Bin Uehara & His Fan Club (上原敏とその集い)

Mata kimashita yo, Bin-san. Genki ni shiteimashitaka?

In July 2023, I went to Odate, Akita, to pay my respects to Bin Uehara (上原敏) on my own. In July 2024, I went to see Bin-san again, but this time, it was with the Uehara Bin Tsudoi (上原敏集い). 

I was actually moderately on the fence about heading to Akita again for summer vacation this year for the Ruten Ki (流転忌). As much as I love Bin-san, it was, admittedly one of those soft "Yeah, I'll do it," situations, mainly because I've just been going to Tohoku so much and I'd been wanting to explore different parts of Japan. But as July 2024 drew nearer and having Bin-san grinning at me from my shelf, the idea of heading up north again became more tangible. And then came an update about the memorial and the Tsudoi's festivities from history researcher who'd done work on Bin-san, Yuta Inoue (井上裕太). Seeing that the memorial would start at 10 am, in other words, attendable if I stayed in Akita City or Aomori, and knowing that there are post-memorial activities, I knew I had to go. Or, rather, it cemented my resolve to go. 

"Oiwake Dochu" (追分道中) (1939)

And so, immediately after a movie-music event, I headed up to Tohoku once again. Actually, I even had to leave earlier, otherwise I'd miss my train... Oh, Bin-san, what I'd do for you.

Y'know, I'd chosen to stay in Hirosaki, Aomori, for its closer proximity to Odate - besides also wanting to see the famed Nebuta Festival, of course. I took one of the early trains and reached Odate station from Hirosaki on the morning of 29th of July with ample time to spare. But sometimes, things just don't work out as planned. Bus mix-ups and rain happened, so by the time I reached Keijo Park, it was about 10 minutes past 10 am. In other words, the Ruten Ki with its sing-a-longs just ended... I won't let myself live this down, but, there's always a next year. Bin-san, ireisai ni okurete gomenasai.

"Ruten" (流転) (1937)

I know "Ruten" is the theme for the memorial, but I didn't need a ruten experience of my own...

Mishaps aside, I still got to meet the wonderful Uehara Bin Tsudoi and its members. Leading the Get-Together was Matsuyama-san, a former high school English teacher, at a spritely 84 years-old. There were about 6 or so other members who'd been in the club since its establishment in the 1980s who showed up. As expected, most members were pushing or over 85. However, there were a few members who managed to bring the average age down a little by being below the age of 45. Besides Inoue-san, there was also Ogawa-san, both of whom I mostly knew as online presences - it was great to finally see them in the flesh and put faces to the names. But what surprised me the most was the attendance of Muroya-san, who was the same age as me and highly knowledgeable about Bin-san's discography. This was apparently his first appearance at the memorial as well.

"Toori Ame no Uta" (通り雨の唄) (1939)

It was raining in Odate and I'd mentioned rain songs, so Muroya-san recommended this. I ended liking this a lot.

Besides the Bin-san Tsudoi members, in attendance were also a couple of members of the from Bin-san's senior Taro Shoji's (東海林太郎) fan club, and Taro-san's museum chief Sasaki-san. It was an honor to be in the presence of not just the Bin-san club, but even the Taro-san one.

"Shunkoden" (春香伝) (1939)

After the self-introductions and news press interactions, it was time to pack up and begin the post-memorial events. As with this sort of memorials, Bin-san was showered with sake and beer (I read that he loved his alcohol), as well as some snacks on on the side. On top of that were a few bouquets of flowers. To not let these items go to waste, they were split among the members. I got one of the bouquets. Ordinarily, it's you who's supposed to bring the flowers for the dearly departed not receive them when you go to memorials. Plus, it was pretty obvious that the bouquet I received was one meant as grave visitation offerings (chrysanthemums). But I found that to be highly amusing. More than anything, though, I loved it very much. Why? Because I took it as Bin-san's way of showing his appreciation for visiting him again. A bouquet from him. Making that "Bin-san is my Muryu-sama" fantasy of mine a reality, HUH?

Sadameshi kimi wa tada hitori

Anyways, the post-Ruten Ki events included a visit to the next door Akita Dog Museum, followed by around of karaoke at a local karaoke box. I have to say, meeting fans of a singer you love IRL is one thing, but singing his songs with them is another. It was absolutely surreal when every single song was more a group sing-a-long than an intimidating solo. There was this member, this sweet and chatty grandpa (I am so sorry, but I forgot his name), whose favourite Bin-san tune was "Hatoba Katagi" (波止場気質). That also happened to be my favourite Bin-san tune. So, we sang it together, which was wild because I'd yet to meet someone who liked "Hatoba Katagi" and had bittersweet memories tied to it until that moment.

Namaji kakeru na usu nasake
Yume mo wabishii yoru no hana ~

Considering it was just a standard karaoke machine, Bin-san only had six songs in the system (including two duets). So, after Bin-san's numbers, there were some Taro-san tributes as well, and even an Akita prefecture anthem (??) But there was still some time remaining before lunch. I had made it clear early on that while I love Bin-san, Hachiro Kasuga (春日八郎) is my main priority. The folks promptly registered that information and I was encouraged to do some Hachi numbers: "Otomi-san" (お富さん) and "Uramachi Yakyoku" (裏町夜曲). That was my first time being a Hachi ambassador, if you will, at such a music gathering and that was absolutely surreal.

When all was sung and done, it was time to adjourn for lunch. I went with a katsu don. Katsu don is generally uncharacteristic choice for me, but it's something I choose once in a blue moon for maximum energy replenishment, which I needed after the morning I'd had. This wasn't just a regular katsu don, though. It was Hinai Chicken (Hinai Jidori) katsu don... So, basically some chunky fried native Odate chicken slathered in sweet-savory egg. Bin-san looks like he approved of the choice.  

While it had been an incredibly fun morning of activities, after lunch was where things took on a more serious tone as the future of the club was brought to the table. A reason why I wanted to partake in the posthumous club's activities was to experience how these clubs functioned and better understand the problems they face in the new decade. The post-lunch meeting very clearly showed me that.

It was obvious from the few members in attendance, but membership of the Uehara Bin Tsudoi and its nationwide branch has been steadily shrinking. This is due in part to the members getting on in their years. Many have already left the mortal coil, or find it increasingly difficult to attend the Ruten Ki because of their age. As is, Matsuyama-san also admitted that it's getting harder for him to take charge of the festivities. And so, much of the responsibilities has also been shouldered by the much younger Inoue-san, who'd been in the club for quite some time.

"Otoko Hare Sugata" (男晴れ姿) (1941)

Also, Bin-san has been gone for 80 years at the writing of this article and had a short career of eight years with comparatively fewer objects to remember him by. The passing of time thus making it more and more difficult to keep him relevant in current society. Inoue-san's research on Bin-san's and Taro-san's club activities, as well as his efforts to spread the awareness of these clubs via social media and the local press, and wrangling up us young fans, has been to ensure the survival of not just these clubs. It was also to also ensure that the achievements of these singers who contributed much to the world of Japanese pop music will not be forgotten. Still, it is an uphill task, and various methods of club survival and Bin-san awareness were discussed. I personally liked the Bin-san portrait plus QR codes of his background and hits at Odate station (or maybe the Akita Dog visitor center) idea.

But, despite the gloom and the worry over Uehara Bin Tsudoi's future activities, Grandpa Hatoba Katagi said something that tugged at my heartstrings. It went something along the line of:

It doesn't matter if there are activities organised after the memorial. I will still go to [Keijo Park] every year on this day to pay my respects to [Bin-san]. Having activities isn't that important - I just want to be able to see everyone. The activities aren't a must. I'll just be happy to see if everyone's doing well.

My professor at school mentioned that music plaques (in Okinawa) have the capability to facilitate community building, among other uses. Going by Grandpa Hatoba Katagi's words and having now experienced the Tsudoi's activities firsthand, I believe Bin-san's plaque serves the same purpose. I believe that, on top of preserving the memory of the long-deceased but well-loved singer, the Get-Together brings people together. Not just long-time fans and folks who grew up with the music, but new fans, younger fans in search of a community built around an artist who plays a big role in their lives.

I cannot thank the Uehara Bin Tsudoi for allowing me to join their activities and Inoue-san for spreading the word and the invitation. If you're wondering, yes, I did become a member of the Uehara Bin club. The entry procedures were easy: Just say that you are a member of the club, and there you go - Bin-san club member.

"Hatoba Katagi" (1938)

This year, Bin-san had two fans below the age of 30 visiting him. This is despite the fact that that he had been gone for 80 years. I would like to think that he is happy, where ever he is.

Honni ano (hito) no shiawase wo
Ureshi namida de inoru no sa

P.S. I'd wanted to get this out on Bin-san's birthday (26th August), but I ended up not finding the time to do so... Because I was at Kasai Rinkai Koen looking at fish and doing oshikatsu instead. Also, that photo card was made by none other than PC maker Ms. C.

Happy belated 116th, Bin-san!

Noelle's Summer Playlist （夏のうた）

Since we are dead in the middle of summer, I'd like to share some songs that represent the hottest season of the year to me. They may not necessarily be summer-themed, but they are summer in atmosphere and spirit, or they simply remind me of summer. 

This is a brain-off piece with simple comments rather than proper introductions of the songs. Most of the selection here already have their own entries, so if you'd like to know more about them, feel free to have a look. The idea is just to let you guys enjoy the songs with an unhinged comment or two on the side.

Since I've been talking about songs from the 1930s to the 1960s recently, perhaps some tunes here may come as a surprise as refreshing as a lemon soda on a 36 degree Celsius day. So, let's begin with those first.

class -- Natsu no Hi no 1993 (夏の日の1993) (1993)

I've been listening to this one a lot recently. It's the melody that gets me.

THE JAYWALK -- Nani mo Ienakute... Natsu (何も言えなくて…夏) (1991)

This song will always have a special place in my heart. While its cool vibe fits summer perfectly, I can listen to this in any season of the year.

Original Love -- Sunshine Romance (1993)

I actually discovered this via KKP, so I'll have to thank J-Canuck for this. I think, more than a fun summery tune, this is a bop that just lifts my mood in general.

Perhaps I just so happen to like summer releases from the 1990s, but my "90s J-Pop" playlist tends to get more attention between June and August. Those three tunes, in particular, are my go-tos. Anyways, shall we move on to our usual suspects?

Tadaharu Nakano (中野忠晴) -- Kougen no Uta (高原の唄) (1932)

 

Ever since J-Canuck mentioned the idea of Mr. Nakano in lederhosen going on a mountain hike in relation this this song, that image has been burned into my mind's eye. I honestly cannot tell you if I like that image or not. It could be kinda hot like Saitama right now, but also lederhosen. I don't think I can handle seeing his legs. Not that I don't want to. Just not like this.( *｀ω´)

Akira Matsudaira (松平晃) -- Minato Hanarete (港はなれて) (1933)

Mountains are a good respite from the heat, but so is the sea, so we have this breezy sailor ditty by Akira-san. 

One of the funniest things my friend, Ms. C, has added to the not-necessarily-canon lore behind my beloved fellas is that Akira-san is ditzy and jolly in a "head empty" sort of way, but that's what makes him adorable (she got that impression from some snapshots I shared early on). Honestly, the more I find out more about him and dig up photos of him, I can't help but agree, and it's in "Minato Hanarete" where he sounds exactly like that.

Bin Uehara (上原敏) -- Oya Koi Dochu (親恋道中) (1939)

Summer will now always remind me of Bin-san because of his death anniversary (29th July) and birthday (August 26th), as well as the memories of heading all the way up to his hometown of Odate, Akita, to pay tribute to him. Twice. Yes, I visited him this year too, and even met up with the lovely Uehara Bin Tsudoi (上原敏集い... Uehara Bin Get-Together). Also, somehow summer makes me feel like cranking up the matatabi mono. The tune that brings those two things together is "Oya Koi Dochu."

Haruo Minami (三波春夫) -- Ondo Ondo (温度音頭) (1980)

Summer also equals bon odori equals ondo, so, of course, we need our ondo ambassador, Haru-san. The temperatures have been sky high in Kanto and it is pain, yet I find it amusing in an ironic way when Haru-san happily goes, "Kyou wa seiten yokatta ne" (Isn't it great that it's a clear day?(°▽°)) Maa, ne. 

Yoshio Tabata (田端義夫) -- Amami Erejii (奄美エレジー) (1964)

Osu! Summer equals matatabi mono, equals ondo, equals sea, equals shima-uta. Therefore, we also have Batayan with a laidback Amami Oshima ballad.

Katsuhiko Haida (灰田勝彦) -- Jawa no Mango Uri (ジャワのマンゴ売り) (1942)

From a sub-tropical island, we head to a tropical one. I found that "Jawa no Mango Uri" actually has three versions: The original duet from 1942, Hai-Katsu's immediate postwar solo, and another solo likely re-recorded around the 60s or early 70s. I have gone with the latter because its slower, more grandiose arrangement and Hai-Katsu's languid delivery. It screams island paradise.

Also, today happens to be Hai-Katsu's birthday (20th August)! Happy 113th!･:*+.\( °ω° )/.:+

Hachiro Kasuga (春日八郎) -- Kiso wa Koishiya (木曽は恋しや) (1960) 

I just want to see Hachi dance to this. Is that too much to ask for?

From Mikasa, Issue 38

Bin Uehara — Harusame Zoushi (春雨草紙)

Bin-san may look the most plain out of my six fellows, but for some reason, I find him the most adorable. 

From the 1937 Polydor Records
archives. National Diet Library.

I'm no expert in prewar Japan record censorship, but I got a record censorship 101 through some kayo history books like Hiromu Nagahara's "Tokyo Boogie-Woogie" (no actual relation to the song) and my favourite Osakabe-Takehei Showa no Utagoe podcast. What I got out of them (correct me if I'm wrong) was that, since the 1934 revision of the Publication Law, records became subjected to censorship. Songs could be flagged as morally degenerate and a danger to public order with the silliest of reasons, but record companies and musicians could weasel their way around the censors with relative ease. Of course, the surveillance intensified from 1937 when the 2nd Sino-Japanese War began, and it only got worse when the Pacific War kicked in, but record censorship seemed to be nowhere near as harsh as that applied to literature. I usually find myself laughing and/or tilting my head in disbelief at the rationales behind some flagged pieces of music. But there is one that, as the kids say, gets me tilted. That song is Bin Uehara's (上原敏) "Harusame Zoushi"*. 

From the Koga Masao Museum of
Music's Spring exhibition (2022)

I first discovered "Harusame Zoushi" at one of the seasonal exhibitions in the Koga Masao Museum of Music a couple years back. This one room in the casa Koga section of the museum would have these special themed showcases that change every few months. On that particular visit, the theme was “Spring”, so stuff from ryukoka to J-pop that featured spring in its title would be on display. It just so happened that on this list of spring songs, there was "Harusame Zoushi", which I thought was a pretty sounding title. After all, it somewhat translates to "Spring shower notebook/journal". This was also around the time I started getting into Bin-san, so I was more than open to recommendations that weren’t gunka, which is actually quite hard since at least a third/half of his discography is gunka.

Upon listening to "Harusame Zoushi", I was quickly taken by Takeo Abe's (阿部武雄) composition with quite a strong traditional Japanese flavour. The smooth notes of koto and the tinkling bells are reminiscent of a light rain falling outside an ancient lodge and coating the plum or Sakura blossoms in a layer of crystals. What I think is the shamisen, or maybe just more aggressive koto playing, providing a harsher, raspy edge to the Abe-Take melody is like when some heavy droplets rain down from trees or the eves of a building. The beautiful melody is generally upbeat; I don't like the rain, but the tune makes the image of a downpour less dreary, hence it being one of my go-to rainy day tunes. Despite Abe-Take’s light and jaunty composition, Jugo Chichibu's (秩父重剛) words are contrastingly melancholic. They revolve around who I think is a ronin/wanderer who reluctantly broke off a romance. Bin-san's forlorn vocals convey the lingering affection our protagonist has for the woman he loves and the loneliness he feels because of the path he's chosen. Considering the title, I wonder if what we’re hearing are journal entries written by our protagonist and the spring rain outside his lodge reminds him of these bittersweet memories. I'd say it's pretty standard matatabi kayo topic, but it doesn't make the song any less enjoyable. 

You must be thinking, "Why was this song banned, then?" Well, Kiyomaro Kikuchi stated in "Showa Enka no Rekishi", the sentimentality of "Harusame Zoushi" was heavily frowned upon by the powers that be. Note that the song was released in 1938, which was soon after the 2nd Sino-Japanese War began and when censorship got tighter as the government/Internal ministry became more sensitive to such songs since they inspired weakness and irresponsible behaviour under the State of Emergency. I mean, fair enough, I guess, since "Harusame Soushi" is about an itinerant character pining for his lost love. And I suppose Bin-san's sad high tone didn't do the song any favour either. But the nail in the coffin was its music. According to Kikuchi's interpretation of the verdict, it not only showcased the weakness of a man, but reminiscent to caressing the body of a woman. Reading that for the first time, I actually vocalized, "WHO would've thought that?" Certainly not me!! It got me thinking: Wouldn't that just reflect the inner mind of the record censor(s) and authorities for thinking that? I'm looking at you, Chikagoro Ogawa (小川近五郎) - the head of the small record censors bureau. Get your mind out of the gutter, geez... I don't know why, but "Harusame Zoushi" getting flagged always gets me worked up.

Wild ban verdicts aside, since there are copies of "Harusame Zoushi" floating about, it can be concluded that it received the sales ban order some time after hitting the shelves unlike "Tarinai Song", another controversial ditty I covered a little while back. Personally, I think "Harusame Zoushi" is a song that matches Bin-san’s vocal quality, so I feel that it could've at least become a middling hit. How regrettable, but it came out during some dark times, so it can't be helped. But with that sort of record censorship being a thing of the past (correct me if I'm wrong), at least it can be fully appreciated for what it is now. 

Y'know, me thinking that Bin-san sounded so sweet and adorable when singing "Harusame Zoushi" would've probably made the censors more firm in their decision to ban it. 

ポリドール月報3月（昭和13）
National Diet Library archives

*I'm not sure if the kanji here meaning "Spring rain" is pronounced as "Shun-u" or the more common "Harusame". Soushi refers to those old booklets with pictures with some word/written story accompaniments. Noelle from 7/3/24: The title of this song could likely be pronounced as “Harusame Zoushi”. J-Canuck had put up a “What’s that title called” bulletin on Twitter and Showa enthusiast Tadaaki Kitakawa suggested that it could be “Harusame” since it’s more natural and there’d been pieces of literature that use this pronunciation, like “Harusame Monogatari” from the early 1800s. I’m inclined to agree. I'd been reading the title as "Harusame...", but I did have doubts as I kept associating it with the glass noodles and the fact that the title is four consecutive kanji, hence me going with "Shun-u" in my first edition of this article.

*Noelle from 8/3/24: I'd Tweeted out the promotional image above for the song and music memorial researcher Yuta Inoue kindly looked it up on the JASRAC site. Turns out it is officially called "Harusame Zoushi". The case is solved!! For those who'd seen this in draft stage and the first edition, you'd know that this article's title transformed many times: Harusame Soushi > Shun-u Soushi > Harusame Soushi > Harusame Zoushi. My goodness, what a learning journey it's been for me for just ONE song's TITLE. At least I know what one of my favourite Bin-san songs is really called. I greatly appreciate the input of those who've helped me figure it out(´人` ).‪‪ Incidentally, Inoue is also the person whom I knew about Bin-san's fan activities through. 

Noelle's Favourite Artists 2023 (我が推し達)

If you have Spotify, December is the time when Spotify Wrapped comes out. For those who do not have Spotify, this is basically a zany little summary of your most listened to songs and artists for the year. It even goes as far as notifying you how much play time you've had in total. As one who now sees Spotify as an indispensable item, I have undoubtedly used it a lot, mainly for my ryukoka dives and certain singers from the prewar era. For others, I would've already had their works downloaded through the wonders of CD ripping and YouTube to MP3 converters. So, in a way, my Spotify Wrapped wasn't fully accurate. Nevertheless, when flipping through my highlights, I came across this:

This was the prelude to showing one's Top 5 songs, but I've never been more called out. Spotify was surely on to something, though, because in just this one year I've added three more fellows to my list of favourites. My shelf has gotten way more crowded than anticipated and I don't know if that's a good thing. But sly jabs from Spotify aside, since it's indeed that wrap-up time of year, I would like to do a comprehensive list of my current fixations. My past few articles have been rather info-heavy, so I wanted to do a "brain-off" piece where the only thing I'll be doing in the entirety of this piece is talk about how much I like a handful of singers (you have been warned). Along with that, I'll also include a song each that would be relatively obscure but still greatly enjoyed by me.

Without further ado, let's begin from the one who's at the very top of my list. 

1. Hachiro Kasuga (春日八郎) -- Wakasa Umare (若狭生れ) (1968)

I always thought many of Hachi's less popular works were some of his best, like "Wakasa no Umare" (Born in Wakasa) and "Irie no Machi" (入江の町...Town of Irie). In fact, these songs, respectively the A-side and B-side of the same record (shown above), are both within my Hachi Top 5. I love "Irie no Machi," but it's "Wakasa Umare" that steals the show. Unfortunately, I can only offer you guys a very short snippet of it from Bilibili, and you can check it out by clicking here. It showcases one and one-thirds of the full song's four stanzas, so it probably won't be that hard to imagine what the whole thing is like. But because I immediately fell in love with its mellow oriental-yet-bossa-nova sound in just that single minute of play time, it was imperative that I hear the full version for myself. However, despite being an A-side, I think "Wakasa Umare" only ever appeared in a Hachi full discography CD collection once and it's never appeared on YouTube. What's wild is that the B-side  appears in albums and is easily available online. So to make sure I didn't lose my mind, I ended buying the "Wakasa Umare" record just so I could satisfy my curiosity. I'd never been more pleased to hear the full version of a song.  

(*´艸`)

2. Haruo Minami (三波春夫) -- Sado no Koi Uta (佐渡の恋唄) (1963)

Ah, yes, I'll never forget that Kohaku clip of "Sado no Koi Uta" (Sado Love Song). Haru-san was passionate in his craft. Haru-san was intense in his delivery. But this video made me more or less certain that, under that professional surface, Haru-san was hot stuff and knew it. And showed it. What made his flamboyant performance ever more alluring was the Sado Okesa-inspired dramatic score to "Sado no Koi Uta," which felt like it was sharp and mysterious enough for him flaunt his style.

3. Bin Uehara (上原敏) -- Oiwake Dochu (追分道中) (1939)

If Hachi conveys forlornness and loneliness in a relatively Western style, Bin-san does so in a strongly Japanese one. An instance of this is in "Oiwake Dochu" (Oiwake Travels), a matatabi mono based on the yakuza Kira no Nikichi. It's in relatively mournful pieces like this one that demands a considerable amount of kobushi from him where I feel Bin-san's gentle minyo-based high-tone shines the brightest. It makes him sound so sad and pitiful, yet for some reason that I can't explain, I also find it cute (?)... That is certainly just a me thing and I'd be genuinely surprised if anyone else saw it that way.

4. Katsuhiko Haida (灰田勝彦) -- Tasogare no Hakage ni (たそがれの葉陰に) (1948)

Hai-Katsu may be the most high energy of the singers I know, but he actually has many warm and cozy tunes. As he croons such soft numbers, his smooth tenor sounds like a gentle whisper that can untangled one's jangled nerves (*´ω`*). I now certainly appreciate his yodeling ability and think some of his baseball-themed anthems are pretty inspiring, but it's the baseball-crazed crooner's calm side that really speaks to me. "Tasogare no Hakage ni" (In the Shadows of the Trees at Twilight) is a song of this sort. His quiet delivery complements the bossa nova jazz melody nicely, bringing to mind the urban autumn foliage in the late afternoon sun. It was a tune I couldn't do without this Fall season and I think it still holds up as we move into winter. 

The song comes in at the 2:51 mark.

5. Yoshio Tabata (田端義夫) -- Ame no Yatai (雨の屋台) (1950)

Ame ame ame dayo ohairi yo onee-chan (It's rainin', it's pourin'. C'mon in, missy)

Sora wo nirandatte (demo) yamikonashi sa (Not like glaring at the sky's gonna stop it!)

Osu! No words can describe how much I love "Ame no Yatai" (Stall in the Rain). I've heard this one's a fan favourite that's often overlooked by mainstream media, which is a shame considering how fun of a little ditty it is. The original is of a languid pace reminiscent of those wistful times you watch the rain pour outside and hope it goes away soon. It has its merits, but it's the later-day rendition of "Ame no Yatai" that I love so much. Chirpy and upbeat in arrangement, the brassy twang of the electric guitar takes center stage and Batayan's delivery here is more informal, even a little cheeky. It just encapsulates the singer that is Batayan perfectly. Tamaranai (Can't get enough of it), as Takehei from "Osakabe-Takehei Showa no Utagoe" (刑部たけ平の昭和の歌声) would say. I don't really like the rain, but listening to "Ame no Yatai" never fails to brighten the day... I like the second stanza best (,,・ω・,,).

6. Tadaharu Nakano (中野忠晴) -- Yogiri no Minato (夜霧の港) (1932)

Sue wa namida to naru uta naredo (It's end turns to tears; But if it could turn to song)

Semete uta wa nya taeraryouka (At least in song, it becomes more bearable)

Finally, the most recent addition to my list, Mr. Nakano. His funny jazz and suave tango sides are the most appealing to me, but I think his Meiji/Taisho enka side is not something that throw aside either. Mr. Nakano's debut song "Yogiri no Minato" (Harbour in the Night Fog) showcased this and was quite a stark departure from what I'd previously known him for. Yet its carefree and simple melody very quickly latched on to my brain and it's become an earworm ever since. There was just something about the deliberate and hearty yet forlorn way he conveyed the words in that old enka-like style that I really liked... Tamaranai... I've been listening to that podcast way too much. I'd consider this the song that managed to nudge Mr. Nakano into favourites territory.

Hachi, Haru-san, Bin-san, Hai-Katsu, Batayan, Mr. Nakano. 

Six of them. Geez, Noelle. 

From what I heard from a good friend who's into Japanese pop idols, it seems to be custom to only have one oshi and be fully dedicated to the one. Well, I've certainly disregarded that, haven't I? To be completely honest, it's hard to give them all the same amount of love, but I love them all the same anyways. I promise (; ﾟ ωﾟ). They're all unique in their own ways, but I've concluded that there are three overarching factors that determine who gets on the list. I actually picked my brain and figured this out when another of my buddies challenged me to explain and discuss this matter analytical paper style some time ago. Breaking down the process and putting it into objective word was admittedly an odd experience. Nevertheless here is how my monke brain works and the determining factors are as follows:

1. I must like his voice very much. A voice good for listening to everyday at any time for prolonged periods, and conveys genuine-sounding emotion. 

2. I must like more than four of his songs. Anything less means I only like the song(s), not the singer himself.

3. I must find him physically attractive to some degree. I think this is self-explanatory, but the visual aspect boosts the aural experience. 

(Note: I use “he/him” because I only pick male singers as a personal preference.) 

Of course, other individual aspects come into play as well and it's more than just these broad factors. But, needless to say, the six fellows check these main, baseline criteria. The simple conclusion: You know fans of K-pop idols or aidoru? That's me, but my oshi are these singers from the Showa 10s to the Showa 30s, but that in no way hinders my oshi katsu (fan activities). If you're in Japan and you ever come across someone taking a photo of a monochrome portrait of/with a dapper man against scenery or whatnot, that person will likely be me... 

All that said, I’d say that this year has been one heck of a year when it comes to my foray with enka and kayokyoku. Indeed, I now have six fellows I swoon over. But I feel that in this process, my musical palette has expanded considerably, particularly in the realm of prewar to immediate postwar popular songs. Three-quarters of them are from the prewar generation, after all. This was greatly supplemented by having to actually study the inner-workings of this world for school research via books and whatever material I could get my hands on. There was also coming to enjoy the hilarious yet greatly informative "Osakabe-Takehei Showa no Utagoe" and giving music events a shot. With the exception of gunka and certain gunkoku kayo (personal principle), all these have allowed me to appreciate and enjoy the styles and quirks of the various songwriters and singers from this era I wouldn't usually have. Heck, I went from hating a singer to completely going head-over-heels for him! This year, I feel like I've learned so much, but I know that I have so much more to learn. 

As the saying goes, "Uta wa yo ni tsure, yo wa uta ni tsure" (Music will go with the times, the times will go with music). I can say with certainty that this list will change when my taste in music inevitably changes and it'll be interesting to see how it will when it happens. As it is, so much has changed in the past almost ten years. 2014 Noelle who just got into enka would be perturbed by this list. 

P.S. This year, I've also had wonderful opportunities to write about and present about some of the artists who are dearest to me, both in academia and mass media. I never thought I'd ever be able to do so, so I've never been more grateful for these chances. As best as I can, I aim to feature more of my fellows in the very near future. My biggest project will showcase the one at the very top of my list. Honestly, it's daunting and I had my doubts in the beginning. But to dedicate my Master's thesis entirely to Kasuga was a major reason for choosing the graduate school path, and so I will do my best to give him the attention he deserves. I'm due to write it next year, which also happens to be his centenary. What are the odds, huh? Hacchan, otaigai ni gambarimashou.

Omae ga nakushita shiawase wa (These hands will surely reclaim)

Kono te de kitto tori kaesu (The happiness you lost)

Motto sugare yo tsumetai yubi da (Just hang on. Those cold hands)

Ore no makoto de atatamete (Will be warmed by my sincerity)

Nidoto nakaseru nidoto nakaseru ashita ni shinai (There won't be a tomorrow where I'll make you sad again)

Taro Shoji & Bin Uehara -- Naki Warai no Jinsei (泣き笑ひの人生)

Oh, boy, these past few months have been a doozy. Even though the season has changed to my favourite one, there were just so many events taxing on the mental health both in and out of school that has left me exhausted. But, as it turned out, when your classmates are all grey and your professors can only give the smile of pain (among many other examples around me), I knew I wasn't the only one going through it. On the plus side, I came out of it in one piece and at least autumn break's here for some respite. But in times like this, my encouragement songs have never been more helpful, their encouraging messages is giving me that extra morale boost. One of those songs has been "Naki Warai no Jinsei" (A life of tears and laughter).

 

When I was young, Mom would always rattle off the phrase, "If you fall, pick yourself up," in Mandarin. It was meant to get me, an insolent child who cut up her knees ever so often from running amok, to not cry when being patched up. It worked, and years down the road the mantra still holds up in the context of everyday life events when something doesn't go all that smoothly and you figuratively fall on your face. To pick yourself up no matter how many times you falter is a sentiment that I feel forms the core of enka and the kayo that came before it. Nevertheless, it was a pleasant surprise to hear "Naki Warai no Jinsei" beginning with a phrase that echoed my mother's words: 

Nanatsu koronde yatsu wa okite (Fall seven times, get up eight times)

I believe this originates from the four-character phrase, "Shichiten hakki" (七転八起), literally meaning seven tumbles, eight rises. Uttering those words was the statuesque Taro Shoji (東海林太郎) in his duet with fellow Polydor Records junior Bin Uehara (上原敏). Released in April 1938, "Naki Wari no Jinsei" was penned by Kinya Shimada (島田磬也) and composed by Keio Iida (飯田景応). A collaboration every ryukoka would dream of. But with war already in the offing, singer collabs within the same company were exceedingly common, from duets to chorales. I reckon it's got to do with inspiring national unity for better or for worse... It did make for some dream collaborations like this one, though.

On that note, I actually came across this duet when I was starting to get into Bin-san's stuff and chose him as the subject for one of my senior year papers on media theory. Specifically, I was looking for some of his works that would've possibly inspired optimism and nationalism in its listeners during the late 1930s, i.e. when the Second Sino-Japanese War began and the Pacific War loomed overhead. Long story short, was one of the three songs I picked for analysis, with part of the reason being the quoted phrase. But what does the rest of the song say? From my understanding, we have an exchange between our two protagonists played by Taro and Bin-san, the former, the older of the two, taking on the wiser, more seasoned role, mirroring reality. I'm not exactly what they're supposed to be, but I think they could be wandering nagashi or street musicians. Clearly, it's not the easiest lifestyle and Bin-san's character meekly admits to the strain it causes him. Taro's character, while mostly compassionate, berates his junior with the following:

Shoji: Yowane hakuna yo sumanu janai ka (Don't complain. It's pitiful.)

          Omoe senjo no suwamono wo (Think of the heroes on the battlefield.)

Uehara: Souda. Wakatta. Kyou kara ore mo (Yes, I understand. From now)

             Umare kawatte gambaru ze (I'll turn myself around and work hard.)

Even though "Naki Warai no Jinsei" takes a nationalist turn towards the second half, which you can sort of see in this third stanza, chunks of Shimada's words are particularly resonant in any occasion, such as in this exchange. Honestly, when I'm down and I hear Taro's admonishment (minus the "Omoe..." bit), Bin-san's response becomes mine and it reaffirms my resolve to overcome any obstacle. In the last stanza too, in a paraphrase of the title when Taro goes, "Nake yo, nake, nake, naitara warae" (Cry now, cry and cry. After that, smile), it oddly validates any feelings of sadness and it does turn that frown upside down. 

I can't imagine the number of times I've listened to "Naki Warai no Jinsei" over the past few months and that number is sure to go higher in the coming terms. But it's oddly reassuring to have these two bespectacled Akita natives spurring me on with some familiar encouraging words.

*As a side note, if you're wondering why "笑ひ" is pronounced as "Warai" and not "Warahi," I believe it's because the older writing system was used. In modern day writing it would've been written as "笑い."

Gosanke Imagined: Senzen Polydor Sanba Garasu（戦前ポリドール三羽烏）

I've noticed that J-Canuck has been putting out some "Gosanke Imagined" articles featuring potential trios/quartets in the Japanese music world that should/could have been but never were. Naturally, I wanted to hop on that train and bring out some of my imagined Gosanke (御三家) too. The first I will put up is what I'll call the Senzen Polydor Sanba Garasu, or the Prewar Three Ravens of Polydor Records. 

Our 3 fellows are Taro Shoji (東海林太郎), Bin Uehara (上原敏), and Yoshio Tabata (田端義夫). This was just as much a fan-picked trio (considering Bin san and Batayan) as it most probably was an actual trio, albeit one not formally named. As the title suggests, they were major stars from Polydor Records, particularly in the late 1930s. I went with calling them ravens since it seemed like the common term used when referring to a trio of male stars back in the early Showa era, like the Sengo Sanba Garasu (戦後三羽烏). As an aside, Polydor was one of the big 5 record companies in the prewar era, along with Victor, Columbia, Teichiku, and King. I think that can help one see the scale of our trio's presence in the pre-WWII music scene.

Shoji was the oldest and first to debut in 1933. This was followed by Uehara, who was 10 years his junior and debuted in 1936. Tabata, the youngest and 11 years Uehara's junior, debuted in 1938.  Besides hailing from the same company and reaching stardom in record time, they shared a couple of other commonalities. For one, they all weren't music school graduates and thus not classically trained, the latter being a desired trait among pop singers at the time. Two, their biggest hits from the 1930s were mostly matatabi mono, or songs that featured samurai, ronin, or yakuza. This all the more cemented Polydor Records as the company that prided itself with more Japan-themed songs among its competitors, who leaned a little more towards the Western sound. It was for these reasons that my song selection will feature a matatabi mono from each of our 3 gentlemen. Each of these songs features a different real life yakuza figure who often appear in rokyoku and other traditional Japanese narrative arts. 

Taro Shoji -- Akagi no Komori Uta (赤城の子守唄) (1934)

This was Shoji's first smash hit from 1934 and it featured Asataro Itawari (板割浅太郎), a yakuza who took his nephew under his wing after killing his uncle out of duty to his boss, the big wig Chuji Kunisada (国定忠治). Big yikes. Apparently, Shoji himself wasn't familiar with the story often told by the likes of rokyoku stars at the time of recording.

Bin Uehara -- Tsuma Koi Dochu (妻恋道中) (1937)

Ah, yes, dear Bin san. "Tsuma Koi Dochu" was his first hit from 1937. The character featured here was Kira no Nikichi (吉良の仁吉), who went on a mission to kill someone at the orders of his master. The catch was that this someone happened to be his wife's brother. But, duty above compassion, and so Kira leaves his wife to fulfill his mission. Fun fact, it wasn't known if the real Kira was even married, so the narrative that included his wife was simply for drama's sake.

Yoshio Tabata -- Otone Tsukiyo (大利根月夜) (1939)

Osu! 

Batayan's foray into matatabi mono probably began with this massive hit, "Otone Tsukiyo" from 1939, which featured the hapless Miki Hirate (平手造酒). I talked about the talented swordsman-turned-yakuza in my article on Haruo Minami's (三波春夫) "Otone Mujou" (大利根無情) some time back, so I won't dwell too much on it. But the grander, more dignified air that Batayan tune exudes seems to highlight Hirate's past glory before his spiral into degeneracy. Most matatabi mono that about real yakuza figures up to this point in the Showa era usually centered around the above mentioned Kunisada, Kira, as well as Shimizu no Jirocho (清水次郎長) and Mori no Ishimatsu (森の石松). But "Otone Tsukiyo" likely set a precedent of having Hirate's tragedy be conveyed in popular song. 

To round things off, here's some extra trivia about our trio:

1. Tabata debuted while still a teenager (he was 19 at the time), which was still somewhat of an anomaly for singers at the time. As you may have noticed in the photos above, he also shaved his head when he debuted and I'm not sure why (yet). But it's Batayan, so I'm not surprised by his hijinks anymore. Perhaps he simply wanted to mark the start of a new journey?

2. Shoji and Uehara were both from Akita Prefecture, were both university graduates, and were both white-collared salarymen before they entered the world of music. That's in addition to the aforementioned musical similarities. Let's not forget that they looked vaguely alike, especially with those round glasses. But I heard that Mr. Taro (yes, I'm calling him that from now on) was the joker who loved his Dad jokes while Bin san was the more serious one.

As usual, Kiyomaro Kikuchi's "Showa Enka no Rekishi" was my info source.

Visiting Bin Uehara (上原敏に会いに行く）

ビンさん、約束の通りに会いに来ましたよ。

This will be a long Bin san appreciation post, so buckle up, folks.

For my summer vacation mini trip, I'd decided to head up to Akita. This part of Tohoku wasn't high on my list of go-to places - I'd actually wanted to go to the neighbouring Aomori. But cementing my decision to visit the prefecture rich with cultural heritage this summer was none other than Bin Uehara (上原敏). Bin san's memorial plaque in Odate city was a spot I knew I had to visit some time, but having done projects on him and his death anniversary coming up, I felt like the time was now. And so, up north I went in late July.

But before we get into that, I don't think I've given Bin san a proper intro on KKP, so I'll do so here for some background info on the bespectacled singer. This intro is brought to you by the following: Kiyomaro Kikuchi's (菊池清麿) "Showa Enka no Rekishi", Masato Mori (毛利眞人) and Yuki Kobari (小針侑起) from the album liner notes in "Oya Koi Dochu Uehara Bin 1936-1943", the introduction in Odate Museum, and the J-Wiki : 

From the Odate Museum.

Uehara was born as Rikiji Matsumoto (松本力次) on 26th August 1908 in Odate city, Akita. He learned the violin from a young age and honed his singing skills from music teacher Aira Owada (大和田愛羅) when he moved to Tokyo to attend Senshu University. He didn't pursue music despite his love for it and joined the sales department of Wakamoto Pharmaceuticals in 1934 after he graduated. But opportunity to enter the world of kayo came a knocking when Polydor Records' Jugo Chichibu (秩父重剛) scouted Matsumoto at a baseball game between both companies' teams. Considering his love for baseball, the fact that Matsumoto got his dream career via his favourite sport was quite the amusing coincidence. He made his debut as Bin Uehara (combination of author Bin Ueda (上田敏) and actor Ken Uehara (上原謙)) in July 1936 with "Tsukimi Odori" (月見踊り), an ondo duet with geisha singer Kiyoko Shinbashi (新橋喜代子). Following which came smash hits starting with "Tsuma Koi Dochu" (妻恋道中), "Ruten" (流転), and "Uramachi Jinsei" (裏町人生), and he was loved for his sentimental tenor with a rustic, minyo flavour. He was described as a serious but earnest individual - my impression is that he seemed rather... square, but by no means is that bad at all.

"Tsuma Koi Dochu"

Despite his success, by the early 40s, he intended to throw in the towel and start a ranch in Chiba with his wife when he realised that the harsh recording and performing schedule was taking a toll on his health and voice, and that his popularity was declining in light of the war. Unfortunately, the ranch plan never came to pass as he was drafted into the infantry in 1943 (possibly by mistake) and shipped off to Papua New Guinea, where he never returned. Some say malaria got him, some say an air raid. Maybe both. I was reading about this in visceral detail via Kikuchi's fantastic summary just to make sure I was leaving no stone unturned for my paper and presentation. At 7am. Needless to say, reading about one's favourite singer's tragic end on the morning rush hour train is not advisable. 

Oh, Bin san, you poor thing (;-;).

Odate from Keijo Park

Despite his short life and career, Uehara's legacy lives on, albeit on a much smaller scale despite (still) being overshadowed by fellow Akita native and Polydor Records senior, the great, still-like-a-lamp-post Taro Shoji (東海林太郎). His hits have become enka-kayo standards today, and a plaque was erected in his memory in his hometown in 1976. The monument stands in the historical Keijo Park which overlooks the town. Not only does it relate Bin san's life and achievements, but it also serves as the "Tsuma Koi Dochu" music plaque. Bin san doesn't have a grave stone (as far as I know), so this plaque seems to serve as a stand-in. It's where Uehara fans regularly gather to pay their respects to the singer on the morning of his death anniversary on 29th July in the annual Ruten Ki (流転忌... Ruten Memorial... I'm not too sure on the last kanji's pronunciation), among many other tribute activities, according to Yuta Inoue's (井上裕太) findings. If you can read Japanese, Inoue did articles detailing memorial activities and sites dedicated to various musicians including Bin san - interesting stuff. 

On an even smaller scale, I reckon there are also folks like me trying to showcase Uehara and his works through other outlets. In my case, while I'm still stumbling around with my work, I wanted to show that Uehara was a significant figure in the world of kayo and worth remembering; he wasn't just "Shoji Taro No.2". It was part of the reason why I chose him as the center of my past couple of music-related school projects. I toiled over them, especially my recent one, and I don't know if they really amounted to much (besides grades I can acknowledge), but I guess I just wanted to make Bin san proud some how.

"Ruten"

Anyways, on the note of Inoue, I believe he was the same person whose tweet I saw on the Twitter (...*sigh* X) grapevine about the Ruten Ki when I was planning my pilgrimage. That made me determined to travel all the way to Odate on 29th July. I was curious and wanted to know what the current Bin san fan demographic was like. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to catch the memorial as it was held at 9am - my train to Odate was at 9.44am from Akita city at the earliest, and it was a 1 hour 45 minute ride (one way) plus a 15 minute bus ride to the park. Slightly regrettable, but I made it to Odate at around noon nonetheless. 

Odate (大館市), north of Akita city, is by no means miniscule. It's also the home of the world renowned Akita Inu and Japan's best tasting poultry, the Hinai chicken. There were some tourists, local and foreign. Yet, like most countryside towns in the mountains I've been to, barely anyone roamed the streets. Perhaps the unseasonably high temperatures (still better than Tokyo and Saitama) had most taking refuge indoors. Keijo Park, the site of the Odate castle ruins, was also mostly empty save for a a grand total of 2 people sitting in the shade and a group of teens taking school group photos. It was quiet. But I appreciated the quaint afternoon atmosphere.

"Hatoba Katagi"

For the occasion, I'd been listening to Bin san's stuff the whole journey there and had "Hatoba Katagi" (波止場気質) playing as I neared the park. This was the song that made me aware of his existence and the lyrics are some of the most bittersweet I've heard, especially with the singer's gentle yet forlorn delivery. It ended just as I stood before the plaque. I joked with my friends over a naan that I'll cry when I "see" him, but that clown statement *almost* became more than a statement. All the more so when I said, "Hi, Bin san. I've come to see you as promised." Oh, boy, that still gets me.

But this was why I was glad for the near empty park and for missing the Ruten Ki. I wanted quiet time to pay my respects to one of my beloved artists and tell him about how my projects on him fared. Doing so on his death anniversary only made it more impactful. As you would've seen in the previous pictures, I also brought my bromide along for the ride. Just because.

Here are some close-ups of the front with his introduction and the first stanza of "Tsuma Koi Dochu". The back was in the shade and harder to discern the carved words, but it detailed how he fell victim to the war. Apparently, folks will sing "Tsuma Koi Dochu" and "Ruten" during the Ruten Ki. I naturally went for "Hatoba Katagi" and "Shunkoden" (春香伝) first.

"Shunkoden"

After saying my piece, I went to do a little sight-seeing around town before my train back. Since I had bromide Bin san with me, I decided to do what the young'uns have been doing as of late: Oshi-katsu, which refers to doing activities revolving around your favourite artist or character. Technically, me visiting his memorial plaque is one such activity, but another includes taking photos of your favourite personality's acrylic stand, plushie, etc. against the backdrop of something. So, that's what I did. At the Akita Inu museum and the Ishida Rose Cafe. With Bin san's bromide... Look, it took me 500 years to get to the town and I planned the trip around this one specific day, so I wanted to be as extra as I could. This brand of oshi-katsu was a first for me, but I have a feeling it won't be the last because it was oddly... fun? (Not gonna lie, I feel slightly guilty for the extra special treatment I gave to Bin san compared to Hachi and Haru san... But my boi deserved it.) 

It was a fulfilling day, I'd say. Rather, it was cathartic. And I headed back to Akita with a feeling of accomplishment. Next, I intended to go check out Akita city's Taro Shoji museum. While he's not one of my favourites, I still respect him considerably and I figured it'd be good to have a look see. Or so I thought.

Remember Inoue? As expected, he gave an update on the earlier Ruten Ki on Twitter (I can't with X). But on the next day (30th), he added a tweet about a visit to the Odate Museum (大館郷土博物館)... which had some Bin san artefacts on display... To go, or not to go? That was my question. The 9.44am Odate-bound train had already left. Taro museum, then? But it felt like a crime to choose that over the one with some Uehara stuff on my Bin san tribute trip. It'll be a "Shoji Taro No.2" moment! The audacity. I could NEVER. 

So, I jumped on the 11.40am train back to Odate.

Thinking it'd save some time over taking the only bus that'll take me only half of the way there at the time, I decided to walk the 40 minutes there. It took me through the fields of the town and I got to appreciate what Akita's nature and farmlands. But I never felt more like a melting popsicle until then.

Mt. Ho-Oh (Hōō) in the back with a "大" (for Odate... 大館) carved into it.

Somehow, I made it to the museum without melting into a puddle and I found what I was looking for. Indeed, as per Inoue's tweet, there was only 1 record (an "Ore wa Funanori" (俺は船乗り) record), Uehara's script from a movie he appeared in ("Yaji Kita Kaidan Dochu" (弥次喜多怪談道中)), and 2 bromides (1 signed). But I was happy nonetheless. You don't get to see Bin san artefacts every day.

Also, I always say that Bin san looked the most ordinary and plain out of my 5. Again, not to say that it's bad. He looked quite cute with that little grin and, somehow, it's that aforementioned serious nature and simple charm that makes him... like an adorable guinea pig to me. Particularly a brown, short-haired one that looks like a potato. But that tuxedo shot was uncharacteristically spicy. Marubell, please, just print this one. I only ask for just this one. Please.

With Bin san pilgrimage II done, I checked out as much of the larger-than-expected museum as I could before my last bus (thank goodness there was one scheduled) back into town for my last train to Akita city. Besides the famous dog and chicken breeds, Odate is home of mage wappa, the art of bent woodwork. Basically the woodworker would take an extremely thin slice of wood and turn it into rounded objects, most notably bento boxes and buckets. It used to be a mining town as well, but one with quite a dark history. I shall not go into that here, but you can look up the "Hanaoka Incident" (花岡事件) if you're keen. It is grim and controversial, but I'm glad the town clearly noted what happened without any skewed viewpoints.

In the end, I didn't have the time for Shoji's museum, but I did check out his statue and memorial plaque near Senshu Park on my first day, so I may do a short Shoji piece featuring those. Next time, I'll make sure I have time to call on Shoji.

Overall, I enjoyed my time in Akita and learned a lot more about the northern prefecture than I thought I would've since this short summer vacation essentially turned into 200% Bin san oshi-katsu time. Even my Hachiro Kasuga (春日八郎) and Haruo Minami (三波春夫) pilgrimages weren't to that extent - and I've been to both places twice! But I guess that was the idea...? I don't know. Perhaps it's because it's exceedingly rare to find anything on Bin san compared to the others due to his short life and the earlier time period in which he was active, so the fact that there were even some things was enough to make me happy. Perhaps it was also because his tragic end really tugged at my heartstrings. And perhaps because there was way more emotional significance attached to the trip. Either way, I'm glad that I could pay tribute and convey my message to him. And it was oddly fun to tour Odate and Akita city "with" him. I hope he'll be happy. And where ever he is, I hope he is at peace.

Nagasu namida wa koi janai

Honni (Bin san) no shiawase wo

Ureshii namida de inoru no sa

P.S. Inoue actually reached out and so graciously gave me a heads up on the Bin san memorial activities just recently. Turns out that the fan club heads to the local community center for a song fest after the Ruten Ki. That sounds like great fun. Maybe next summer...? I believe next year will be 80 years since Bin san's passing, so I wonder if there'll be special stuff planned... Ack, but next year is Hachi's centenary too!