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.
Enka singer Aya Shimazu（島津亜矢）has been a frequent presence on shows such as "Shin BS Nihon no Uta"（新BS日本の歌）, and for good reason. She's one of the best chanteuses out there who also possesses a hint of soul in her delivery. But I feel a bit regretful that I seem to have usually posted articles which include her doing cover versions of other singers' songs. Maybe the last one I posted which was on a Shimazu original was "Natsu Tsubaki"（夏つばき）back in 2022.
Well, she was on "Shin BS Nihon no Uta" last night and she sang her 25th single from March 1999, "Tokai no Suzume" (Swallow of the City). Written by Osamu Yoshioka（吉岡治）and composed by Masato Sugimoto（杉本眞人）, I'm kinda on the fence on whether the song is a contemporary enka or whether it's a blend of enka and urban contemporary which would then put it into the category of New Adult Music. Whichever genre I ultimately decide upon, it is a song that shows that soulfulness in her vocals
When I first heard the song last night on NHK, my impression of the lyrics was that the swallow, being a migratory bird, was a metaphor for any wayward ex-boyfriend or new boyfriend being invited (back) into the fold as it were by a lonely hope-deficient woman. However, seeing the official music video above, "Tokai no Suzume" may actually be more about a wayward buddy in arms stuck in a criminal crisis.
Our regular Sunday kayo kyoku viewing habits were upended a little when I saw that "Shin BS Nihon no Uta"（新BS日本の歌）had actually been scheduled for 11:30 am this morning on the NHK Premium stream. It's usually set on Jme for 5:30 pm on NHK Select. Well, not looking a gift horse in the mouth, we all opted to watch it just before lunch instead of right after dinner.
As usual, one of my habits was seeing and listening for any kayo kyoku that I hadn't heard or covered on the blog yet, and as it turned out, there was one new entry out there. With a title of "Ore no Deban wa Kitto Kuru"(My Time Will Surely Come) , this is about as enka as they get...plenty of kobushi, shakuhachi, emotion and all of that traditional arrangement. However, it's not about a romance underneath the blossoming cherry trees or a wandering vagabond ronin righting wrongs and such.
From what I've gleaned of Yurio Matsui's（松井由利夫）lyrics, the story is about an understudy in a kabuki performance biding his time before he gets his time to shine on the stage. So much enka to come bursting forth from the grand kabuki hall. Masatoshi Hyudo*（首藤正毅）was behind the very woodsy enka melody and "Ore no Deban wa Kitto Kuru" was the debut single of enka singer Masumi Yonekura（米倉ますみ）from 1983. The song itself gradually picked up speed and popularity over several years until in 1989, it became a huge hit, selling approximately 300,000 copies.
Yonekura, who comes from Aichi Prefecture, has released a number of singles but she seems to have kept a very low profile for a talented singer. I've come across recordings of her song on YouTube but only one video of her actually being shown performing it on television. As well, a number of other enka singers have covered it such as Aya Shimazu（島津亜矢）with her usual brio.
*According to Jisho.org, there are many readings for the first name of the composer stated above so I'm just going with Masatoshi for now. If anyone can confirm or correct me on this, I'd greatly appreciate it.
Last night's "Uta Con"（うたコン）was a slightly more hushed affair overall with the solemn annual tribute to the late Queen of Kayo Kyoku, Hibari Misora（美空ひばり）who would have been 85 as of May 29th this year.
I was able to hear a Misora song that I hadn't heard before, and it turned out that this was a single of hers that was released back in October 1974. "Ippon no Enpitsu"(A Pencil) is a quiet indictment of war (in the shadow of the atomic bombings) and a sung hope for peace that was born from her decision to participate in the very first Hiroshima Peace Music Festival（広島平和音楽祭）in that year. Misora, whose family had gone through difficult experiences through World War II including the Bombing of Yokohama, readily accepted the invitation to sing at the festival.
A sung version of a pen pal writing to her friend about her hopes and dreams, the lyrics were provided by movie director and screenwriter Zenzo Matsuyama（松山善三）. Famed composer and a member of the executive committee for the festival, Masao Koga（古賀政男）, had been supposed to come up with the melody but had to bow out due to illness, so Masaru Sato（佐藤勝）came in his stead. "Ippon no Enpitsu" comes off as an elegant and an almost wondrous kayo about what could be if all people decided to take the peaceful path.
Not surprisingly, the song has been covered many times in the years since Misora first performed it. Including last night's Shinobu Otake（大竹しのぶ）, there have been singers like Aya Shimazu（島津亜矢）and miwa.
Somehow, I think that the Japanese names for certain plants and flowers lend quite a bit more warmth than their English-language equivalents. For instance, natsu tsubaki（夏椿）is known officially on Wikipedia as Stewartia pseudocamellia. Gesundheit! However, translating it directly brings out the more romantic summer camellia.
As well, enka singer Aya Shimazu（島津亜矢）also provides some justice through her rendition of "Natsu Tsubaki", her 70th single released in July 2021. Being one of the most well-known female singers of her genre, comparing her to some of her contemporaries is quite interesting. Sayuri Ishikawa（石川さゆり）always struck me as the representative of steel under silk whenever she sings while Yoshimi Tendo（天童よしみ）has had that Kansai robustness. Shimazu seems to possess that tenderheartedness that she wears quite openly on her sleeve whenever she sings of affairs of the heart. I don't see her often cry during a performance but the tears are still there in her voice, no matter the song, and that also has had her singing English-language soul ballads quite effectively, too.
"Natsu Tsubaki", which was written by Makoto Kitajo（喜多條忠）and composed by Tetsuya Watari（渡哲也）, has the titular flower being the backdrop of the aftermath of a torrid romance that has clearly come to an end with the protagonist probably picking up the pieces in the form of camellia petals. It does start off with an electric guitar riffing away followed by some horns booming (perhaps reflecting the past affair) before Shimazu softly but clearly describes the scene. This can be just one of those enka examples for taking that lonely drink in a quiet bar somewhere.
In recent years, I've been made aware of this particular kayo titled "Iyomante no Yoru" (The Night of the Sendoff Ceremony) sung by enka veteran Takashi Hosokawa（細川たかし）. But this isn't an enka song. When I first heard Hosokawa perform it a few years ago, he didn't particularly sing it; it was actually more of a bellowing of what sounded like an incantation for something to happen at that ceremony of the title. It was raw, operatic and the rhythm felt like part of a soundtrack from an old 1940s adventure in Africa. What the heck was "Iyomante no Yoru"?
Well, we have to go all the way back to an old NHK radio drama called "Kane no Naru Oka"（鐘の鳴る丘...The Hill on Which the Bell Tolls） which had been broadcast between the summer of 1947 to the end of 1950. A story by playwright and lyricist Kazuo Kikuta（菊田一夫）, the plot featured a demobilized soldier who ends up living in a communal facility in a mountain village on a hill and becomes well acquainted with some war orphans.
Famed composer Yuuji Koseki（古関裕而）, who had worked with Kikuta before to create "Francesca no Kane"（フランチェスカの鐘）in 1948, came up with "Iyomante no Yoru" as the theme representing the woodsmen in the drama as he improvised something while performing on a Hammond organ. It was originally meant to be performed with just the "Ahhhhh..." bellowing, but singer Hisao Ito（伊藤久男）, who had recorded Koseki's iconic "Eikan wa Kimi ni Kagayaku"（栄冠は君に輝く ）, occasionally listened to "Kane no Naru Oka" and fell in love with "Iyomante no Yoru".
Both Kikuta and Koseki eventually got together with Ito and came up with the revised "Iyomante no Yoru". The lyricist had some experience with Ainu songs so he adapted some of the language of this East Asian ethnic group native to Hokkaido and added it to the lyrics for the song. In fact, the word iyomante is Ainu for a sendoff ceremony. A 45" single was sold in stores as of January 1950.
However, according to the J-Wiki article on "Iyomante no Yoru", despite the Ainu influence in the language, it was found that with the arrangements which included an African tom-tom drum and the fact that in spite of the title hinting at a night ceremony, any actual sendoff ceremonies in Ainu culture were almost always performed in the daytime, there were opinions raised that the song really didn't musically reflect the Ainu.
Another interesting point of trivia found in the J-Wiki article is that the NHK singing program "Nodo Jiman"（のど自慢）during the period of 1950-1952 found almost all of the male contestants asking to sing "Iyomante no Yoru" which put the judges in a bit of a tizzy. During the show in modern times, I've occasionally seen a few guys come up to perform the song, even high school boys.
But it hasn't been just the amateurs tackling the song. A number of singers have covered it, too, including tenor Masafumi Akikawa（秋川雅史）who gained national fame for his rendition of "Sen no Kaze ni Natte"（千の風になって）in 2006, as well as enka singer Aya Shimazu（島津亜矢）. I think with "Iyomante no Yoru", there is probably that "muscularity" in there that has attracted the kayo singers like a workout machine attracting the gym athletes.
When it comes to the works of enka singer Aya Shimazu（島津亜矢）on "Kayo Kyoku Plus", we've often brought her to articles where she has covered songs of the original singers.
Therefore, it's nice when we can cover a song that is one of her own, and that is the case of her 13th single"Uminari no Uta" (The Song of the Sounds of the Sea) released in June 1995. Enka is the one genre where having plenty of emotion on one's sleeve is pretty much a requirement, and I think Shimazu has one of those voices which can literally roar across the vocal spectrum.
Created by legends, lyricist Tetsuro Hoshino（星野哲郎）and composer Toru Funamura（船村徹）, Shimazu can plumb the smoky depths of her voice and then bring it all the way up to the ear-ringing heights. Hoshino's lyrics contain a few kanji that I'm not too cognizant of, but from what I could interpret of them, it reads like a most epic account of a seaside-residing fishing family through the generations. Those proud horns and electric guitar complete the effect.
Come to think of it, Hoshino and Funamura did create the classic "Kyodai Bune"（兄弟船）for Ichiro Toba（鳥羽一郎）many years earlier, and it's the account of fishing brothers fighting the elements to get their catch for the family.
Friday nights seem to be the time for the company section to hit the izakaya en masse but perhaps then Monday nights might be the first opportunity of the week for the lone corporate cog or a couple of them anyways to drop by the favourite watering hole somewhere nearby...maybe it's on the main drag or perhaps it's hidden in one of the back streets, away and unknown from the higher-ups of the firm.
I discovered this perhaps not-as-well-known Hibari Misora（美空ひばり）single from 1982 titled "Uramachi Sakaba" (Back Alley Bar). Still, Misora had so many hits and had so much respect that even the lesser lights of her discography have probably provided much joy to kayo listeners.
Written by Daizo Saito（さいとう大三）and composed by Tetsuya Ryu（竜鉄也）, who had a huge hit the year before with "Oku-Hida Bojou"（奥飛騨慕情）, "Uramachi Sakaba" is as comforting an enka song as the arrival of the tokkuri and ochoko of sake being placed quietly on the bar counter. It is just the lone drinker coming to the watering hole, though, as he drowns his sorrow in drink with the bartender lending a sympathetic ear. For my ears, that bartender is represented by accordion and the mandolin-sounding instrument. I don't drink all that much so those instruments have provided my aural enjoyment of imbibing. But of course, even with the somewhat melancholy lyrics, The Queen of Kayo's delivery is ever cheerful and encouraging added by a goodly dollop of gusto. She could be the one behind the counter providing verbal and liquid solace for all we know.
"Uramachi Sakaba" peaked at No. 28 on Oricon and it stayed on the charts for over 6 months, selling a little over 150,000 copies. There was also a Misora album with the same title that came out in July 1982.
Misora numbers will have their cover versions and it was no different with "Uramachi Sakaba". Ayako Fuji（藤あや子）provides her own version here.
Looking through the 1980 2-disc album for the "Seishun Uta Nenkan"（青春歌年鑑）series, I shouldn't have been that surprised that most of the 30 songs have been covered on the blog. But there it is. However, there was one that I had yet to write about and it was the last track on Disc 1.
Considering that the first 14 tracks on that disc were pop, aidoru and City Pop, to hear this one was a bit of a jarring experience when I first put the CD into the player years ago. "Oyaji no Umi" (Dad's Ocean) is about as enka as you can get. With the chorus relentlessly giving the "Yoi-sho, yoi-sho" and that shakuhachi starting things off, I could virtually smell the sea air and hear the fishing boats head offshore.
Then there was that voice by enka singer Kenkichi Muraki（村木賢吉）. The following observation is no slight against him at all; in fact, I would say that it is a compliment when I say that his voice, which sounds like freshly-harvested rice before the husking and milling (in other words, unpolished), has that character which differentiates him from some of the other more refined kayo singers. In effect, he sounds like a dyed-in-the-wool fisherman who has a good ability to sing. I wouldn't see him on the NHK stage in Tokyo. His natural setting would be on the docks somewhere in the Tohoku where he is originally from.
And that is what "Oyaji no Umi" is all about. Written and composed by Tatsuo Sagi（佐義達雄）, this is a ballad about a fisherman who is plying his hard family trade while remembering his departed father. Often when I hear about these fishing-based enka such as "Kyodai Bune"（兄弟船）, I think the songs were created to emulate a war battle. Not the case here, though. This is more about fishing as fishing; a hard but important industry in Japan with the fishermen diligently going about their duties day by day.
Muraki, according to J-Wiki, had entered work at the Mitsubishi Materials Corporation where he worked in a mine in his hometown of Kazuno, Akita Prefecture before being transferred to the town of Naoshima, Kagawa Prefecture in 1967. It was there he hit it off with future songwriter Sagi who worked at the same company at the time. The two of them worked on a song which came out in 1972 with Muraki temporarily taking on the stage name of Shimando Maki（真木島人）but it didn't particularly sell.
Sagi then made another song for his friend in the same year who apparently had decided to go with his real name this time. This was "Oyaji no Umi", and it was independently produced with just 500 records made. But then, Muraki was once again transferred...this time over to the city of Gotemba, Shizuoka Prefecture in 1973.
Cue ahead to 1978, and in a plot twist that would make Frank Capra happy, "Oyaji no Umi" somehow made its presence known through the cable radio system in Kushiro City, HokkaidoPrefecture. And it caught on fire and within 6 months, all of Japan caught onto it. Philips Records re-released the single in February 1979 after which it did far better in sales, ultimately selling more than 1.4 million records and becoming a huge hit for that year and for the next. It must have been quite a giddy experience for both singer Muraki (who was around 47 years old at the time) and songwriter Sagi. "Oyaji no Umi" won the singer an All-Japan Cable Radio Broadcasting Award for Best New Artist, and Sagi received accolades at the Japan Lyricists' Awards. The song topped off at No. 5 on the Oricon weeklies and ended up as the 17th-ranked single for 1980.
It was in 1979 that Muraki decided to leave Mitsubishi to focus solely on his singing career. Since then, "Oyaji no Umi" has been covered by a number of other enka artists, one of them being, I'm happy to say, the great Kouhei Fukuda（福田こうへい）as shown above. Plus, there is also Aya Shimazu's（島津亜矢）cover below.
The J-Wiki article doesn't mention any other hit songs for Muraki so it's probable that he ended up as a one-hit wonder (as loathe as I am to use that expression) but when that one hit has gotten covered by other enka stars as the ones that I've mentioned, I can't help but feel that Muraki is still reaping his respect. And why not? "Oyaji no Umi" still has that sensation of ship-worn wood and rope-burned gloves.
Back in the postwar period, there were a lot of songs recorded and released about regular folks having to come into the big city or elsewhere away from their hometowns to find work. They may be working hard and saving up for their families but they truly miss their furusato. One big representative of that type of song is "Ahh, Ueno Eki"（ああ上野駅）from 1964 by Hachiro Izawa（井沢八郎）who sang about the young people flowing into Tokyo's Ueno Station from the various regions.
Another similarly-themed song came in a bit earlier. That would be "Souran Wataridori"(Souran Migratory Birds) from April 1961 by the Komadori Shimai（こまどり姉妹）, Eiko and Yoko Namiki（並木栄子・並木葉子）. I caught an episode of NHK's "Itsuki Sensei no Utau! SHOW Gakko"（五木先生の 歌う！SHOW学校...Itsuki-sensei's Singing Show School） on Tuesday..."Uta Con"（うたコン）has been on summer hiatus...in which the theme was Hokkaido songs, and "Souran Wataridori" was on the playlist.
The thing about "Souran Wataridori" is that the melody by Minoru Endo（遠藤実）and the the lyrics by Miyuki Ishimoto（石本美由起）are very familiar to me especially the chorus of "yaaren, souran, souran, souran"（ヤーレン、ソーラン、ソーラン、ソーラン）that the sisters chant out. Unlike "Aah, Ueno Eki" with its setting of a major station in the capital, I think "Souran Wataridori" is more likely set at one of the larger but regional port cities employing fishery workers who may have come south from Hokkaido or moved to one of the coastal cities in Japan's northernmost prefecture.
What I found out from jisho.org is that a souran bushi（ソーラン節）is a "traditional work song of Hokkaido herring fishery workers, performed by school students in modern choreographed interpretations". So, perhaps the workers didn't actually sing and bring in the fish in a rhythmic fashion but the teachers and kids interpreted their work that way.
In the first verse, though, there was a mention about someone plucking away at the shamisen so maybe the song wasn't just devoted to the migrant port workers but also to all those who left their hometowns (labourers, entertainers, etc.) to find work in the big cities. The Komadori Shimai themselves were born in Hokkaido and came to Tokyo to work as strolling musicians on the streets.
Being able to remember the song is probably not so surprising considering that it has probably been covered countless times since the 1960s. Above we have Toshimi Tagawa（田川寿美）and Aya Shimazu （島津亜矢）among othersproviding their version. The songwriters, by the way, also provided the Komadori Shimai with their first single, "Asakusa Shimai"（浅草姉妹）back in 1959.
Caught NHK's "Nodo Jiman"（のど自慢）earlier this afternoon and it looks like that bell ringer was in a pretty snotty mood. I don't think he gave the full ring of approval until almost halfway through the show, and it turned out to be for an elderly lady singing an old Hibari Misora（美空ひばり）chestnut.
It was indeed a fine rendition so I decided to look up this song "Omae ni Horeta" (I've Fallen For You) and was surprised to find out that it was created for the Grande Dame of Kayo Kyoku in 1980. Although I know that Misora sang right to the end of her days at the end of the 1980s, my impression was that most of her classic enka songs were from the 1960s. But this particular song has that certain grandness of some of those old hits such as "Yawara"（柔）and the male point of view but with the topic this time being the simple reaction of falling in love.
However, along with the grandeur, I also noticed an underlayer of gentleness in "Omae ni Horeta" as if the protagonist here wasn't exactly the youngest buck in the forest but an older and more courteous sort who's fallen in love with a lady who may be the proprietress of the local nomiya. There's not so much hormonally-fueled lust in the guy's eyes than there is a wistful interest in the lass.
Released in February 1980, the ballad was written by Takashi Taka（たかたかし）and composed by Koji Tokuhisa（徳久広司）who had tried his hand at singing for about a year in the mid-1970s before deciding making songs was more his forte. "Omae ni Horeta" ranked up there at No. 43 on Oricon.
I guess it has been that mixture of gusto and gentility that has made the song a favourite for enka singers since Misora's original version. Aya Shimazu（島津亜矢）has given it a fine go.
And so has Natsuko Godai（伍代夏子）. I've also enjoyed the various versions for the fact that the singers have been given the chance to plumb the lower registers of their voices.
Ever since encountering"Jan Naito Jan" (ジャン・ナイト・じゃん), I have always been marveling about how incredible Haruo Minami's (三波春夫) rapping ability was. However, I discovered that in the genre he's known for, rokyoku, there's rapid-fire narration, and I found that out through listening to "Tawaraboshi Genba" in its entirety. The veteran's delivery of this lengthy bit was incredibly fast yet articulate, and so that made me realise, in a sense he was technically rapping even before he decided to deviate a little from enka, and "Jan Naito Jan" was probably a piece of cake for him compared to his iconic hit decades before.
Here's "Jan Naito Jan" for reference.
To give some background info on "Tawaraboshi Genba" or "Genroku Mei Sofu Tawaraboshi Genba (元禄名槍譜 俵星玄蕃): It isn't your typical kayo-rokyoku. It falls under the category of Chouhen Kayo-Rokyoku (長編歌謡浪曲... long kayo-rokyoku). Creating this sub-genre was Minami himself who sought to revive this narrative style of singing that seemed to be dying by the end of WWII. A rokyoku song is usually quite a long one, and from what I've tried to watch (not very much, really) it can be rather draggy/boring. So, what Minami did was to condense a rokyoku story into a (comparatively) short and sweet package combined with enka-yo to make it more appealing to audiences that can be easily bored (like me). The narrative that was shortened here is Chushingura (忠臣蔵... The Treasury of Loyal Retainers), which refers to fictional tale that revolves around the Forty-seven Ronin's plot to avenge their master's death - the real historical event is called the Ako Incident. Minami had penned this rendition under his pen name Touji Kitamura (北村桃児).
60's Minami... don't get to see that all that often, now that I think of it.
Anyway, due to its length "Tawaraboshi Genba" isn't a tune I listen to all that much - also because my Minami compilation album doesn't have it. But recently I have developed a lot more appreciation for this kayo-rokyoku. The music, brought to you by renowned showa era composer, Yoshiji Nagatsu (長津義司), sounded like three different enka melded into one. It starts off noble - a little like "Yawara" (柔), then dips into something like a slightly jauntier version of "Otone Mujou" (大利根無情), after which the score picks up to become something akin to a crazier, faster paced "Ippon Doko no Uta" (いっぽんどっこの唄), before finally ending on that grand note it began with.
We also have Minami's delivery - by far my favourite part of "Tawaraboshi Genba" - which was as much of a roller coaster ride as the accompanying melody. As in "Otone Mujou", the fun comes when the expressions of the rokyoku master change fluidly like the face-changing characters in Chinese operas. One moment he's his usual beaming self that welcomes all with his chirpy vocals, the next his eyes have a murderous glint and he's screaming like a mad man and ruffling that neatly gelled back hair. Of course, there's also that intense "rapping" session - kinda sounds like chanting - I mentioned at the start of the article, so on a whole, "Tawaraboshi Genba" turned out to be more entertaining to me that what I had originally assumed.
"Tawaraboshi Genba" was released a number of times, most notably in April 1964 (original release) and in October 1992, the latter of which was actually a self cover rap mix with... an easy-going reggae version of "Sekai no Kuni kara Konnichiwa" (世界の国からこんにちは). Minami had sung the original twice on the Kohaku, the first being during his 7th appearance in 1964 and the second during his 31st and last appearance in 1999. Since it is a long song of about almost 9 minutes (about two/three normal enka songs long), most of the rokyoku portion was cut out when it was sung on TV due to time constraints.
A number of enka performers have attempted this kayo-rokyoku, and the ones I tend to see a lot are those by Aya Shimazu (島津亜矢) and Keisuke Yamauchi (山内惠介). Both are respectable but I have to say that Shimazu manages to convey the high intensity of "Tawaraboshi Genba" better than Yamauchi does.
Ah, seeing the Oricon article on Toru Funamura's (船村徹) passing hit me harder than I had expected. I guess it's because he was behind the scores of a number of my favourite songs, most notably Hideo Murata's (村田英雄) "Osho" (王将), and he was one of the famed showa era songwriters I had the chance to see alive on TV - I was ecstatic when "Kayo Concert" did a special on him a couple of years ago. However, he did look rather frail, and at over eighty years of age, it was only a matter of time... That didn't lessen the shock and sadness of seeing him go though - those ninjas had chopped some onions.
J-Canuck had recently done an article aptly summarizing the life and works of this big figure in the world of enka, but I'd like to pay tribute to him as well by writing about one of his pieces. My choice was Saburo Kitajima's (北島三郎) "Fusetsu Nagare Tabi". I believe I had mentioned that Funamura's musical style had two extremes: Heavily melancholic with a mysterious atmosphere - like a thick layer rolling over a lake at night, or grandeur and powerful - like the theme song of a noble man. This iconic single falls under the latter category, and I do love hearing stuff from this category.
That is such a cool entrance...
"Fusetsu Nagare Tabi" was able to grab my attention with its dramatic score. Those blaring trumpets with that manly thumping of the drums and the hissing of the shakuhachi makes for a quite the grand entrance for an enka singer of Ol' Sab's status, especially in the past two decades. The only bit that is on the milder side is during the Tsugaru shamisen solo, which gives a little tranquility to the melody that sounds like a raging blizzard itself - that is, of course, if there is only one shamisen player at work and not a whole army of them. As forceful and impressive as Funamura's melody is, there is this wistful undertone to it to match the lyrics of another great showa era songwriter, Tetsuro Hoshino (星野哲郎). Over here, Sabu-Chan emotively warbles about the struggles of a weary Tsugaru shamisen player travelling around northern Japan (correct me if I'm wrong). Interestingly, the "Fusetsu" in the title can mean a snowstorm or refer to hardships, and in the case of "Fusetsu Nagare Tabi" I think both meanings were intentionally used.
Sabu-Chan's 37th single was released on 15th September 1980, and it allowed him to win the grand prize for the 1st Koga Masao Commemoration Music Awards (古賀政男記念音楽大賞). He had sung "Fusetsu Nagare Tabi" a total of 7 times out of his 50 appearances on the Kohaku with the first being in 1980 and the last being in 2012. As to why I say this is one of his iconic works, it's due to a confetti storm (or sometimes shower) that engulfs the singer whenever he were to tackle it - both an awesome and hilarious spectacle, the latter from seeing Sab's struggling to sing with confetti in his mouth.
While this is Kitajima's tune, it almost wasn't as the first person chosen to sing "Fusetsu Nagare Tabi" was in fact Murata. However, he declined the offer as, quoting and roughly translating from the J-Wiki, "Although I am born and raised by the shamisen and rokyoku, this is about Tsugaru shamisen". Not exactly the reason why I'd think someone would turn down a song, but I'm sure Muchi had his reasons for sticking to the non-Tsugaru shamisen... initially. In his later years he gave it a shot, which you can listen to in the link below. Personally, I think Muchi's image fit Funamura's melody better and he give a rougher edge to "Fusetsu Nagare Tabi", but then again, I feel that Sab's could bring out the character's angst better.
"Fusetsu Nagare Tabi" has been attempted by many enka singers, but the one I see the most has got to be Aya Shimazu's (島津亜矢). She does it justice with those muscular vocals of hers.
First off, I hope that everyone in Kumamoto Prefecture is doing fine after that M6.4 earthquake in the area on Thursday night.
The classic Minami pose
It hasn't been too busy a week in terms of work so I've been able to do some more digging into the record vaults, so to speak, and I was able to pull this one out by the master himself, the late Haruo Minami（三波春夫）the minyo-trained enka singer. The album is a 2-record set of 20 of his hits and listening to just even Record 1 had me realizing that a lot of them could have been chosen by fellow collaborator Noelle Tham herself!
Then I came across this song by Minami which was yet to have been placed into the blog. It's titled "Ippon Gatana Dohyo Iri"(One-Sword Enters The Ring) and just like a lot of his works, it's a Minami celebration based on a dramatic play of the same name originally created by novelist and playwright Shin Hasegawa（長谷川伸）about a struggling sumo wrestler named Mohei（茂兵衛）without friends or family who needs some sympathy and money, and finally gets both from a waitress in a bar-lined street. A decade later, Mohei ends up as a gambler and has a fateful re-encounter with that kind waitress...and some other not-so-kind fellows. The 1960 song was written by Masato Fujita（藤田まさと）and composed by Kazuo Harukawa（春川一夫）, and listening to it on the record, I could tell that this "Ippon Gatana Dohyo Iri" stressed more of the hero in anti-hero when it came to Mohei.
Now, if you noticed above the performance video of Minami in the last line, I stated "this 'Ippon Gatana Dohyo Iri'", and that is because, there are at least four different songs with that same exact title in existence in enka according to the J-Wiki article. I don't think I have ever come across a situation like this before on the blog so I've gone beyond the boundaries of that BEST album by Minami to find out about the other three. I think any drama that has been able to give birth to four different enka songs created by different songwriters must be highly respected indeed, and from what I could glean from the story as summarized on that J-Wiki article, the overarching themes are duty, charity and honour.
The first version of "Ippon Gatana Dohyo Iri" was actually released in 1957 and sung by Michiya Mihashi（三橋美智也）. Written by Kikutaro Takahashi（高橋掬太郎）and composed by Junichi Hosokawa（細川潤一）, just from first impressions, there is more of an elegiac and solemn feeling to this original version. Hiroshi Itsuki（五木ひろし）and Kiyoshi Hikawa（氷川きよし）have also covered this take as well.
Unfortunately, I couldn't find out when enka singer Yuriko Futaba（二葉百合子）sang her own version of "Ippon Gatana Dohyo Iri" but this one was written by Tetsuro Fujima（藤間哲郎）and composed by Seiichi Sakurada（桜田誠一）. Perhaps it might be my own ears, but I think there is a softer feeling to this different song, although it seems as if Futaba is singing from the man's point of view.
Then in May 1992, "Ippon Gatana Dohyo Iri" was released in this form as Aya Shimazu's（島津亜矢）7th single. Out of the four versions, I think this one which is definitely told from Mohei's perspective is the most boisterous, especially with Shimazu taking on the wrestler's defiant voice. This was written by Kotoba Takatsuki（高月ことば）and composed by Ryosuke Murasawa（村沢良介）.
Since I've only just heard these four songs which all come across as The Ballad of Mohei, I can't really give much more insight than what I've written above. Perhaps with repeated listenings over the next little while will I be able to get some idea of any different angle of Hasegawa's classic tale.
Knowing how much I like the Yon'nin Shu, Mom had gotten me a copy of Hideo Murata's (村田英雄) "Kiwami Best 50" (極 ベスト50) as a surprise birthday gift, along with Mae-Kiyo's new book. Though the package (it was ordered online) arrived early last week and she gave the green light for me to open it then, I was adamant in waiting for the weekend to see for myself the contents that lie within (she didn't tell me what she got). It was hard to do so, I can tell you that, as I am not a fan of suspense and anticipation; I think I now know how dogs feel when they are given the command to wait after a treat is being placed on their snout. Well, long story short, I now have a sort-of biography of Kiyoshi Maekawa (前川清) that I can partially understand and a little over 3 hours worth of Muchi's works, both of which I'm very thankful for.
Anyway, the Murata album, that was released in mid-2015, had 3 discs in it, with the first 2 having the enka singer's original singles and the last featuring covers of ryukoka. As I read through the song list of the latter, one track in particular caught my eye. I had seen this title many a times and watched a number of enka singers tackle it on "Nippon no Uta", but for some reason I never paid attention to it despite telling myself to do so. That song is "Meigetsu Akagiyama". It was originally sung in 1939 by Taro Shoji (東海林太郎), a ryukoka veteran from Akita whose known for his trademark round glasses on his face and tailcoat on his back. Though there isn't much information on this song as there is to Shoji's earlier single that also refers to this mountain in Gunma, "Akagiyama no Komoriuta" (赤城の子守唄), judging by how often it appears on TV, it looks like "Meigetsu Akagiyama" was and is well received by the crowd.
As I listened to "Meigetsu Akagiyama" again a few days ago, its foreboding music with the haunting notes of what I think is the koto, brought to you by composer Hiroshi Kikuchi (菊地博), reminded me of another moon related song that came out almost 2 decades later, "Otsuki-San Konbanwa" (お月さん今晩は). However, in my opinion "Meigetsu Akagiyama" doesn't feel as melancholic despite sounding quite similar. For some reason I think of an assassin/ninja slinking around in the shadows rather than a homesick fellow gazing wistfully at the moon. It's probably because "Meigetsu Akagiyama" has got something to do with the ronin - Choji Yajima's (矢島寵児) lyrics do have the keywords "Sandogasa" (三度笠), which you would usually hear in songs featuring these wandering warriors.
Well, I couldn't find Muchi's rendition of "Meigetsu Akagiyama", but here's Aya Shimazu's (島津亜矢) instead. It looks like she sings it often, and she does a good job with it - the ferocity in which she growls that spoken bit is impressive.
There are a number of folks in Japan currently drinking some of that sake in celebration. And perhaps I can join in on the celebration as well. It's always great to hear when both the land of my birth and the land of my ancestry can jointly rejoice in something, and that was the case earlier this morning when Japanese physicist Takaaki Kajita of Tokyo University and Canadian physicist Arthur B. McDonald of Queens University just up Highway 401 in Kingston, Ontario jointly won the Nobel Prize in Physics for their work on neutrinos. Apparently one of the things they revealed was that neutrinos actually had mass...which means that I will need to shed about 3 billion neutrinos before my next physical. Physics humour, folks!
Anyways, while NHK was getting annoyingly gushy with everyone who had anything to do with Dr. Kajita this morning on the news, I noticed that there was a lot of reference to the Super-Kamiokande Neutrino Observatory in the city of Hida, Gifu Prefecture. Hida has also come up a lot recently in my professional life as well since I've had to translate a few articles on the area for their hot springs.
Plus, there is the fact that Hida reminds me of a high-ranking enka song from the early 1980s, "Oku-Hida Bojou"(Longing for Oku-Hida). The title didn't ring a bell but as soon as I heard the very enka melody, I knew it was a popular song that often gets its due on the various kayo shows.
The late Tetsuya Ryu（竜鉄也）wrote, composed and sang his debut from June 1980, although he had been singing professionally for some time. According to what I read on the song on J-Wiki, he based "Oku-Hida Bojou" on his two weeks performing in a Hida district onsen town back in 1972. He produced and released his song by himself with just 2000 records pressed. However, over the years, the song got noticed as it got played on the old yusen (wire) networks. Some 6 months after its release in 1980, it broke into the Oricon Top 10, eventually reaching No. 2. And that is where it ended up by the end of 1981, No. 2, just behind Akira Terao's（寺尾聡）City Pop classic "Ruby no Yubiwa"（ルビーの指輪）. He also won the Long-Seller Prize at the Japan Record Awards. Because of all of that success, Ryu was able to make his only appearance on the Kohaku Utagassen in 1981. According to Oricon, the single managed to sell about 1.5 million records.
Including "Oku-Hida Bojou", Ryu released a total of 9 singles but no albums between 1980 and 1999. Sadly, he passed away in late 2010 at the age of 74.
My first viewing of "Omoide no Melody" turned out better than expected as the songs I was looking forward were all well sung, though I must say that it felt like I was watching the Kohaku, only shorter and more bearable. I wasn't able to watch all two hours plus of the show as my brother was strongly insistent on wanting to watch his - I know big fans of the sport (like my brother) will get riled by this word - soccer match (BPL) that began half way through the "Omoide no Melody". I relented, but I was firm in telling him to switch back during the bits that I had to watch. That included Hiroshi Itsuki (五木ひろし) crooning "Yogiri yo Konya mo Arigato" (夜霧よ今夜も有難う) - yes, that is one of my favourite songs of all time. Despite my doubts, Itsuki did a fine job.
Anyway, one segment during the uninterrupted first half of the "Omoide no Melody" featured 3 stars from the 60's: bad boy actor Akira Kobayashi, rockabilly Masaaki Hirao, and enka powerhouse Saburo Kitajima. While the veterans each sang a requested song from their discographies, behind them stood black-and-white photos of themselves back then in their heyday, and boy, Kobayashi and Hirao were something to look at! Sorry Sabu-Chan. Speaking of Sabu-Chan, the tune he had in store was one of his first few hits, "Guitar Jingi".
I wasn't that game to listen to "Guitar Jingi" as the "Jingi" bit reminded me of Grandpa enka's later single "Kyodai Jingi" (兄弟仁義), and if the former were to be anything like the latter, I wouldn't like it as it's too slow and... well, boring. But upon hearing the more upbeat and elegant music, I became more agreeable with it... I ended up liking it - Mom couldn't have been any more unimpressed. She actually grumbled when I said that I fancied it. The score was composed by Minoru Endo (遠藤実), and it makes "Guitar Jingi" sound like a song that would have the words "Wataridori" in the title rather than "Guitar", especially when combined with Sabu-Chan in a kimono. The lyrics to "Guitar Jingi" were penned by Teppei Saga (嵯峨哲平).
"Guitar Jingi" was released in 1963, just a year after Sabu-Chan had made his debut. There is no write up on it on the J-Wiki, but seeing that it allowed Grandpa enka to perform on the Kohaku for the very first time, it must have been popular.
The video above has Aya Shimazu (島津亜矢) giving her muscular rendition of "Guitar Jingi". When it comes to songs like these, Aya-Chan is sure to put out a good performance with her clear and powerful vocals.
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Kitajima was one of the emcees on the "Omoide no Melody", and I just loved it when he dragged some of the elderly singers and special guests off the stage!
People back in the 50's must really have a thing for trains. Here we have another train song, this time by Michiya Mihashi (三橋美智也), the last of the trio of reputable Enka singers I've been covering - the other two being Hideo Murata (村田英雄) and Hachiro Kasuga (春日八郎). Murata had this aura of intimidation, Kasuga had this little smile with dimples and Mihashi had this stoic and sometimes even blank look on his face.
Anyway, 'Aishu Ressha' or 'The melancholy train' was Michi's13thsingle and was released on June1956. And since its a melancholic song, he sings the first few words of the song like he is crying out in anguish.
Its lyrics were done by lyricist Hiroshi Yokoi (横井 弘), who also contributed the lyrics to quite a number of Michi's songs. And the music was composed by... something... Kamata(鎌多俊与). I think it did pretty alright, there wasn't any write up on this song either. All I know is that it was a million seller and landed him his first Kohaku appearance in 1956, and he sang it again at the 25th Kohaku in 1974 after 11 years of respite.
Mihashi, a Hokkaido native, actually kinda began his singing career in 1942 at the age of 12 after winning a Minyo (folk music) singing competition a year before. But he officially debuted in 1955 as an Enka singer with 'Onna Sendo Uta' (おんな船頭唄) after moving to Tokyo to find work, and working at an onsen as a boiler engineer in Yokohama while teaching Minyo. Oh yeah, and Takashi Hosokawa (細川たかし) was a student of his.
Aya Shimazu (島津亜矢), another Enka singer whom I always see doing covers of Saburo Kitajima's (北島三郎) songs also did her own rendition of 'Aishu Resha'. She conveys the anguish well, too.
