
Of course, music absorbs a lot of what's happening at the time and gets onto the record store shelves, so back in those early days of recovery in the late 1940s and 1950s, there was a certain type of kayo kyoku coming out known as bokyo kayo（望郷歌謡）or, as perhaps retroactively labeled, bokyo enka（望郷演歌）, which refers to Japanese pop music at the time expressing the loneliness and yearning for hometown and family while toiling away in the big cities such as Tokyo or Osaka. And one of the founding pillars of enka, singer Michiya Mihashi（三橋美智也）, released a bokyo kayo in 1957 titled "Osage to Hana to Jizo-san to" (Pigtails and Flowers and Jizo Statues). Written by Jusaburo Tojo（東条寿三郎）and composed by Junichi Hosokawa（細川潤一）, Mihashi gives a tenderhearted story about a man who has been thinking about his family and home back in the countryside as he's working in the city, a place where he's been residing for the past three years. His memories include what's in the title: perhaps the pigtails on her sister's or girlfriend's head, the flowers outside and the jizo statues spiritually protecting the house.
Not surprisingly, the song hit a tender nerve within the country as it sold well over a million records. I can certainly hope that the protagonist in "Osage to Hana to Jizo-san to" was finally able to head back the ol' furusato for a visit at least. After all, there's no place like home. 🏡
I was listening to some of Michiya Mihashi's（三橋美智也）material a couple of days ago for some of that enka shibui-ness. But according to my fellow blog co-administrator and expert on the old Showa Era music, Noelle Tham, the term enka itself wasn't officially put into Japan's lexicon until 1970. Basically between the end of World War II and that year, enka had once been split apart into different subsets of kayo kyoku, including bokyo kayo（望郷歌謡...popular songs of homesickness）. With the nation's strenuous efforts to rise from the ashes on all levels, a lot of young people were heavily encouraged to move from the towns and villages to the big cities like Tokyo to do their part in the companies and factories to man the engines of their economy. Of course, the new generations working there could get homesick from time to time which got songwriters and singers to come up with the wistful ballads of the old hometown which would also get the workers even more homesick.
Well, the First Man of Enka (though he was probably given that title after 1970), Mihashi, came up with a huge hit in "Ringo Mura kara"（リンゴ村から）in 1956. The words and music were by Ryo Yano（矢野亮）and Isao Hayashi（林伊佐緒）respectively as the Hokkaido native sang nostalgically about the old apple orchard village up north. Then, the singer and songwriters were thinking whether lightning or apples could strike twice and so they collaborated once more on the 1957 "Ringo Hana Saku Furusato e" (To the Hometown of Apple Blossoms).
The song was on that recording of Mihashi that I have so I wanted to see if I could write about it, and with the YouTube video present, I could indeed do so. As with the earlier "Ringo Mura kara", "Ringo Hana Saku Furusato e" displays the melody as an old-fashioned wistful ditty of a wagon on an old dirt road while Mihashi sings of hearth and home among the apple trees. Perhaps listeners had a sense memory of the sweet scent of the apples.
Come to think of it, being the final day of September, I can imagine that the apple farms here in the province of Ontario are all very busy right now with the autumn harvest. I can no longer easily make it out to the orchards anymore, but it's nice remembering going there as a kid and having fresh apples, apple pie, apple cider and even apple strudel.
I was sorry to hear that singer-activist Harry Belafonte had passed away earlier today at the age of 96. His name and face were familiar to me when I was a child since I remember him appearing on a number of variety shows on American television. For that matter, he also used to show up on a number of those K-Tel record compilations.
The legendary Belafonte has had a long discography but of course, I will always know him for "Day-O (The Banana Boat Song)". I didn't know the song's origins as a Jamaican folk song which possibly go all the way back to the beginnings of the 20th century with it being covered by various artists over the years. However, it will always be the Belafonte cover that I know best when it was released in 1956 (it premiered several years before my time so it's not a ROY article).
"Day-O" had already reached immortal status by the late 1980s but it incurred further pop culture legend status when it was used in "Beetlejuice" in 1988. The Halloween-themed classic was filled with hilarious scenes so it says something when much of the cast was induced to sing and dance to Belafonte's trademark song to become the standout scene of the movie. Catherine O'Hara can make everyone laugh (and has shown to be an adept dancer as well on "SCTV") but I was stunned to see famed television interviewer Dick Cavett in on the joke, too.
All the way back in the 1950s and 1960s, it was common for Japanese singers to cover the hits from the West, and so was the case with "Day-O". Known as "Banana Boat" in Japan, it was released in March 1957 as sung by 19-year-old Michiko Hamamura（浜村美智子）from Kagoshima Prefecture as her debut single. The Belafonte version had lyrics written by Lord Burgess and William Attaway, but the one for Hamamura who sang it in both Japanese and English had the Japanese portion provided by Seiichi Ida（井田誠一）. Although other versions of the song were released at around the same time, the Hamamura cover was the one that had the most success by selling around 300,000 copies; she would appear on the Kohaku Utagassen that year to perform it. She even became known as either "The Banana Boat Girl" or "The Calypso Girl" because of "Day-O", although in her J-Wiki file, she admitted at one point that she really wasn't into calypso but was more of a jazz fan.
Hibari Misora（美空ひばり）also contributed her vocals to the song at least once. My condolences to Belafonte's family, friends and fans.
Fune ga tsuku hi ni sakaseta hana wo (A flower allowed to blossom on the day the ship docked)
Fune ga deru yoru chirasu kaze (A scattering wind on the night the ship leaves)
If I had 100 yen for every time these couple of lines ran through my head between September and December 2022, I'd probably be able to purchase at least 10 bromides. At least. I listened to their source so much that I ended up going from simply appreciating its presence to actually liking it, making it the first song I used for academic purposes to gain this accolade... That felt weird to say.
For posterity.
To give some context, my undergraduate thesis featured enka (of course, it did), and in it, I studied (or, at least, I attempted to study) how social inequality and class differences could’ve been perpetuated through the lyrics of popular enka songs from the Showa era. I set myself up to pick and study tunes (22 in total) that revolved around certain themes including poverty, blue-collar jobs, and an itinerant lifestyle. Since I stated “popular enka songs”, it’d be a crime if I left out the biggest star of that period and the Queen of Kayokyoku: Hibari Misora (美空ひばり). Sifting through her dozens of smash hits and skimming through their lyrics, I finally found the one that fit my criteria: “Minato Machi Jusan Banchi”. It’s an enka featuring the sailor life, it was one of her hits, I actually knew it - perfect. Honestly, that search gave me a bigger headache than I was expecting.
First released on 10th March 1957 and posthumously on 1st July 1991, “Minato Machi Jusan Banchi” was written by one of the songwriting power duos of the early Showa era, Miyuki Ishimoto (石本美由起) and Gento Uehara (上原げんと) - my impression is that a hatoba (wharf) or madorosu (sailor) tune by them likely turned out to be a banger. According to the J-Wiki, the Japan Record Association's magazine "THE RECORD", it was ranked as Colombia Record's (the company Misora belonged to) No.1 best-seller of the year in a rankings chart that featured the year's best-selling records per record company.
The original version. That plucky banjo really screams madorosu kayo.
On top of that, this well-loved sailor number became tangible to fans and train commuters when a whole entire train station was dedicated to it. As this Sponichi article from 2013 stated, the renewal of the Keikyu Daishi Line's almost century-old Minatocho station had been centred around “Minato Machi Jusan Banchi”. Now aptly nicknamed the "Hibari Eki" (Hibari station), it has the full works: At the South entrance sits its music plaque (her 8th song plaque nationwide) with a 148cm life-size model of the spunky singer and her to-scale handprint where you can also play one chorus's worth of the song to your heart's content; the station's jingle is the song; one of the platforms has its musical score with a cute illustration of a harbour view. It's every fan's dream. I'm more than inclined to agree with Hibari's son, Kazuya Kato (加藤和也), in saying that his mother would be amazed to see that this much thought had been put into representing a song she seemed to have personally enjoyed in the area so significant to her (she's a Kanagawa native).
The creation of "Minato Machi Jusan Banchi" was an interesting one too. For starters, it features the earlier mentioned industrial port town of Minatocho. This town was also where the Japan branch and record-making factory of Colombia Records were first established in 1910, and it was intended for its location on block 9 (kyubanchi) to be the song's setting. Ishimoto, however, decided to go with block 13 (jusan banchi) as it rolled off the tongue better. As a quintessential go-touchi song would, this jaunty romp into the Kawasaki-Yokohama area also included subtle nods to places like Yamashita Park and Bashamichi.
The jazzy twist in this recording (from the 70s?) makes it my favourite version.
Earlier this year, I decided to do a song plaque pilgrimage to the Minatocho station since, as talked about at the start, Hibari's cheery madorosu tune was quite a significant part of the biggest project I'd done thus far. Plus, it was comparatively nearer to my home base than others, so it'd only be natural to pay it a visit. While Hibari had been more of a figure I respected than truly loved, this and a later experience at her house-turned-museum in Tokyo's Meguro did cause quite a bit of a shift in that dynamic. It's hard to describe, but seeing her beaming right at me after the approximately 1.5-hour journey to Kawasaki and hearing "Minato Machi Jusan Banchi" right there and then, I felt accomplished (?)
(Sorry but the video has been taken down.)
"Minato Machi Jusan Banchi" had been covered by countless singers over the decades, but I thought it'd be nice to round off the article with a lovely collaboration between Hibari and Sabu-chan. Sabu-chan's rustic delivery really added that grassroots flavour to the tune.
I was watching a 1994 TBS variety series of a trio of tarento bicycling their way around the shitamachi area of Tokyo, and they encountered a couple of grizzled artisans in their 50s who specialized in creating obi for kimono. They accepted and lamented at the same time that they and their fellow comrades were slowly becoming extinct since machines were now able to create them much better and at a lower price although they felt that the human touch added that much-needed character. Now that it's almost thirty years later, I wonder what has become of them.
My feeling regarding the sendou（船頭）or Japanese boatmen is more guardedly optimistic. I can hardly imagine the day when robots will be rowing those old boats on the many rivers of Japan let alone seeing them pull off stunts like the one in the above video supplied by sshinozukajp. And I think that they've had a bigger presence in Japanese culture including within kayo kyoku. I've sometimes come across a few songs with sendou in the title.
Just recently, I found out about this one song titled "Sendou Kouta"(Boatman's Ballad) which was originally created in 1921 by lyricist Ujou Noguchi（野口雨情）and composer Shinpei Nakayama（中山晋平）under the title of "Kare Susuki"（枯れすすき...Withered Pampas） before being renamed the following year. Utako Nakayama（中山歌子）was the first singer to record "Sendou Kouta" in 1923, but unfortunately, I couldn't find any sign of her popular version online. However, I've noticed that the song has been covered by many singers since then, and it's even merited its own article on English Wikipedia.
From what I could discern of Noguchi's lyrics, "Sendou Kouta" seems to be a sad relating of a despairing boatman who may have lost his love and can now just do his job and little else. In 1957, the movie "Ujou Monogatari"（雨情物語...Rain Story） used the song as the theme with actor/singer Hisaya Morishige（森繫久彌）giving his version. The arrangement and Morishige's forlorn delivery can really punch a hole in the heart and I'm reminded a lot of Hibari Misora's（美空ひばり）"Kanashii Sake"（悲しい酒）which was released the following decade.
The first version of "Sendou Kouta" that I heard though was by Keiko Fuji（藤圭子）via her July 1971 5th album "Keiko no Jinsei Gekijo"（圭子の人生劇場...Keiko's Theatre of Life）. Her take has a bit more of an epicness to it and then about halfway through, the song suddenly veers more toward a jazzier Mood Kayo arrangement thanks to the introduction of a bluesy saxophone. With that version, I think that the setting goes from the lonely boatman all the way into a Shinjuku nightclub.
We had our share of heavy rain last week, and the only thing that I fretted about was whether one of our rooms would be getting flooded once more. That is of course a huge pain.
But according to singer Hachiro Kasuga（春日八郎）, his memories of downpours are far more romantic ones...and apparently very local. The title of his 1957 enka, "An Tokya Doshaburi" (There Was a Downpour Back Then), and the lyrics by Ryo Yano（矢野亮）seem to be done up in a dialect but I can't really pinpoint which one. Is it Edokko (Tokyo) or something from his home prefecture of Fukushima?
Whichever is the case, "An Tokya Doshaburi" is a mellow and slightly woozy enka tune with Kasuga's protagonist remembering back to some love, perhaps first sighted during a very rainy day or night. Maybe the lens of that memory is the bottom of a glass of beer or some other strong libation but along with composer Toshio Saeki's（佐伯としを）addition of the rain, comes a trombone to add a slightly tipsy element to the old kayo arrangement.
Not sure how the song did back then, but Kasuga did appear on the 1976 Kohaku Utagassen on New Year's Eve, his 18th out of 21 appearances on the special, to perform it.
Somewhere out there, Yujiro Ishihara（石原裕次郎）is welcoming his older brother, Shintaro, and proposing a drink together with Tetsuya Watari（渡哲也）.
When I woke up this morning, I found out that Shintaro Ishihara（石原慎太郎）, author and former governor of Tokyo (1999-2012), had passed away at the age of 89. He was indeed the guy in charge of the area where I worked for most of my second go-around as an English teacher, and it was interesting realizing that he acted like a taciturn and often cranky Showa Era father during the Heisei Era. To be honest, I wasn't a fan of his opinions on history and people outside of Japan, but feel free to take a look at his Wikipedia article from the link above.
But that's all I'll say here. In any case, let me segue to his younger brother, Yujiro Ishihara. I'm going back to his early years when he was the young tough guy, an archetype of the people that he and his police squads used to pursue in the 70s and 80s when he was Da Chief in shows like "Taiyo ni Hoero"（太陽にほえろ）.
"Sabita Knife" (Rusty Knife) was a 1958 movie that Ishihara starred in, and it's been described in its own Wikipedia article as a Japanese film noir in which he plays an ex-con out for revenge against the gang responsible for the rape and subsequent suicide of his girlfriend. There's one scene above shown in the montage which he had a hungry face of hate and glee, something that I'd never seen before as an expression since I have been so accustomed to his older face of wisdom and calm in character as a chief of detectives.
The theme song by Ishihara, also known as "Sabita Knife" was apparently released a bit earlier in August 1957, so it's possible that the movie was produced around this song. Written by Shiro Hagiwara（萩原四朗）and composed by Kenroku Uehara（上原賢六）, "Sabita Knife" has that familiar combination of muted horns and mournful saxophones with the crooning voice of The Tough Guy, and I guess that sound might be the go-to arrangement for these songs fit for Japanese film noir: that tough march which seems to have a perpetual hangdog expression as the protagonist goes through an arduous ordeal in the search for justice or vengeance.
The song comes in at No. 7 within Ishihara's top-selling singles according to J-Wiki's list as it sold 1.75 million records.
Noelle Tham wrote up the original article on Haruo Minami's（三波春夫）grand "Yuki no Wataridori" but after having listened to Hiroshi Itsuki's（五木ひろし）fine cover of the song recently, I thought that I would also give my two (officially non-existent) Canadian pennies as a follow-up. Moreover, it's now been over 20 years since the beatific presence of Minami left the stage and this mortal coil (July 19, 1923~April 14, 2001), and I have to face the fact that I still miss him whenever New Year's Eve and the annual Kohaku Utagassen appear.
"Yuki no Wataridori" was one of Minami's earliest songs recorded for sale back in 1957 and the other information on the songwriting can be found in Noelle's article. She also talked about what the title is all about and I can say that it can be literally translated as "Migratory Birds in the Snow" but folks might interpret that title as something belonging to a "National Geographic" feature. Wataridori can also colloquially refer to those warriors of the past who can never stay in one place for too long for various reasons such as emotional pain or personal safety. Basically, I think it's all about the masterless samurai or ronin who have to trudge their way throughout all of the seasons including the harsh winter, and what better scene to show the hard life of a ronin than one in which he has to somehow navigate through biting winds and knee-deep snow?
Perhaps what I can add to the narrative that Noelle started is the gusto that Minami added to the vocals for "Yuki no Wataridori" and the proud arrangement that always accompanies the melody by Akira Mutsu (陸奥明). It may seem a bit counter-intuitive to have something sounding this proud for the story of a warrior who has to fight enemies meteorological and human but this isn't anything new for enka and it just goes to show how the display of suffering by one person to reach a goal is apparently greatly appraised by the Japanese. Then, I'd say that it's not surprising that Minami got to perform "Yuki no Wataridori" twice in his many appearances on NHK's Kohaku Utagassen, the first time being his very first time on the program back in 1958 and then in 1979 for his 22nd appearance.
Noelle also mentioned that Hiroshi Itsuki among other enka singers did a cover of "Yuki no Wataridori", and of course has performed it on TV and elsewhere as I stated up above, but his CD version was released in June 2001 according to Tower Records Japan. Itsuki's version doesn't have quite the power that Minami brought to it, but his fans have probably not balked at his take on this tribute to the warrior.
A few days ago, I came up with some suggestions for those folks who were curious about what the traditional Japanese music genre of enka was all about with the male and female singers. Well, tonight, I offer the curious another genre in the Tokyo House Party series: Mood Kayo...the bar/nightclub genre as I identified it on the show back on February 27th.
According to J-Wiki, Mood Kayo supposedly originated from the late 1950s from musical interactions among native entertainers and members of the Occupation forces (mainly American forces), gradually moving to the nightclubs in the entertainment districts of the big cities such as Ginza and Akasaka in Tokyo. The dance music with its Latin, jazz and Hawaiian influences was observed to have generated a certain mood in those establishments thus the music gaining its genre name.
Mood Kayo was often but not always characterized by male groups with a lead vocalist and perhaps a backing chorus of three or four men. But there were also solo artists consisting of both men and women, notably with some pretty smoky voices. Moreover, another trait of the genre was that song titles frequently pinpointed a certain geographically famous area such as the aforementioned Ginza and Akasaka.
Of course, as I've said all along for this series, there are plenty of other examples from this genre that I couldn't get on here, and that includes a number of enka singers who have also dabbled into Mood Kayo from time to time.
