Hello, I hope everyone's doing fine and keeping well in a time like this. I'm just about done with my autumn semester in university and I've washed my hands off those (somewhat) pesky research papers I'd been saddled with which is why I finally have the time to write for leisure.
On the note of research papers, while most of these assignments I've written thus far have been based in politics and doom and gloom, I had the opportunity to do something a little more... me this time around for my "Japanese Pop Culture" class. The prof had said that the paper could be on anything that related to Japan's Pop culture scene, so, would you like to take a gander at what I wrote about? :)
With much help from Christine Yano's "Tears of Longing" (2002), a documentary on two of my all time favourite enka veterans, and a bunch of abstract concepts I still have trouble comprehending, I managed to put together a piece on how enka relates to the Japanese collective memory. It's by no means a work of art and it'll most likely be read only by my professor, but I felt happy to have written about a genre that hasn't been explored extensively in academia (in the English language, at least). Since I had the freedom to more or less include what I wanted, I resolved to give a shoutout to the First Enka Singer, who often gets overshadowed by the Queen of Kayokyoku, Hibari Misora (美空ひばり). Understandably so, but Hachiro Kasuga (春日八郎) should get some recognition as well (because some of y'all might remember how much I love him). Of course, I did so with a legitimate reason as well. That being his magnum opus, "Wakare no Ippon Sugi" from 1955. I'd actually talked a little about "Wakare no Ippon Sugi" ages ago when I first became intrigued by such melancholic bokyo or homesick enka (you can check it out here). However, it took me until now to not only fully appreciate it, but also understand why it sits in the hallowed halls of enka fame decades after its release.
From the documentary with Hachi and fellow King Records star Michiya Mihashi (三橋美智也), "Wakare no Ippon Sugi" came out during the time when Japan's economy was getting back on track. That meant many left the rural areas for urban work; while deep in the city many would pine for their loved ones and the comfort and tranquility their countryside hometowns have, or, at least, so is their imagined, perfect version of it. And so, what composer Toru Funamura (船村徹) and lyricist Kimio Takano (高野公男) did was, in a sense, condense such feelings into the song, and have it even serve as a reminder to never forget one's roots no matter where one ended up. This struck a chord with many in such a plight and its popularity spawned many others with a similar vein. So, "Wakare no Ippon Sugi" not only reaffirmed Hachi's and Funamura's place in Japanese music history, but also could've brought its first listeners back to the time when they resonated with it most the moment the lonely introductory guitar chords hit their ears decades later. (Ack, I should've added this last bit into my paper....)
