Na Hoon-a (Nafuna) -- Minato Koi-uta (みなと恋唄)

 "He was active in Japan for over a decade, and was pretty popular in Osaka because of its large Zainichi Korean population!"

"I see. I only just found out about this singer today, though."

"You idiot... I have his fan club articles - I'll give them to you."

And that's how I got to know about the existance of South Korean trot* and enka singer Na Hoon-a (羅勲児/나훈아), or Nafuna (ナフナ). 

From 好っきゃねん！！羅勲児, the compilation
of the Japan Na Hoon-a fan club's (Ara Club 我羅
倶楽部) publications 

I had never been up to score on the activities of Korean enka singers. I knew there was an influx of them in from about the late 1970s to the 1990s, which seemed to begin with the immense popularity of Cho Yong-pil's (조용필) Pusan Ko e Kaere (釜山港へ帰れ). I also was aware of the spunky Kim Yon-ja (김연자) and her hearty vocals, since she was a constant fixture on kayo shows like (Shin) BS Nippon no Uta (日本のうた) and Kayo Concert (歌謡コンサート) back when I watched them religiously. But that was about where my knowledge ended... I should probably not tell that enka enthusiast this, lest he actually give me a knuckle to the head. In my defense, digging real deep into the 70s to 90s enka realm hadn't been my biggest priority. But I was aware that it was high time I went beyond my standard boundaries of the likes of Hachiro Kasuga and try something new. And what's newer than a Korean trot-enka singer I had completely no idea about?

The first song by Na that hit my ears had been Nidoto Koi Nado (二度と恋など), an electric kayo bop. The enka enthusiast had sung this at a karaoke recital I'd watched some weeks ago for want of something better to do that day, which was how I got around asking him about the Korean singer. After that, I went about sampling more of Na's works on YouTube and Spotify - mainly the Japanese tunes first, because I didn't (and still don't) know a sliver of Korean. That was when I stumbled upon Minato Koi-uta. 

Minato Koi-uta (Harbour Love Song) - as far as titles go, that's as enka as it gets. Acoustic guitar and accordion in the intro - yup, that's that quintessential 70s and 80s enka arrangement. But cutting through the rustic do-enka feel is the electronic beats and wavey effects that give the song a modern, almost new music edge. That interesting fusion arrangement, courtesy of Nobuyuki Sakuraba (櫻庭伸幸), alone was enough to perk my ears up. 

From what I gather from Na’s Wikipedia page (in English), Minato Koi-uta was released in February 1985. Written by lyricist Yoko Yamaguchi (山口洋子) and composed by Kosho Inomata (猪俣公章), both highly renowned enka-kayo songwriters in the second half of the Showa era, this seemed to have been Na’s first fully Japanese single. Yamaguchi writes the song in the perspective of a woman who pines for her lover, who's a sailor (or fisherman) and rarely returns to terra forma. While Yamaguchi's words paint a pitiful image of our protagonist, it's Na's impactful, heart-wrenching delivery that really drives home how much she is in love with the man.

Na in Nidoto Koi Nado sounds rather measured, but one can feel the pent up emotion bubbling just under the surface. Minato Koi-uta, perhaps in simply being a do-enka, had the guy pulling out all the stops - it's as though his heart was being twisted and ripped out by loneliness, frustration, and helplessness. Na's sudden-explosive-bursts-of-anguish singing style is contrary to what I've been listening to for several years, and it actually reminds me a little of Kiyoshi Maekawa (前川清), which is probably part of why it commanded my attention. Combined with the lower register he tapped into for this song... it's kinda hot. And, I mean, Na is also kinda hot, so there's that. 

Anyway, as far as I know for now, Na was born Choi Hong-gi in Busan (South Korea) on 11 February 1947. He began his career as a singer-songwriter in Korea in 1966, finding great success. However, he had only broken into the Japanese market in late 1984 after a concert in Osaka of that year, and released Minato Koi-uta with Teichiku Records the following year. Na would appear on Japanese media fairly regularly, fostering Korea-Japan cultural ties, and would even sing some of his works in both Japanese and Korean. He'd even been a guest on one of Hachi's radio shows, Kasuga Hachiro no Jinsei Banzai (春日八郎の人生バンザイ) in 1987. Apparently, the enka veteran had a good time discussing enka and trot, as well as sharing experiences in songwriting with the tenacious younger singer, who did both. On that note:

"Y'know your Tadaharu Nakano draft - Adding Butter to Miso Soup?"

"Yeah?"

"It reminded me of [Na] comparing trot and enka to kimchi and takuan."

"Oh, yeah, they are (can be) both made of radish."

What I really meant  by saying that at the time was that indeed both genres have their differences, the major one being the country of origin, yet having striking similarities, so I think I know where Na was going with the comparison. What a cool allegory! I did notice that several Korean trot-enka singers like Na sound a lot more dramatic and emotional, and thus sound more aggressive, than a lot of the popular local Japanese enka singers. I don't listen enough to trot to know if that's the norm, or if the likes of Na and the abovementioned Kim Yon-ja just roll that way, but it certain feels like that chili spice in kimchi that takuan lacks.

I can be quite stubborn when it comes to picking up music/book/film recommendations if they don't seem to align with my tastes on first glance. Na's style is quite intense and overwhelming, so I don't find myself going too far down the Na Hoon-a rabbit hole, but I like him more than I'd expected myself to. Fair play to you, enka enthusiast. Oh - if wasn't already apparent, the enka enthusiast had been a big fan of Na's since at least 1984, and did a lot to facilitate his activities in Japan.

*Trot, simply put, seems to be South Korea's answer to enka. Similar themes, highly dramatic and emotional singing styles, and somewhat similar-sounding melodies. Noelle from 17/4/26: I realised it was reductive to equate trot directly to enka. The more I look into it, the more I realise how broad it actually is. Some do sound like enka and ryukoka to me, but some sound like 70s to 80s pop songs, among other things. It sort of reminds me of the Kayokyoku and its vastness.

P.S. There was a theory that enka had originated in Korea - considering the similarities trot has with enka, it was inevitable. That became sort of a point of concern for the "Enka is the music of the Japanese" claim. However, that was eventually debunked by answers that go somewhere along line of, "The 'Father of Enka' Masao Koga only began to make enka (its prototype) when he returned to Japan," among other answers.

Mari Sono/Shinichi Mori/Hiroshi Itsuki -- Ryoujou（旅情）

 

Back in September, I posted up that All-Points Bulletin for Neff regarding some Chinese covers of songs that he couldn't quite identify. I believe that he was able to resolve most of the mystery songs thankfully. But I also remember while trying to help him out that I came across a few songs that may have been connected to the mystery ones but ended up nothing of the sort. Of course, I was disappointed but in the process, I was able to find some new kayo kyoku with their common denominator being a common title.

"Ryoujou" on Jisho.org talks about "the mood when traveling". And of course, travel is a big theme in kayo kyoku, notably as the action one takes when there's a need to get away from a problem, usually post-romantic in nature. The protagonists take trains and planes (not sure about automobiles, though) to some faraway place in Japan, away from Tokyo or Osaka (Tsugaru Strait is especially popular) or even overseas to mourn and/or reset those feelings.

Through Google, I even discovered some very specific terminology for that particular mood. Wanderlust was one word that I had already known but here are some of the others:

Wanderlust: A strong desire to travel and explore the world.

Eudaimonia: A state of intense happiness and contentment while traveling, when everything feels right.

Resfeber: The restless, anxious excitement that comes before a journey begins.

Strikhedonia: The joy of being able to say, "to hell with it!" and go on an adventure. 

Fernweh: The opposite of homesickness; an ache or longing for places you have never seen before.

Sehnsucht: A wistful yearning for something far-off and indefinable, or for travels past and future.

Where enka and kayo kyoku are concerned, I think perhaps Fernweh and Sehnsucht might be the traveling moods that match the feelings there, although the words themselves sound like alien crewmembers on the Enterprise on "Star Trek".

Anyways, let's begin with the first "Ryoujou" that was recorded by Mari Sono（園まり）for release as a single in June 1972 to commemorate her 10th anniversary in the music business. Quite the poignant kayo kyoku, this was written by Jun Hashimoto（橋本淳）and composed by Kyohei Tsutsumi（筒美京平）as the lyrics describe a woman who has either broken up or is on the verge of breaking up with her beau by flying off to Paris. It's the strings and what sounds like a harpsichord that give me the heavy sense of the melancholy here but I also have to note the deep horns that pop up as if the lady is about to take one major leap of faith.

Less than a couple of years later, enka veteran Shinichi Mori（森進一）released an album "Ryoujou" in March 1974. The title track was written by Kohan Kawauchi（川内康範）and composed by Kosho Inomata（猪俣公章）as a song of longing by a fellow who's looking upon a woman he's had feelings for. She hasn't reciprocated them and maybe she isn't even aware of them especially since she's probably just broken it off with another guy. It's a got a bit more brass and heart-on-a-sleeve emotion so I can put it between kayo kyoku and enka.

Then, we come to Hiroshi Itsuki's（五木ひろし）"Ryoujou" which was released much later in 1998. With lyrics by Reiji Mizuki（水木れいじ）, the singer himself came up with the melody. If there were such a thing as Itsuki Song, then his "Ryoujou" would be the class example with the haunting chorus, the seemingly tear-choked vocals and the wistful arrangement.

Shinichi Mori -- Koi ni Nakitai（恋に泣きたい）

 

In Asakusa, you can throw a rock anywhere and it's more than likely, you'll hit a bar...or something associated with Senso Temple nearby. Probably in some of those bars on any night, there may be someone crying in their beer since life is patently unfair.

Maybe that's what young enka singer Shinichi Mori（森進一）was trying to sing through his "Koi ni Nakitai" (Want to Cry at Love) which happens to be the B-side to his debut single from June 1966, "Onna no Tameiki" (女のためいき). Noelle Tham wrote about the beginning record for Mori over a decade ago, and listening to "Onna no Tameiki" myself, it's quite the melodic tipsy stroll through the bar-lined alleys of Asakusa, Ueno or Kabukicho.

Well, "Koi ni Nakitai" has that same laconic feeling of heartbreak and willingness to drink it all down with heavy quantities of alcohol. Perhaps not surprising since composer Kosho Inomata（猪俣公章）was behind the melody of both songs with Ichiro Tone（利根一郎）handling the lyrics for the B-side. There's this nice addition of accordion (and the sax, of course) as 18-year-old Mori was probably wowing listeners already with that famous gravelly voice which elicited tears from many.

Shinichi Mori -- Bokyo（望郷）

 

It's Monday once more on KKP and therefore I'd like to get some weird stuff off my chest. When I remember a very young Shinichi Mori（森進一）decades ago, I internally remarked that this enka singer basically looked like a Japanese Pavel Chekov from "Star Trek"; as if the USS Enterprise's beloved Russian had been merged in a transporter accident with his fellow bridge officer, Hikaru Sulu. Mori had that short stature, the pinchable cheeks and those adorable brown eyes. Not sure if he was quite as voluble as young Pavel, though.

Anyways, I found this No. 1 hit by Mori from Christmas Day 1970 titled "Bokyo" (Homesickness). It's one of the first enka songs to reach the top spot in the Oricon era (started in 1967 or 1968) although the melody and arrangement by Kosho Inomata（猪俣公章）has me also thinking of drowning one's tears in drink in a watering hole just like in any Mood Kayo tune (the sax helps). Jun Hashimoto's（橋本淳）lyrics talk of someone dearly missing the hometown and also that significant other left behind there. His gravelly voice sounds almost on the verge of tears. And if we're talking about sound effects, the sound of a train and the mournful woman's chorus really help with the homesick punch.

Most likely, there were a lot of people in the big cities of Japan who could relate which would explain its popularity. Over a year later, Mori's 18th single actually became the 9th-ranked single for 1971. Interestingly enough, a movie based on "Bokyo" would be produced in 1971 starring the singer himself as Shinichiro Morikawa（森川信一郎）. Not exactly the biggest leap in imagination when it comes to naming characters, but I hope it did well.

Shinichi Mori -- Fuyu no Tabi（冬の旅）

 

Yesterday's article on the rock band One Ok Rock fronted by Takahiro Moriuchi（森内貴寛）was partially sparked by the revelation through a commenter that his father was none other than enka singer Shinichi Mori（森進一）. He's someone I've known for decades because of his raspy voice and the fact that he kinda looked like a Japanese Ensign Chekov when he was much younger. 

Well, out of coincidence, when I was searching for some enka YouTube to show my enka-loving father, I just happened to come across a Mori tribute video, and though KKP has its fair share of his music, I hadn't known about his 28th single from October 1973, "Fuyu no Tabi" (A Winter Journey).

Filled with emotion as any enka tune should have, Mori was definitely the right singer for this one as he can be very heart wrenching with his vocals. This song created by lyricist Yu Aku（阿久悠）and composer Kosho Inomata（猪俣公章）is as bitter as can be, as a brokenhearted lover seethes angst, frustration and anger about the end of the two-year relationship and hopes that the former partner is as trapped in the existential trek in the cold as he is (freezing gusts of wind and a forlorn chorus start the ballad off). Yeah, no sweetness to this bitterness at all. "Fuyu no Tabi" reached No. 3 on the Oricon weeklies and ended up as the 23rd-ranked single by the end of 1974.

Fuyumi Sakamoto -- Noto wa Irankai ne（能登はいらんかいね）

 

"Uta Con"（うたコン）is once again going on a bit of a hiatus until April 1st but its final episode earlier tonight had some solemnity and poignancy since today is the 14th anniversary of the Tohoku Earthquake in 2011. In fact, much of the program was filled with songs in tribute and in support of the various areas that had been hit by natural disasters such as Fukushima and the Noto Peninsula which had suffered a major quake on New Year's Day 2024. Of course, Yoko Kanno's（菅野よう子）"Hana wa Saku"（花は咲く）was sung in full force.

Enka singer Fuyumi Sakamoto（坂本冬美）is a pretty frequent guest on shows such as "Uta Con", and up until last year, her go-to song seems to have been "Yozakura Oshichi" (夜桜お七), her hit single from 1994. However, with the Noto Peninsula earthquake last year, Sakamoto has been singing "Noto wa Irankai ne" (Don't We Need Noto?) in support of the victims of the quake for much of the past year. Written by Katsuki Kishimoto（岸元克己）and composed by Kosho Inomata（猪俣公章）, it's a very gentle go-touchi song that flows as smoothly as the many rivers that run through the area, although there is a little diversion of taiko drums in a festival atmosphere.

"Noto wa Irankai ne" was Sakamoto's 7th single from May 1990. It reached No. 13 on Oricon and ended up as the 83rd-ranked single for that year. However, I think it has received a second wind of popularity in the last several months and she sang the song on last year's edition of the Kohaku Utagassen for the second time.

Hachiro Kasuga -- Namida Machi (なみだ町)

Hachiro Kasuga's (春日八郎) voice was often described as a beautiful, resonant or strong high tone, but also sad. The "sad" quality, I've come to realise, is what can put people off his songs. 

I once heard a Michiya Mihashi (三橋美智也) fan say that as much as they tried to like Hachi, they simply couldn't - the more they listened to him, the more depressed they got. Hachi had depressing quality to his voice. Oddly enough, that's exactly how Michi's voice is to me, but that was the first time I'd heard such a critique of Hachi and I found it rather intriguing. And then, I recently got a book "Enka no Tatsujin" (演歌の達人) (2001) by Rinichi Sato (佐藤稟一), and the author described Hachi's style in a similar way, albeit with intense vocabulary that tested my painfully average reading skills to the limit. Sato described Hachi's voice as "bukimi" (不気味… eerie, ominous, unearthly), chilling to the heart, and akin to taking a peek into the depths of despair. The lyrics in his songs all tend to have a hollow loneliness to match those dark vocals. Sato did mean this in a relatively positive way, though.

I certainly agree that Hachi's vocals were often tinted with a shade of melancholy and longing, and they can cast a heavier atmosphere on his already sad songs. But I never felt like I was staring into a pit of despair when his delicate voice hit my ears. When I'm down, his voice, even when relaying some of his most melancholic works, doesn't make me feel worse or like a hollowed-out husk. Rather, it feels like he's sharing the pain and crying with me. That, ironically, makes his songs comforting (to me).

“Namida Machi” is the first song in this compilation.

One of those instances where this was felt was when listening to "Namida Machi" (Street/Avenue of Tears). Released in February 1969, I would describe as a pleasant, albeit orthodox (oh, geez, it has come to this*) bluesy Mood Kayo. The mid to late 1960s into the early 1970s was when Mood Kayo, particularly of this sort, was all the rage considering the explosive popularity of the husky-voiced Mori Shinichi (森進一) and Fuji Keiko (藤圭子) and their jazz-inspired numbers. Behind many of these anguish-filled hits like "Onna no Tameiki" (女のためいき) was the composer of "Namida Machi," the renowned Kosho Inomata (猪俣公章). So, it is of no surprise that his composition for Hachi here was of such a style. But unlike the likes of Mori and Fuji, Hachi doesn’t sound angry and upset. His sadness is the quiet sort, which his voice conveys.

The whine of the tenor saxophone creates a rather cold and lonely atmosphere in Inomata’s composition. Accompanying that is a languid rhythm reminiscent of a slow step: you're tired and don't feel like walking, but you still push yourself forward with feet dragging. And then we have Hachi's quiet-sad vocals. To Hachi’s frequent collaborator Hiroshi Yokoi's (横井弘) words, Kasuga relays pain and of a man alone after letting go of his lover; he tries to perk himself up at the local bar district, but to no avail, and instead ends up in the titular “street of tears.” Yet, seen in the last stanza, he still holds on to hope for a better tomorrow. I think Hachi expresses this forlornness to a T, his use of the falsetto only accentuates the mix of emotions, and it almost sounds like the main character is trying to hold back his tears. His vocals are what takes this pretty good... orthodox... Mood Kayo up a notch.

Hachi's songs, are by far, the ones that pull the most emotions out of me, generally through the message of encouragement. But I think "Namida Machi" is the song where there isn't the message of, “You can do it!" from Hachi, but more like "It's okay to be sad and cry sometimes." 

And I really feel that.

 

P.S. Okay, I know I didn't do a proper Hachi article for July, but I did talk about Hachi, his relation to one of the great Showa era composers Yoshi Eguchi (江口夜詩) and one of his covers in the article featuring Akira Matsudaira's (松平晃) "Isoge Horo Basha" (急げ幌馬車)  I shall assume that Hachi is fine with the arrangement.

*For some reason, the King Records staff, particularly lyricist and creative director Ryo Yano (矢野亮) loved using the word "orthodox" (written in katakana) to describe Hachi's songs in the late 1960s and early 1970s. The word used to rile me because of how frequently it was peppered into the singer’s album liner notes. But after being inundated with phrases like “orthodox enka” while working on a project, it’s beginning to enter my own lexicon and I am slightly worried.

Yukie Kawakami + Tsutomu -- Heart no Neji（ハートのねじ）

 

It was well over a decade ago when I first provided the article for aidoru Yukie Kawakami's（河上幸恵）1983 debut single "Blue Etranger"（ブルーエトランゼ）, and it struck me as being quite a refined song for a teenybopper singer. I rather compared the song with the type of music that pop chanteuse Mariko Takahashi（高橋真梨子）sang during that same period.

The other day, commenter YMOfan04 asked me about another single that Kawakami recorded in December 1984, "Heart no Neji" (Key to Your Heart), so I decided to check that one out as something that could be posted here as the aidoru's second KKP entry. Now to be fair, it's not just Kawakami but her and a robot named Tsutomu（ツトム）behind this much more conventionally upbeat and perky aidoru tune. The singer's voice is still pretty spot-on and appropriately girlish. Yasushi Akimoto（秋元康）was behind the lyrics while Kosho Inomata（水谷公生）took care of the music and Shiro Sagisu（鷺巣詩郎）was responsible for the arrangement.

Eiichi Ichijo (Hiroshi Itsuki) -- Ore wo Nakaseru Yoru no Ame（俺を泣かせる夜の雨）

 

Welcome to the weekend. And yes, just to make this clear...this is indeed a song concerning kayo kyoku legend Hiroshi Itsuki（五木ひろし）. But in those early struggling years before he made his breakthrough with the silky "Yokohama Tasogare"（よこはま・たそがれ）in 1971, the entertainer had been paying his dues as a 1960s teenager trying to break into the music industry. The man born as Kazuo Matsuyama（松山数夫）in Fukui Prefecture was going through a few stage names before Hiroshi Itsuki stuck with him for several decades. 

Back in 2017, I posted his debut single from May 1965, "Shinjuku Eki kara"（新宿駅から）when he first started out as Masaru Matsuyama（松山まさる）. Reviewing the song once more, I felt that the future Itsuki was coming out as a kayo kyoku crooner. He would release five more singles as Matsuyama up to early 1966 but I'm not sure whether he kept that style.

Then from 1967 for three singles, he got a new name Eiichi Ichijo（一条英一）and made his re-debut with "Ore wo Nakaseru Yoru no Ame" (The Evening Rain Makes Me Cry) which was released in March that year. Just on the cusp of turning 19, I guess the powers-that-be behind his career decided to have him start out as a really guttural-sounding Mood Kayo singer as if he'd drunk half a distillery (not to accuse him of underage drinking in Japan...the lad looked really cherubic on the cover of the 45") before he got behind the mike. That plinking guitar really set the tone of love doing someone wrong (and truthfully, it also reminded me of "Perry Mason"). The lyrics were provided by Choei Shiratori（白鳥朝詠）, who'd been with the singer when he was still Masaru Matsuyama, and apparently the music was composed by the singer himself under the name of Matsuyama, so he really knew the licks for a Mood Kayo tune. Unfortunately, his time as Ichijo wasn't a particularly successful one so he had another go with another name name and another song in 1969. I'll probably cover that one, too...eventually.

I'm sure that present-day Itsuki has covered his old songs under his different names and that has been the case with  "Ore wo Nakaseru Yoru no Ame" here. It's interesting to hear him cover it again but under the Itsuki voice that we fans have been so familiar with for so long.

Mineko Nishikawa -- Guitar Nagashite Konbanwa（ギター流して今晩わ）

 

Well, how about that? Kayo Grace Kyoku has decided to be a nagashi（流し）and stroll through the bar-filled streets to play old-style ballads on her guitar (might be more profitable than manning the cash register at a konbini). I just hope that she's legally of age to do that although frankly her age can vary from her late teens to her early twenties on "Kayo Kyoku Plus". 

Anyways, allow me to introduce "Guitar Nagashite Konbanwa" (A Good Evening To You As I Stroll With My Guitar), enka singer Mineko Nishikawa's（西川峰子）February 1977 11th single. It would seem as if I always hear of a new song from the Fukuoka Prefecture native via old copies of the Fuji-TV music program "Yoru no Hit Studio"（夜のヒットスタジオ）, and this isn't any different. I was watching a March 1977 episode last night and sure enough, Nishikawa appeared to sing her latest at that time.

"Guitar Nagashite Konbanwa" is some bouncy enka; it's bouncy enough that I had first assumed that it was one of the singer's examples of madros kayo（マドロス歌謡）, one of the small kayo genres that I had described in my last article on Nishikawa, "Mineko no Madros-san"（峰子のマドロスさん）, her 9th single, before all of those little genres finally got merged into the big traditional one known as enka in the 1970s. But actually, Hiroshi Yamada's（山田宏）lyrics merely describe that aforementioned nagashi balladeer doing his job visiting various bars to see if any customer would like to hear a tune. My usual impression of a kayo kyoku regarding a nagashi is of a sad Latin-tinged ballad in the style of songwriter Masao Koga（古賀政男）. "Guitar Nagashite Konbanwa" is absolutely brimming with perky cheer thanks to Kosho Inomata's（猪俣公章）melody.

I actually saw a clip of that "Yoru no Hit Studio" episode with Nishikawa singing "Guitar Nagashite Konbanwa" on YouTube last night, but it appears that it has gotten that strike by the powers-that-be.

Mineko Nishikawa -- Mineko no Madros-san（峰子のマドロスさん）

Good Free Photos

Noelle Tham has been our resident expert on "Kayo Kyoku Plus" on the older Showa era music for close to a decade now, so it was quite revelatory when I found out from her that the genre of enka only became known officially as enka in the early 1970s. The songs that I had known as enka from before that time had once been scattered among different genres before the great amalgamation took place, and then when everything was put under the enka umbrella, all those tunes were retrofitted as enka songs.

One such genre in kayo kyoku was madros kayo（マドロス歌謡）or "sailor pop" and sure enough, such songs were often about seamen shoving off to the great blue, leaving their loves behind. The Japanese predilection for gairaigo（外来語...foreign loan words） continued here as "madros" came from the Dutch or Flemish word for "sailor", "matroos". Some of the more famous singers sang madros kayo such as Takeo Fujishima（藤島桓夫）and his "Kaeri no Minato" (かえりの港) with the singer often putting on that old-fashioned sailor uniform.

I was watching another grand old episode of "Yoru no Hit Studio"（夜のヒットスタジオ）the other night when I came across enka singer Mineko Nishikawa（西川峰子）who I first wrote about back in 2016 with her 1974 hit "Anata ni Ageru" (あなたにあげる). She performed her own tribute to the sailors with "Mineko no Madros-san" (Mineko's Sailor) which was her 9th single from July 1976. A very happy-go-lucky enka song that fulfills the requisite of what an old madros kayo was, it's all about a sailor blowing a kiss to his girlfriend before heading out to sea. It was written by Yoko Yamaguchi（山口洋子）and composed by Kosho Inomata（猪俣公章）; there's nothing melancholy about this at all, and it seems as if the young lady is good with her boyfriend enjoying the marine life.

I'm not sure how well "Mineko no Madros-san" did on the charts but she did get her second invitation to NHK's Kohaku Utagassen to sing the song at the end of 1976.

Shinichi Mori -- Sore wa Koi（それは恋）

Looking at the translation for the title "Sore wa Koi" (That's Love), I would get that distinct impression of that old chestnut by Dean Martin, "That's Amore". However, Shinichi Mori's（森進一）53rd single from November 1981 is right up his way of love given in that exquisitely poignant way (I was actually going to say painful, but then all of us would suddenly be thinking of something rather naughty😁).

Written by Matsuyo Akimoto（秋元松代）and composed by Kosho Inomata（猪俣公章）, I couldn't get the entire meaning of "Sore wa Koi" but for me, the ballad has had me thinking of a young man in ancient times somewhere in an even more ancient forest pining (no pun intended) for a loved one. That somewhat forlorn arrangement lends to the heavier atmosphere of love parted. I don't know how "Sore wa Koi" fared on the charts but I would think that if I tried this at karaoke in front of some of my older students, I would probably get tons of beer ordered for me just for the shibui-ness of it all.

Haven't seen Mori in a while. I hope that he's doing OK.

(karaoke version)

Fuyumi Sakamoto -- Iwaizake（祝い酒）

I may have mentioned this before, but there was a period during my Japan days which seemed to be filled with wedding invitations for friends and students. For one student, the reception took place at the dance club Twin Star around the Ichigaya area in Tokyo. That establishment was apparently one of the birth places for the para para dance craze but there was none of that occurring on that day. Anyways, when the announcement came for a toast to my student and her new husband's happiness, some of us at our table went slightly into Ricky Gervais (indeed he was in a feisty mood last night, wasn't he?) mode and surreptitiously muttered something like "Yeah, that's what they all say at first.". Since it's been many years since I've heard anything about that student, I have no idea how the marriage is doing.

That old vignette was brought back into memory by Fuyumi Sakamoto's（坂本冬美）"Iwaizake" (Celebratory Drink) which the veteran enka singer performed at last week's Kohaku Utagassen. There was plenty of brio in Sakamoto's time on the stage as she was backed up by a small battery of taiko drums and a large temple background.

At first, I'd assumed that this was a new single by Sakamoto, but I found out sheepishly that "Iwaizake" was actually her 3rd single released all the way back in April 1988. Layered onto Kosho Inomata's（猪俣公章）stately march-like music, lyricist Takashi Taka（たかたかし）provides not only reason to celebrate but also some forewarning about what married life is all about, and it's unsurprisingly not a bed of roses all the time. It almost sounds like everyone involved was infusing "Iwaizake" with that necessary parental advice.

"Iwaizake" hit No. 16 on Oricon and sold around 330,000 copies with it earning a Gold prize at the Japan Record Awards. By the end of 1988, it became the 24th-ranked single for the year, and it got Sakamoto the first of her 31 invitations to the Kohaku, and in fact, her performance of the same song last week was actually her 4th time doing so.

Hibari Misora -- Wakaretemo Arigato（別れてもありがとう）

You know when the Kohaku Utagassen is fast approaching when NHK starts doing the preview special. That did occur tonight for the 70th Kohaku with announcers, performers and guests chatting about what to expect. One nifty segment was going through the 20th, 30th, 40th, 50th and 60th Kohaku highlights as we all got a look at how the music changed over the decades. I got to see old hits along with some new songs that I hadn't encountered before.

One such song is "Wakaretemo Arigato" (Though We Part, Thank You) which I'm assuming was released in 1969 since it was performed by the late Hibari Misora（美空ひばり）, who will be getting her comeback of sorts during the 70th edition on New Year's Eve, on the 20th edition in that same year. It's got one of the bluesiest saxophone solos that I've ever heard, so it's definitely a really smoky Mood Kayo.

Written by Yasuteru/Yasutoshi Miura（三浦康照）and composed by Kosho Inomata（猪俣公章）, "Wakaretemo Arigato" has got that slightly bittersweet tone (more sweet than bitter thankfully for the characters involved) as a couple decide to break up but with no regrets. Considering the genre, I would think that the parting involves drinks at their favourite watering hole followed by some cheek-to-cheek dancing. Misora herself adds to the atmosphere thanks to her vocals along with the silky strings and gentle guitar.

Shinichi Mori/Keiko Fuji --Saraba Tomo yo（さらば友よ）

I don't quite remember how I heard about Shinichi Mori's（森進一）"Saraba Tomo yo" (Farewell, My Friend). It could have been from a performance on "Uta Con"（うたコン）or I just simply came across it during my frequent forays on YouTube. Whichever the case may be, it is an interesting ballad that became Mori's 30th single from April 1974.

"Saraba Tomo yo" has been classified as an enka tune but there's a part of the intro just before Mori starts singing that kinda hits me like a ton of bricks since it doesn't sound like a typical enka arrangement. I'd say that the part in question sounds rather European as in some sort of melancholy passage from an epic bittersweet classic.

I may have mentioned this before in past Mori articles, but this is the fellow who seems to be the expert on melancholy kayo. That boyish look with the puppy-dog eyes and the quaver in his voice which always makes it sound like he's on the verge of a major bawl are Mori characteristics that have endeared him to his fans for decades.

Yu Aku（阿久悠）is behind the lyrics of a forlorn and defeated man who sees his beloved walk away for good without looking back before boarding that train due to some possible betrayal or other relationship-breaking conflict. Meanwhile, Kosho Inomata's（猪俣公章）music is the equivalent of a storm rising and lowering in tempo as it blows around the imminently ex-couple.

"Saraba Tomo yo" managed to peak at No. 5 on Oricon and ended the year as the 36th-ranked single.

Speaking of singers who have their hearts on their sleeves, there is also Keiko Fuji（藤圭子）who knows a thing or two about heartbreaking ballads. I couldn't find out when she performed "Saraba Tomo yo", but as usual, she puts out her all into her version, especially with that bitter growl in her delivery. Nice use of that oboe and trumpet, too.

Sueo Masuzawa -- Saraba Haiseiko（さらばハイセイコー）

A long time ago back in the 20th century as a young pudgy lad in Toronto, my family used to go down to the local horse racetrack known as Greenwood Raceway by Lake Ontario and watch the races down there. The highlights, aside from the actual races, were making origami boats and cranes out of discarded tickets and the pizza sold there that tasted like cheese and pepperoni baked onto cardboard (mind you, fibre is important for good health).

When I was writing the article on Salty Sugar's "Hashire Koutarou"（走れコウタロー）in early November, I also discovered this song called "Saraba Haiseiko" (Farewell Haiseiko). It's an enka that stands out since it was written and composed as a tribute to a champion racehorse called Haiseiko (1970-2000), and the performer himself wasn't a singer by profession, but a racing jockey and a horse trainer by the name of Sueo Masuzawa（増沢末夫）who was the main jockey for Haiseiko.

"Saraba Haiseiko" was released on New Year's Day 1975 as a song in commemoration of Haiseiko's retirement, and I have to say that if Masuzawa had ever decided to leave the racing industry, I think that he could have become a pretty decent enka singer. The introductory trumpets are a nice touch as they resemble the horns that I remember hearing at Greenwood. And the overall melody by Kosho Inomata（猪俣公章）is a proud anthem for the champion horse given by his partner-in-arms (or saddle, as it were).

The creation of the song was definitely kept in the family, so to speak. The lyrics were provided by Iwao Kosaka（小坂巌）, a horse racing journalist, with assistance by songwriter Takao Yamada（山田孝雄）. "Saraba Haiseiko" made it up all the way to No. 4 on Oricon and finished the year as the 37th-ranked single.

Shinichi Mori -- Hitori Sakaba de（ひとり酒場で）

There aren't too many Japanese singers who can make fans weep right from the get-go. I can probably count them on one hand: Hibari Misora（美空ひばり）, Hideaki Tokunaga（徳永英明）and Koji Tamaki（玉置浩二）. And then there is enka singer Shinichi Mori（森進一）.

When he was young, Mori had that boyish face and puppy-dog eyes that could set tear ducts to kill. Then when he sang, that anguished warble in his voice would pretty much wipe out a lot of the audience right then and there.

I gather that one of his weapons was his 10th single "Hitori Sakaba de" (In A Bar Alone) from July 1968. The old-fashioned bluesy music by Kosho Inomata（猪俣公章）has that sad and somewhat tipsy feeling as if it were representing that poor guy down on his luck as heads to his favourite watering hole for solace, liquid or otherwise. Then, Shizuo Yoshikawa's（吉川静夫）lyrics of being the loneliest man in Tokyo, the city of millions even back then, probably finished everybody off.

The thing is, though, the song sounds like it was done in a major chord so there is also that feeling of hope perhaps done as a lullaby. The bartender, having his ear bent, could be giving the down-on-his-luck guy some very sympathetic replies and maybe even advice on how to get back on that horse again. "Hitori Sakaba de" peaked at No. 12 on Oricon.

Sayuri Ishikawa -- Kakurenbo (かくれんぼ)

Well, these are some pretty rare videos so I'm hoping that the powers-that-be will allow them to stay on for at least a little while.

For those who are Sayuri Ishikawa（石川さゆり）fans, you will know that she had initially been groomed to debut as an aidoru in 1973 by Columbia Records with her catchphrase being "The Columbia Princess". This was her debut single "Kakurenbo" (Hide and Seek) which was released in March of that year. The song was about a woman reminiscing about the titular game back in her hometown when she had hoped that she would be found out by the IT boy on whom she had a major crush.

She was all of 15 when she released "Kakurenbo" and although she may have been branded as an aidoru back then, the song itself sounds quite enka perhaps due to the arrangement and her vocals. With lyrics by Michio Yamagami（山上路夫）and music by Kosho Inomata（猪俣公章）, there was some serious musical backup for the teen Ishikawa, but according to the J-Wiki article on the singer, she struggled to gain fame especially since at the time, the girls of the Hana-no-Chuusan Trio（花の中三トリオ）...namely Momoe Yamaguchi（山口百恵）, Masako Mori（森昌子）and Junko Sakurada（桜田淳子）were making huge inroads with their own aidoru careers. Perhaps there was some confusion among the public at large as to how Ishikawa was to be categorized: was she an aidoru or a very young enka singer?

With that catchphrase for her and "Kakurenbo", I guess that there was that hope that people would be attracted by that countryside innocence, although I think there were many aidoru who probably fit that description. It would take almost 4 years and 14 more singles before Ishikawa had that breakthrough with one of enka's great standards "Tsugaru Kaikyo Fuyu Geshiki"（津軽海峡・冬景色）. After that, she never needed to look back.

Fuyumi Sakamoto -- Abaredaiko (あばれ太鼓)

Now where have I heard this before? Taiko, Kokura, Muhomatsu. Even some portions of the strings in the Kosho Inomata (猪俣公章)-composed melody sound familiar... Ah! That's right, Hideo Murata's "Muhomatsu no Issho" (無法松の一生)! I wonder if "Abaredaiko" is some sort of tribute to her predecessor's own debut. It's either that or the Muhomatsu franchise just has a penchant for songs based on it to sound like that. I'd like to think it's the former.

Just like "Muhomatsu no Issho", Fuyumi Sakamoto's（坂本冬美）debut single has got a manly edge and the taiko adds more power to the intense score. Even Sakamoto's muscular delivery nicely depicts the violent character that is Matsugoro. But I have to say that it seems to have lost some of the intimidating factor with the acoustic guitar in it, which mellows the otherwise abrasive song. No matter though, it's still a cool tune and I can imagine Murata having a go at "Abaredaiko". Accompanying Inomata's composition was Takashi Taka's (たかたかし) lyrics.

(empty karaoke version)

"Abaredaiko" was released on 4th March 1987 and was quite well received, as seen by the "Newcomer Award" and "Best Newcomer Award" Sakamoto managed to bag at the 29th Japan Record Awards and the 20th Japan Cable Awards respectively. She had sung "Abaredaiko" on 46th edition of the Kohaku in 1995, as well as the 54th one in 2003. I wouldn't mind if it were to be sung again this year. Sakamoto's 2nd single, "Abare Taiko ~ Muhomatsu Ichidai Iri ~" (あばれ太鼓〜無法一代入り〜), which is in the video below, has an extra excerpt that - I think - includes more stuff on Muhomatsu.

Wow, Sakamoto playing the Taiko?! Even though she got emotional at the end, dang, she's one cool lady! Hmm, I believe she's the first female enka singer I've ever primarily described as "cool", rather than "demure"/"elegant". I mean, she is also those but I see her as more of the former.

hiro-star.at.webry.info/201303/article_15

Kokura Nadai wa Muhomatsu (小倉名代は無法松) - can't really disagree when songs that have Kokura (city) in them inadvertently feature Muhomatsu. Or should that be the other way round?

Senri and Mari Unabara -- Osaka Rhapsody （大阪ラプソディー）

Having relatives in the Osaka region, I can vouch for the observation that many Japanese in other areas have made about the folks from that area. They can be very loud and boisterous...perfect for the most commerce-happy area in the country. The above video features the 70s comedic duo Senri and Mari Unabara（海原千里・万里）, a sister act nattering away in the Osaka dialect at warp speed. The younger Senri on the right was actually born as Emiko Kaminuma（上沼恵美子）, and although the duo broke up in that same decade, Kaminuma returned to the spotlight some time afterward under her real name and has remained as one of the most venerable tarento and forces of nature on TV.

One of the things that I hadn't known about the duo was that they actually sang a few songs publicly as well. Among the four singles that were released by Senri and Mari Unabara was "Osaka Rhapsody" that came out in February 1976. I heard this today being sung on "Nodo Jiman"（のど自慢）so I decided to write about it. I was surprised to hear that this was a song that came out in the mid-70s since the intro sounds like the jaunty beginning to a wartime tune. However, the melody by Kosho Inomata（猪俣公章）then quickly simmers down to what seems like a travelogue through traditional streets...shopping here, nibbling on a few goodies there.

The lyrics by Michio Yamagami（山上路夫）have two young lovers making a whirlwind tour around the famous spots of Osaka such as Dotombori and Midosuji. Methinks that knowing the gregarious Osakans, the lovers would be totally exhausted by the time their hosts finally let them go for the night. Still, the couple simply cannot deny the food. And I cannot deny that the sisters sound quite polished behind the mike as singers instead of mere comediennes.

"Osaka Rhapsody" was the one big hit for the Unabaras as it sold 400,000 records and ended up as the 95th-ranked single for 1976. I'm not sure what her sister is up to now but I'm sure the former Senri-turned-Emiko would be more than up to sing the song if asked.

https://www.flickr.com/photos/kaz35/2352025778/?ytcheck=1