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.
Commenter YMOfan04 had a brief exchange on an actress-singer that I hadn't covered in several years, Kyoko Yoshizawa（吉沢京子）. And that was enough for me to take a look at my friend's suggestion.
It just so happens that her "Ame Agari no Koi"(Love After the Rain) was the B-side to her August 1970 sophomore single"Suttobe Seishun"（すっ跳べ青春）which was my first article on the Tokyo native. While the A-side is a pretty intrepid kayo march, "Ame Agari no Koi" not surprisingly takes the opposite tack of being a lovelorn ballad supported by that popular combination of flute and violins. Written by Tokiko Iwatani（岩谷時子）, composed by Taro Morimoto（森本太郎）and arranged by Makoto Kawaguchi（川口真）, it's about as sighworthy as one can get for a lass going through the falling-in-love blues.
Y'know...I should have posted this one up right on New Year's Day almost a month ago, but then again, I was rather busy with family stuff on January 1st. But I digress. This year is once again the Year of the Horse; people who were born in that year are supposedly responsible, confident and agreeable.
As such, I'm not sure whether I can find any kayo kyoku that are responsible, confident and agreeable, but at least I can find some songs that have some sort of relationship to horses.
I realize that this last one may not have anything directly to do with horses, but dang it, the rhythms here just remind me so much of taking a running ride on a steed through the countryside!
I was a little surprised on Sunday that there was an episode of "Shin BS Nihon no Uta"（新BS日本の歌）on Jme since it's the Holidays. I'd assumed that the program was going on New Year's hiatus, but as it turned out, they had one more in them to get out before the New Year which is fine for my parents especially.
A Los Primos song was covered in that last episode which had me thinking. The Mood Kayo group really loved their go-touchi（ご当地）songs especially with the term "blues" in the title. There have been "Ginza Blues"（銀座ブルース）, "Niigata Blues"（新潟ブルース）and "Asahikawa Blues"（旭川ブルース）, and that's for starters. How many more do they have?
Well, as it turns out, Akira Kurosawa & Los Primos（黒沢明とロス・プリモス）did release their 17th single in February 1970 titled "Yoru no Blues"(Night Blues). Yes, no geographical reference point here...at least not in the title. But as it turns out, those Los Primos guys pulled off a three-in-one. That's right. The three verses in "Yoru no Blues" stake claims to Yokohama, Kobe and Nagasaki, all major port cities in Japan. And it looks like the guys in those verses just can't seem to make the best of their opportunities, but dang, isn't it all very atmospheric, just like any Mood Kayo song should be?
Written by Kyosuke Kuni（久仁京介）and composed by Masakazu Mizushima（水島正和）, it feels like a fairly lighthearted tune for a Mood Kayo although there is the classic posture of Shoji Mori（森聖二）as the main vocalist at the time while the others were on instruments and haunting chorus, even with some languid scatting. The only thing that struck me was hearing the mellow horns provide the final harmonized note instead of the voices of Los Primos themselves.
We're starting off this business week on "Kayo Kyoku Plus" with a twofer. As a lot of the kayo kyoku vets know, Shigeru Matsuzaki（松崎しげる）is most famous for his "Ai no Memory"（愛のメモリー）, a single released in August 1977 which became a huge hit.
Until then though, he'd had some very lean years with him and his manager getting doors slammed on them. But on hearing the May 1977 single immediately before the successful "Ai no Memory", I'm hoping that folks have had a change of heart in his earlier works. "Yuuhi no Uta" (Song of the Setting Sun), which was his 13th single, is a lovely little ballad if perhaps a bit on the Kleenex-friendly sentimental side given further heft by Matsuzaki's tender vocals. Along with Shunichi Tokura's（都倉俊一） old-fashioned folksy melody and arrangement are Makoto Kitajo's（喜多条忠）lyrics. It sounds like something that I would have heard on a K-Tel compilation of American pop balladry. I have to say that the young Matsuzaki on the single cover looks like the world's most casually-dressed Secret Service agent.
And speaking of him on the cover, Matsuzaki looks like a veritable kid posing for his high school photo on his very first single as a solo artist. Yes, just to take a little tangent here, back in his days at the Nihon University College of Art, he'd been with Tomiaki "Tommy" Hidaka（日高富明）and Mamoru "Mark" Horiuchi（堀内護）in a short-lived band called Milk or Hot Milk (Tommy and Milk would end up with the band GARO in the 1970s). Famous singer-songwriter Ryudo Uzaki（宇崎竜童）had been a manager at Ohashi Productions who would scout young Matsuzaki during his time with Milk.
Getting back on track, that very first single was "Hassen-Nana-Hyaku-Roku-Jukkai no I Love You" (I Love You 8,760 Times) released in October 1970. Written by Yu Aku（阿久悠）and composed by Kunihiko Suzuki（鈴木邦彦）, it stands out for being a regular kayo kyoku compared to his later stuff which sounds more in the New Music vein of things, and of course, his vocals don't sound like the familiar resonant and slightly raspy tones that we've become accustomed to. As for the rather convoluted number in the title, it stands for the number of hours in a year. Mind you, after having "I Love You" said to that special someone once an hour every hour for an entire year, I'm not sure if that someone will want to reciprocate anymore.
Another sign that autumn in Toronto is just around the corner: the annual Toronto International Film Festival. Depending on the weather, and they are saying that thunderstorms might be welcoming the stars, cinephiles and media, the first day of TIFF tomorrow may be a very soggy one which is too bad but the second day sounds far more promising. But I'm sure that the autograph hounds will still be out in force, rain or shine.
Under the circumstances, maybe I can put up a list of some of the songs that I heard on the big screen throughout my life.
(1970) Kiyoshi Atsumi -- Otoko wa Tsurai yo (男はつらいよ）from "Otoko wa Tsurai yo"
(1972) Mari Amachi -- Hitori Janaino (ひとりじゃないの）from "Aitte Nandaro?"（愛ってなんだろ）
(1997) Yuji Oda & Maxi Priest -- Love Somebody from "Odoru Dai Sosasen"（踊る大捜査線）
(1997) Akihiko Matsumoto -- Rhythm & Police from "Odoru Dai Sosasen"（踊る大捜査線）
It's Monday once more on KKP and therefore I'd like to get some weird stuff off my chest. When I remember a very young Shinichi Mori（森進一）decades ago, I internally remarked that this enka singer basically looked like a Japanese Pavel Chekov from "Star Trek"; as if the USS Enterprise's beloved Russian had been merged in a transporter accident with his fellow bridge officer, Hikaru Sulu. Mori had that short stature, the pinchable cheeks and those adorable brown eyes. Not sure if he was quite as voluble as young Pavel, though.
Anyways, I found this No. 1 hit by Mori from Christmas Day 1970 titled "Bokyo" (Homesickness). It's one of the first enka songs to reach the top spot in the Oricon era (started in 1967 or 1968) although the melody and arrangement by Kosho Inomata（猪俣公章）has me also thinking of drowning one's tears in drink in a watering hole just like in any Mood Kayo tune (the sax helps). Jun Hashimoto's（橋本淳）lyrics talk of someone dearly missing the hometown and also that significant other left behind there. His gravelly voice sounds almost on the verge of tears. And if we're talking about sound effects, the sound of a train and the mournful woman's chorus really help with the homesick punch.
Most likely, there were a lot of people in the big cities of Japan who could relate which would explain its popularity. Over a year later, Mori's 18th single actually became the 9th-ranked single for 1971. Interestingly enough, a movie based on "Bokyo" would be produced in 1971 starring the singer himself as Shinichiro Morikawa（森川信一郎）. Not exactly the biggest leap in imagination when it comes to naming characters, but I hope it did well.
Having hung around staunch Hachiro Kasuga (春日八郎) fans and overheard opinions from Michiya Mihashi (三橋美智也) fans, it seems that while there are folks who embrace both of the twin pillars of King Records' golden era (1950s) equally, there are others who are quite clearly either Team Hachi or Team Michi for one reason or the other. I don't know how clean this division actually is, or how intense the fan rivalry is. The current Hachi and Michi posthumous fan clubs often collaborate in this era where early Showa artists are fading into obscurity and dwindling membership. So, on an official fan club level, at least, it's fairly harmonious. But I wonder if that wasn't necessarily the case in between the 1950s and 1990s. What if it was like the classic Hiroshi Itsuki (五木ひろし) and Shinichi Mori (森進一) fan rivalry? Now, that one was intense.
As you may have known by now, I am Team Hachi. But with the added nuance that I still enjoy Michi stuff on occasion and acknowledge that the min'yo star has strengths that my Hachi lacks. Recently, I've picked up a Michi biography literally titled Mihashi Michiya (2015) by Michi scholar Hiroshi Ogino (荻野広). Admittedly, my main prerogative for doing so was research, but I figured that it was high time I set aside my biases and learn more about the man who was closely associated with Hachi. After all, before Hachiro Kasuga stole the show, I was mesmerized with Michiya Mihashi.
I say "biography", but half of Ogino's piece may as well have been a research paper with its fairly in-depth Michi song analysis. To understand Michi's success, Ogino did a lyric comparison between Michi's tunes and hit Showa kayo against the backdrop of Showa era history. I love stuff like this, so it was an insightful read. He featured both the min'yo man's greatest hits and shone the spotlight on countless gems buried by the sands of time, giving them the attention they deserve or at least an acknowledgement of their existence. As someone who tried doing this in her Hachi thesis, I can only say that Ogino must care greatly for Michi. Ogino also provided Michi's full discography as an appendix, which I happily scanned through and investigated entries that piqued my interest, of which there were several.
I completely forgot that Michi's disco phase (late 1970s) churned out the disco version of Tassha de na (達者でナ), renamed Bye Bye Horse; I didn't know he had something that may as well have been a theme song to a cowboy flick, Tokyo no Hato (東京の鳩... Tokyo Pigeon/Dove), or had an ominously moody tune that began with a pained, "BAKAYAROOOOOO" (Ganpeki no Otoko (岸壁の男)... Man by the Cliff). I always make it a point to say that Hachi was a singer who could sing anything, but I failed to realise that Michi was actually not that different in this respect. My apologies, Michi. Considering how Mihashi's stylistic range was far wider than I had once thought, though, a rock kayo shouldn't have surprised me, yet Cho-cho to Kakashi (The Scarecrow and the Butterfly) had me raising my eyebrows.
Cho-cho to Kakashi was released on March 1970 as the B-side to Kimi Yobu Machi (君呼ぶ街). Its lyrics were written by Hiroshi Nagai (永井ひろし), and was composed by Tadaharu Nakano (中野忠晴) ... ... ... ... Okay, you caught me - this was the reason I looked up this song. But, you see, Nakano had passed away in February that year, so this makes this tune the last piece Nakano wrote for Michi, released posthumously (so, of course I'd want to hear it). Mr. Nakano composed way more for Michi than Hachi - over 40 Michi entries, as opposed to about 20 Hachi ones. The few I've heard up till then (the hits) sounded "Michi-like", wherein despite Nakano's main arranger Masao Ueno's (上野正雄) funky arrangements, they still felt like they followed Michi's min'yo vocal contours fairly closely. Therefore, that's what I expected with Cho-cho to Kakashi.
To me, just the title itself seemed to suggest that it could be a more traditional Japanese-sounding piece - it even had me in the first couple of seconds with the hyoshigi (wooden clappers), something I'd hear in kabuki-themed tunes. Instead, Nakano made a fun rock-inspired melody, the metallic twang of the electric guitars strumming to the brisk beat of hollow bongos has echoes of the ereki and GS booms of the mid-to-late 1960s. It feels kinda Beach Boys-esque (I think?), and for some reason, also reminiscent of those quirky anime openings from the late 2000s. Michi sang it in such a breezy manner that I couldn't imagine anyone else singing it.
Now, what is Michi singing about in Cho-cho to Kakashi? Nagai's narrative introduces the titular butterfly and scarecrow. The butterfly has took off to the city... by train. The scarecrow wants to follow, but is stuck (in the fields), having but one leg. And so, it can only stand by its lonesome near the train station. Days go by, and it eventually grows weary and despondent with no sound or sight of the butterfly, but continues to wait. I think it's safe to say that Nagai's scarecrow is an allegory for a countryside folk who, for one reason or another, is unable to follow their beloved, the butterfly, who left for the city for one reason or another. A classic example of the bokyo kayo variant, a zanryu mono, to borrow bokyo kayo researcher Hidetada Fuji's (藤井淑禎) terminology.
Meaning songs of those "left behind", zanryu mono focus on the family, lovers, friends, etc. of those who left the countryside for the cities for work during the postwar mass employment movement (approx. 1954-1973). Usually depicted are their pining for those who'd left, hoping they'd soon return, or bitter because they had left. This (sub)genre experienced peak popularity in the late 1950s when urban migration was going strong and aforementioned scenes were commonplace. Michi seemed to have been best known for these zanryu mono type stuff, sometimes called furusatomono/kayo. Oddly enough, Hachi was known best for the reverse, shukkyo mono (songs of those who left).
While this work-induced urban migration slowed by the 1970s (due to several reasons including factories opening plants in the countryside), it still occurred. By this point, it was usually farmers from Tohoku who temporarily left their homes during winter to eek out a living since agriculture was not an option with heavy snowfall. Also, I'm fairly sure there were an even greater number of youngsters who wanted to escape to the glamourous cities. So, I can see why the bokyo kayo themes from days of yore still pop up at this time. Also, there's the whole "bokyo kayo is a main strand of enka" thing which gained great traction in the 70s, which may have enabled something like Cho-cho to Kakashi to still be produced in the 70s.
I'm glad I read Ogino's Michi biography. Hachi will always still be the superior one in my heart, but my appreciation for Michi has grown tremendously after the read. I think I'm finally ready for that trip to Hakodate.
P.S. Just so you know, Tokyo no Hato and Ganpeki no Otoko were also Nakano compositions. Yes, I was sifting through the Michi discography for everything Nakano-related. It's most effective way to get me to listen to stuff I ordinarily wouldn't listen to, okay!
Welcome to the first full week of May 2025 at "Kayo Kyoku Plus". It's comfortably cool outside here in Toronto and I didn't need to wear a jacket so perhaps spring is here to say. I am knocking on wood as I write this, however. As well, Japan is spending its last two days of Golden Week.
Found this one via a recent episode of "Uta Con"（うたコン）during their new segment of going through the time vault by year. For that segment, the target was 1970 and an early Johnny's Entertainmentaidoru group Four Leaves（フォーリーブス）got its first appearance on NHK's Kohaku Utagassen at the end of the year.
"Ashita ga Umareru" can be directly translated as "Tomorrow will be Born" but according to the bottom-left cover of the single, it's been stated as "Our Tomorrow". In any case, this was Four Leaves'8th single from July 1970 and as I mentioned above, this was the song performed by the guys in their first of seven appearances on the New Year's Eve special. Written by Shigeo Sanpei（三瓶茂夫）and composed by Tomohiro Kajisawa（梶沢知弘）, it's a pretty rousing tune with the familiar groovy arrangement of blasting horns, racing guitars and thundering drums of those days. Lyrically, it's about a man reaching adulthood and realizing his very mixed emotions about a perhaps former flame doing the same while remembering that one time when they were alone in that lodge in the woods. I gather that they weren't playing shogi.😘
Unfortunately, I couldn't find that Kohaku footage of Four Leaves, but I was able to find a plethora of concert scenes in the above video. "Ashita ga Umareru" scored a No. 23 ranking on Oricon.
During most episodes of the NHK morning information show "Asaichi"（あさイチ）, one of the final segments is the cooking one where some chef comes in to whip up something delicious for the hosts and guests. Yesterday was a little different though because this time around, someone came in to introduce the Finnish game of Mölkky. It was apparently introduced in 1996 and has become quite popular in various parts of the world including Japan, and it appears like a combination of lawn bowling and billiards. From what I've seen of the guys on "Asaichi" plying their hands to the game, it looks like an activity that even I could do without making too much of a fool out of myself. The above video is a Japanese explanation while the one below is in English.
Well, yesterday, when I was watching the other NHK program of "Uta Con"（うたコン）and their tribute to the Osaka Expo, Osaka kayoand even the year of 1970 in terms of music, the hosts presented some of the music that debuted in that year. And indeed, there was one song that got onto that year's Kohaku Utagassen special as sung by the Queen of Kayo Kyoku herself, Hibari Misora（美空ひばり）.
And guess what? It also has something to do with a game. Misora released her July 1970 single"Jinsei Shogi"(Shogi of Life) as a most cordial parable of life as a game of shogi with each move representing an action influencing something good or bad in life. Written by Miyuki Ishimoto（石本美由起）and composed by Tetsuya Kato（かとう哲也）, there seems to be a pleasantly rustic feeling to the song as if this grand game was being played out in the countryside while Misora takes a somewhat sage and perhaps even sneaky approach on the vocals as if she were Yoda training Luke Skywalker. Compare this kayo with another earlier and more famous Misora single, "Yawara"（柔）, which likens life to a round of judo.
"Jinsei Shogi" wasn't a huge hit for Misora, only reaching No. 70 on Oricon and selling around 19,000 records.
Last Sunday, I put up an article titled "Japanese Pop Songs: Female Names", celebrating the fact that kayo kyoku and J-Pop shared a tendency with Western pop music in coming up with songs named after women. Well, men's names have been used on both sides of the Pacific to title certain ditties over the decades, too. Although I couldn't find a whole bunch of male names for songs, I did find some more female names fronting those tunes so here is my additional list of female and male names.
Back when I was into kaiju and dinosaurs decades ago, I was a rather unhappy camper because I wasn't able to see the complete version of "Destroy All Monsters" (1968). It was broadcast on one of the local channels on Saturday night, and I figure it was probably because my father just had to see "Hockey Night In Canada". The pouting disappeared in pretty short order though and the 1970s, 1980s and so on passed by without incident.
Well, last night, I finally got to see the grand Battle Royale or the "Avengers: Endgame" version of all those Toho monsters including Godzilla go into the ultimate knock-down-drag-out against King Ghidorah. Of course, watching this over half a century later meant that the kiddy glee and bouncing about had long been eliminated from my system but it was still fun to see the gang fight it out with even Minilla tying the final bow on this present. And may I say, although I barely know anything about Gorosaurus, that was one nasty drop-kick he landed on the King. You go, Gorosaurus!👍
All that though got me thinking about Daiei Film's own cute monster, Gamera, every Japanese child's favourite gigantic turtle. Now here was a kaiju who was so beloved and famous that he could earn a couple of songs on his behalf in the 1960s: "Gamera no Uta"（ガメラの歌）and "Gamera March"(ガメラマーチ).
I had been wondering if his fame got him another song, and sure enough, it didn't take long before I found "Bokura no Gamera" (Our Gamera) which was used on the big lug's 6th entry "Gamera vs. Jiger"（ガメラ対大魔獣ジャイガー）in March 1970. Both it and "Gamera March" were featured so I guess Daiei was following the James Bond formula of having the original overall theme along with the official theme song of the movie.
Although the same duo behind the proud military "Gamera March", lyricist Hidemasa Nagata（永田秀雄）and composer Kenjiro Hirose（廣瀬健次郎）, was behind "Bokura no Gamera", the song itself was styled more along the Club Tropicana Latin of "Gamera no Uta". Cocktails for Gamera! Mind you, the song was sung by the Daiei Jidou Gasshodan（大映児童合唱団...The Daiei Children's Chorus） so definitely no cocktails for them. The chorus also sang "Gamera March" and I found out via the director for one of the movies that unlike some of the other kids' choruses that had been popular back in the day, there was nothing official about the Daiei Jidou Gasshodan, they were just some kids wrangled together from the neighbourhood and brought together behind the mike. Maybe they got some free passes to "Gamera vs. Jiger" or they were given Gamera figures to play with.
Well, as Kayo Grace and Mr. Calico are showing up above, "Kayo Kyoku Plus" is celebrating its 13th birthday today, so I gather that the blog might be showing signs of teenage rebelliousness in the years to come. As was the case last year, I've opted to show off any other Japanese singers who are celebrating their birthday on January 30th, too.
(1948) Sumio Akutagawa of Toi et Moi -- Dare mo Inai Umi (誰もいない海）
I only found out about this group through a tweet mourning the passing of one of its members. Unfortunately, I don't remember which one but the Tokyo Happy Coats（トーキョー・ハッピー・コーツ）apparently was a sister act of the Hakomori family consisting of Eiko, Keiko, Shouko, Tomiko and Ruriko. Trying to look them up online, a number of the articles on these ladies state first and foremost that there isn't a whole lot of information on them although writers such as Sayo Sakamoto（坂元小夜）do their level best.
And in fact, the writing has it that the Tokyo Happy Coats weren't all that well known in Japan, mostly becoming famous throughout the United States through concert tours and perhaps the odd TV appearance such as on "The Ed Sullivan Show". Their time was in the late 1960s going into the early 1970s at least as they covered the hits including jazz tunes and even the old kayo kyoku in English.
One song that I found on YouTube that got my memory engrams buzzing immediately was "Forevermore" from 1970. The reason was that it is a cover of Yuzo Kayama's（加山雄三）evergreen "Kimi to Itsumademo"（君といつまでも）from 1965 as done as a gentle guitar ballad with plenty of heartful harmonies.
About a week ago, I heard that veteran Canadian actor Donald Sutherland, born in New Brunswick and trained at the University of Toronto, passed away last week at the age of 88. I've known him for his huge presence, that wide-as-a-mile Cheshire Cat grin and that distinct voice which reminded me of a slow-burning crackling fire.
I remember seeing him as the youngest member of "The Dirty Dozen" and then as one of the many doomed characters on the 1978 remake of "Invasion of the Body Snatchers". Of course, in recent years, Sutherland gained a new generation of fans for his portrayal of President Snow in "The Hunger Games" franchise. Still one other cackling evil role he had that still pops up in my memories whenever the actor's name is mentioned is the one for homicidal pyromaniac Ronald Bartel in "Backdraft": child-like and axe-crazy.
One other movie that I associate Sutherland with is the original movie version of the war comedy "M*A*S*H". For years and years, I had been accustomed to watching the CBS adaptation on TV on Monday nights and then reruns with Alan Alda as the snarky surgeon Captain Hawkeye Pierce and his buddies. At the time, I'd only remembered that there had been a movie version with the famous poster of a peace sign-giving hand under an army helmet and over a couple of woman's legs.
Then, I finally got to see the 1970 movie by Robert Altman on telly one night and got to see Sutherland's original take on Hawkeye. It was a bit weird seeing not only these familiar roles such as Pierce, Trapper John, Frank Burns, Father Mulcahy and Hot Lips being played by different thespians (although always-dependable Radar O'Reilly was played by Gary Burghoff in both the movie and television show) but getting this very rough-and-ready version of the M*A*S*H 4077. If anything, Sutherland's Hawkeye was even more flippant with a sense of a slithery demeanor, and it's far better having him as your friend and not your enemy.
Though the TV show gradually changed from a sitcom with dramatic elements to a drama with comedic elements through its eleven seasons (with the cast changes, to boot), the one thing that basically stayed constant (other than a few scenes here and there) was the opening credits with the famous instrumental theme song. I would always see the choppers bringing patients into the 4077, the overhead shot of the hospital, and the doctors and nurses rushing to triage them and have them go through the best of their meatball surgery. Meanwhile, the theme song was about as far from being a brass march that one could get for a show based in the middle of the Korean War.
But then when I did watch the original movie, I was surprised to find out that the theme song actually had a title, "Suicide is Painless" and lyrics that were sung by an uncredited foursome: John Bahler, Tom Bahler, Ron Hicklin, and Ian Freebairn-Smith. With harmonies reminiscent of the Beach Boys and a wistful and slightly mournful melody by Johnny Mandel and Mike Altman, I realized that the theme back then was a hymn of sorts for the futility of war and the price paid in body counts, something that didn't quite translate to the weekly instrumental version in the TV series, especially when it was given the cheery arrangement during the ending credits.
Interestingly, "Suicide is Painless" was also released in Japan as a single with the title "Moshi mo, Ano Yo ni Yuketara"（もしも、あの世にゆけたら...If I Could Go to the Afterlife） in March 1970, just a couple of months following the movie's release. As for my even more personal connection to the song, our junior high school band regularly performed the song during concerts. It was getting to the point that "Suicide is Painless" was actually painful.
My condolences to Sutherland's family, friends and many fans.
Now, what had won the Best Performance prizes at the Japan Record Awards in 1970?
It was back in September 2013 when KKP friend and writer JTM provided one of his many great articles on the old Japanese television shows with the program of note being "Playgirl"（プレイガール）. Lasting between 1969 and 1976, I gather that this could be compared to America's"Charlie's Angels", which premiered on ABC in 1976. "Playgirl" had a much larger main cast though, with full female teams changing throughout the run of the series.
One of the cast members that JTM mentioned in one paragraph was singer and actress Reiko Ohshida（大信田礼子）who joined "Playgirl" as one of the second wave of female crimefighters skilled in all sorts of martial arts and other hobbies. According to the video introduction above, her character of Reiko Ohta（太田礼子）wasn't shy in describing herself either.
The Kyoto-born Ohshida also did her fair share of pink films (soft porn) for which her Wikipedia file states that she didn't have to take her clothes in any of them. She also had a brief recording career between 1970 and 1973 in which she released seven singles and four albums. Single No. 1 was "Onna no Gakko" (Girls' School) which came out in August 1970.
Written by Rei Nakanishi（なかにし礼）and composed by Kunihiko Suzuki（鈴木邦彦）, the short-but-sweet tune has Ohshida singing in a breathy and kitten-ish way against an arrangement that's a mix of kayo soul and a snake charmer's song (reinforced by some of that bluesy sax). Nakanishi laid down a story of a supposedly irresistible woman telling off any and all suitors since she will only give her love to the one that she truly loves.
Glad to see that NHK's "Shin Nihon BS no Uta"（新日本BSの歌...Songs of Japanese Spirit）kayo kyoku program is returning to a more convenient hour for the first time since the new Jme regime began on April 1st. It should be coming on within an hour of this writing. Speaking of the program, I saw an old rerun of it a few weeks ago in which enka veteran Sachiko Kobayashi（小林幸子）sang this rather melancholy yet beautifully arranged kayo that I hadn't heard before.
The song's title, "Kibou"(Hope), was easy enough to remember. It seemed a bit outside of what Kobayashi usually has sung so I did assume that the original version had been sung by another singer. Sure enough, it turns out that "Kibou" had been created by composer Taku Izumi（いずみたく）and lyricist Toshio Fujita（藤田敏雄）in the late 1960s for a musical starring actress/singer Chieko Baisho（倍書千恵子）. The song seems to have had an overarching presence in the play which would have had it going for around 6 1/2 minutes so its adaptation into a single back in those days was impossible. Folk group Four Saints（フォー・セインツ）did record a 1969 single of it in the 4-minute range, though, which scored a No. 26 ranking.
However, the most acclaimed version of "Kibou" seems to have been the one by Yoko Kishi（岸洋子）when it was released in April 1970. Arranged by Makoto Kawaguchi（川口真）, the ballad here is a mix of sad kayo and chanson as Kishi sings about a woman who ends up leaving not only her town but what turned out to be the love of her life and has regretted it ever since. Whether or not she's successful, she clings onto that titular hope that she will meet her former flame and make up for lost time. The above "Big Show" performance from 1974 is stressing the more chanson elements.
The story in the lyrics aside, I think Kishi's version of the song has probably had even more meaning for her and her fans. Yes, it did score a No. 2 ranking on Oricon and ended up as the No. 12 song of the year, selling more half a million records and earning her a performance award at the Japan Record Awards at the end of 1970. At the same time, though, she'd also been hospitalized due to a serious disease and so what probably had been a sure appearance on NHK's Kohaku Utagassen had to be cancelled. The hope this time was for Kishi to recover and happily she did recover so that she was able to appear on the 1971 Kohaku which would be her final appearance on the program, after a total of seven such appearances.
The above is the folksier earlier version of "Kibou" by Four Saints.
I only read it on the Yahoo Japan news blotter last night just as I was about to call it a night, but unfortunately singer and actor Mitsuo Sagawa（佐川満男）passed away on April 12th at the age of 84 due to a disease called cholecystitis.
Sagawa's career as a singer began in 1960 with his debut single"Futari no Namikimichi"（二人の並木道...A Boulevard for Us） but perhaps his most defining song came several years later with "Ima wa Shiawase kai"（今は幸せかい）from 1968. Songwriter Taiji Nakamura（中村泰士）, who passed away in 2020, had provided words and music for Sagawa's big hit, and he also composed this October 1970 single, "Wakare no Toki ga Kita" (The Time Has Come to Say Goodbye) with Yu Aku（阿久悠）as the lyricist.
Beginning with this near-Bacharach pop melody, "Wakare no Toki ga Kita" then blends into a languid and satisfied soul kayo. I couldn't find the lyrics online but I'm hoping that the song itself is about the ending of a happy date and not a permanent end to a relationship. Of course, with last night's news, the song title will now take on an even more poignant presence. My condolences to Sagawa's family, friends and fans and especially to singer Yukari Ito（伊東ゆかり）who had once been married to him.
Disclaimer: Because this is an extremely well-known song internationally with many covers in various languages, I have chosen to only feature the versions from the Showa teens by Japanese* ryukoka singers to narrow the article’s scope. Also, I'll use the Chinese and Japanese titles relatively interchangeably, but will mainly refer to it in Japanese, unless I'm talking about the Mandarin version.
Oh, boy, “Heri Jun Zailai”, or “Hōrī Jun Zairai” (its Japanese pronunciation). It takes me way back to my formative years. I was always told about how its title was a seed of controversy during the 2nd Sino-Japanese War because of how the character 君, meaning something like “young gentleman” sounds the same as 军/軍, meaning “soldier”. Put 日 and 军 together and you get “Japanese Soldier”. The rest of the title translates to “When will ___ return?” You see why it was/is a spicy subject? Yet, from what I’ve briefly read recently, it was a sentimental love song originally written by Chinese songwriters (Bei Lin and Yen Lu) for a Chinese audience in Shanghai without this twisted meaning.
Anyways, as an empty-brained child far-removed from the terrors of history, the title controversy was just a tidbit of song trivia from Mom. In hindsight, I wonder if that trivia did unwittingly stain the song in my mind unconsciously. Still, I also never really thought to listen to “Heri Jun Zailai” even though I had an inkling about its vast popularity. I, however, have this very, very vague memory that I may have checked out Aska from Chage and Aska’s version. My impression was that it was a slow ballad and I wasn’t too into it. And so this impression stuck for over a decade. I only reconnected with the tune just last year when reading "Songs of the Empire: Continental Asia in Japanese Wartime Popular Music" (2003), a dissertation by Edgar Pope on Tairiku songs/Tairiku mono (大陸もの)/China Melody, and Chinese exoticism in Japanese pop music during the early 20th century. For context, Tairiku mono was a term used for kayo featuring mainly the theme of China from around the late 1930s to the early 1940s. Pope mentioned that it eventually came to include other parts of Southeast Asia when Imperial Japan moved down into the region. However, I think it’s generally understood that Tairiku mono equals China-themed kayo.
Same, Akira-san From "松平晃、ミス・コロムビアらが参加した、 コロムビア芸術団の慰問風景を収めた貴重映像！"
I have a strange affinity for Tairiku mono, hence my excitement in reading a full-blown dissertation on the topic. My grandfather, however, would probably give me the stink eye because, as Pope very clearly showed in some songs, many of them were pieces of exoticism that were produced as a result of Imperial Japan's further encroachment into the Chinese continent. Some of them were meant to enchant/convince Japanese listeners about the potentials of the new lands and contained a truckload of (racist) stereotypes. That’s not to say that there weren’t songwriters who wrote Tairiku mono because they were truly impressed by the culture and hoped to actually bridge the gap between China and Japan via music, though. Many were made to fit current events and were a likely way to ensure safe passage through the censors. I think many of these Tairiku mono are wonderful songs as they are, so it is regrettable that they have a dark history attached to them.
But, tangent aside, when you talk about popular “Chinese” songs in Japan at the time, one can’t do without “Hōrī Jun Zairai”. What I most vividly remember reading in Pope's was him describing the melody as having a tango flavour. Another thing about me is that I really enjoy kayo/ryukoka that are tango-inspired (tango-cho). Its snappy rhythm often giving a more dramatic flair and romantic atmosphere to the song. Combined that with a Tairiku mono? *Cue Takehei Hayashiya (林家たけへい)* Tamaranai. I mean, one of my favourite songs is literally called “China Tango”. So, learning that prewar “Hōrī Jun Zairai” was of tango-cho piqued my interest greatly and shattered the impression of it being a slow ballad.
Ohama-san's version
Since I was reading about Tairiku mono, I figured I go with the Japanese version for Japanese audiences. The version I first picked to (re)listen to “Hōrī Jun Zairai” was the version from none other than the Queen of China Melody, Hamako Watanabe (渡辺はま子). In the Japanese version, the song's words were mostly translated into Japanese save for the titular, "Heri Jun Zailai" at the end of each stanza. This translation was done by Tsuneo Nagata (長田恒雄). Ohama-san's delicate soprano expresses our protagonist's bittersweet memories of the lover with whom (she) parted with, and hoping that (he) would soon return. The beautiful and languid accordion-filled tango-inspired melody makes (her) longing even more palpable. Minus the historical context, this perhaps feels like your typical long-distance relationship angsts fit for any time period. With the historical context, I reckon it could be read as a soldier leaving his loved one after being sent off to war. I have a darker interpretation to fit the period's situation, but I do not want to mar this song any more than it already has been, so I will leave it at that.
Excerpt from "Byakuran no Uta"
Anyways, Ohama-san's version actually came a little later as Japanese-Chinese film and music star Rikōran (李香蘭), a.k.a. Yoshiko Yamaguchi (山口淑子), had recorded it in Mandarin first for a Japanese audience. Even earlier, it was originally recorded by Chinese songstress Zhou Xuan (周璇), but for the domestic Chinese market. According to Pope, Ri's rendition was released in Japan in April 1939 and seemed to be quite the sensation. From the video above, even popped up in the Japan-Chinese "friendship" *ahempropaganda* film (Kokusaku eiga) "Byakuran no Uta" (白蘭の歌) which starred Ri and Kazuo Hasegawa (長谷川一夫) from November 1939, the former playing a Chinese woman who fell in love with a Japanese railway engineer played by the latter.
Ri's original recording
Ri, known for her fluency in both Japanese and Mandarin, was the poster girl for Japan-China relations back in the day (at least), so it was not surprising that she was made to sing "Heri Jun Zailai". The video here features her fully Mandarin version from 1939. As Pope also noted, the original lyrics by Bei Lin differed slightly from Nagata's Japanese translation, wherein the couple in the song have yet to part and are having one last night together. It includes Ri's spoken dialogue which is actually the protagonist's lover happily telling her to not be upset and offers her drinks/a toast over dinner. However, the singer's soft delivery going, "When will you return?" just shows that the jolly toasts are simply a façade. Comparing the versions I've talked about so far, putting aside the language difference, Ohama-san's version somehow gives off a more angsty edge, as compared to Ri's, whose gives off a slightly more melancholic vibe. Perhaps its the even slower tempo and a simpler arrangement similar to the very first recording by Zhou.
Ri's latter day (?) recording
I also came across this version here that I reckon could be a postwar recording since Ri's silk-like voice sounded more mature. But, correct me if I'm wrong. I especially like this version because Ri sang it in both Mandarin and Japanese. It really feels like she continued that Japan-China ambassador role, but without a fascist government's puppetry. Also, the arrangement feels somewhat similar to Ohama-san's take.
Akira-san's recording
Now, you must be wondering why I bracketed "she" and "he" in my earlier descriptions of "Hōrī Jun Zairai". Well, that's because we also have a male Japanese version from the prewar era, from Akira Matsudaira(松平晃) at that. So, I assume that the roles in the lyrics in his version are reversed, wherein it's the man who is pining for his beloved.
Now, Pope had also mentioned Akira-san's involvement in bringing "Hōrī Jun Zairai" to Japan. Soon after Ri's version was released domestically in Japan, Matsudaira had returned from an imon katsudo (Consolatory activities) trip to China arranged by Columbia Records. One thing he brought back was the sheet music to "Hōrī Jun Zairai" and wanted to record it since it was popular in China. And so, Columbia agreed, preparing two Japanese versions: a female version by Ohama-san of "Shina no Yoru" (支那の夜) fame, and a male version by Matsudaira himself. Unfortunately, the powers that be in Columbia thought the song fit a female voice better and thus released Ohama-san's version in August 1939. Nevertheless, since Akira-san's rendition is available in CD albums now, it must've been released at some time in later days, or the original recording was dug out of the archives and digitalized. (Noelle from 11/3/24: According to the J-Wiki, Akira-san's version was dug out in 1970 and released in the LP album "Matsudaira Akira wo Shinonde" (松平晃を偲んで... Remembering Akira Matsudaira) as part of Columbia Records' 60th anniversary.)
Honestly, Akira-san's take genuinely surprised me because I was not expecting him to have also sung "Hōrī Jun Zairai". I uncovered it on my Akira-san appreciation drive a few days back when looking at the song list for one of his Best albums available on Spotify. Without hesitation, I gave it a listen. As suggested above, this take has the exact same arrangement as Ohama-san's, and he similarly employed the vocal gymnastics that are meant to be reminiscent of Chinese singers at the time. Contrary to Columbia's decision and probably a hot take, I thought "Hōrī Jun Zairai" fitted a man's voice quite well. And Akira-san, whom I usually thought to be quite stiff in his vocal delivery, was able to bring forth much emotion to appropriately carry the song... I liked it way more than I expected... Oh, could this actually be my favourite version? Oh. ( ´艸｀*) Nah, Akira-san will, at best, be around Mr. Fujiyama's level and no higher. I'm quite certain of that.
Ohama-san and Akira-san's "duet"
To wrap up this article, here is something I think is amazing. Someone on YouTube (channel 古今東西昔昔今今) did us the greatest service by meshing both Ohama-san's and Akira-san's versions together to create a duet. It personally feels like a play on the idea present in Zhou's original, where both halves of the couple are expressing their love and pining for each other to each other. Ah, the wonders of technology. This is the version we don't need but deserve.
Akira-san and Ohama-san From "松平晃、ミス・コロムビアらが参加した、 コロムビア芸術団の慰問風景を収めた貴重映像！"
I believe my grandfather enjoyed Zhou Xuan's songs. If he were still around, I would make him listen to all these versions of "Heri Jun Zailai"/"Hōrī Jun Zairai". Just because... Although, I wouldn't put it past him to go, "This is a Chinese song. Why are you listening to a Japanese man(I won't say the term he would've used) sing this in Japanese?"
"Juu-ni-gatsu no Ame no Hi"(A Rainy Day in December) is a signature song by Happy End（はっぴいえんど）bringing together for the first time Takashi Matsumoto's（松本隆）lyrics of his impressions of a rainy day in Roppongi and Eiichi Ohtaki's（大滝詠一）melody. It basically means that this song is the first step for City Pop. The words "wind" and "city" have already popped up within the lyrics. The season of the "wind rising" called pop music has arrived in Tokyo.
The above comes from "Disc Collection Japanese City Pop Revised" (2020).
Hi, J-Canuck here. Unlike the last Yutaka Kimura Speaks and Happy End article of "Kaze wo Atsumete"（風をあつめて）that I put up last August, "Juu-ni-gatsu no Ame no Hi" is a song that I hadn't actually covered on my own. I have to say that it is an impressively atmospheric tune about a person doing some people watching after a rain. Although there is no mention of Roppongi in Matsumoto's lyrics, I can imagine that person may be hanging out in the famed Almond Café at the southwest corner of the main intersection in the area.
I found Kimura's observation that this particular song represents the baby steps for City Pop which would get popularized several years into the 1970s. There's more of a folk rock arrangement than the usual thumping bass and smooth groove in the City Pop that we know and love, but again going back to Matsumoto's lyrics, "Juu-ni-gatsu no Ame no Hi" does speak to life and living in the city, namely Tokyo, back in the day. As for readers who may not understand the last two sentences of Kimura's feelings above, the two words of "wind" (kaze) and "city" (machi) that appear in the lyrics seem to have become the legendary words for the band since they would also be used for their 2nd album in 1971, "Kazemachi Roman"（風街ろまん...Wind City Romance）. In that album, there is that overarching concept of the winds of change blowing through the city...the city where the Happy End members grew up as they witnessed these changes. Kimura's final sentence lifts one lyric directly from the song to make his point that Japanese music itself was undergoing massive changes.
Over the Holidays, podcaster and friend Rocket Brown let me know about a singer from the late 60s and early 70s who went by the name Sally Mae（サリー・メイ）. I then found a video that has been labeled "Sally Mae" on YouTuber SUKEBAN刄ZVEKO's channel which had this blonde lady in what seems to be a yakuza movie executing justice on a doomed ruffian. I'm pretty sure that this is indeed the same Sally Mae whose picture I saw on the single cover of the song that Rocket had sent me since the lady was also mostly a movie actress.
Looking at the name, single cover and the movie clip, I had assumed that Sally Mae was an American or European who was a perfectly fluent Japanese speaker, but apparently according to one Japanese blogger, she was 100% Japanese and her J-Wiki file states that she was born in Kyoto as Sachiko or Yukiko Kako（加古幸子）in 1948 with no English name added. The blogger also mentions that her hair was something that had been bleached out.
Well, whatever the case may be, the music part of her career began in 1963 when she was a member of the Group Sounds band Sharp Hawks（シャープ・ホークス）although she had left before they made their major debut. Then in 1969, Sally Mae made her own solo debut with an enka tune (with some bluesy Mood Kayo elements) titled "Gincho Nagarebana" (Silver Butterfly [or Ginza Butterfly] Flowers). Written by Kohan Kawauchi（川内康範）and composed by Reiji Hana（花礼二）, Sally Mae channels her inner Keiko Fuji（藤圭子）in her delivery of the lyrics about living alone and lonely (possibly as a hostess) in the cruel world of Tokyo.
Sally Mae released a total of five singles and a 1970 album. Along with her singing and acting roles, she was also a model and a television program assistant before retiring in 1975. She had been married to a pitcher for the Hiroshima Carp but subsequently divorced. Unfortunately, she would pass away sometime in the late 1980s although the year has yet to be specified.
The late husky-voiced Mina Aoe（青江三奈）recorded a cover version of "Gincho Nagarebana" for her 1970 album"Mugi to Heitai ~ Aoe Mina Otokogokoro wo Utau"（麦と兵隊 青江三奈 男ごころを唄う...Wheat and Soldiers: Mina Aoe Sings of a Man's Heart）. Many thanks to Rocket Brown.
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