I've been a fan of Japanese popular music for 40 years, and have managed to collect a lot of material during that time. So I decided I wanted to talk about Showa Era music with like-minded fans. My particular era is the 70s and 80s (thus the "kayo kyoku"). The plus part includes a number of songs and artists from the last 30 years and also the early kayo. So, let's talk about New Music, aidoru, City Pop and enka.
Credits
I would like to give credit where credit is due. Videos are from YouTube and other sources such as NicoNico while Oricon rankings and other information are translated from the Japanese Wikipedia unless noted.
Summer has came and went in the northern hemisphere, but I'd like to talk a little bit about my annual solo summer trip this year. Going against my tendency to head north, I decided to head towards western Japan this time. The destination was the port city of Kobe in Hyogo prefecture. I've been to Kobe a couple of times when I was younger, but it was only ever for a day trip when touring the bigger tourist spots in the Kansai region like Osaka and Kyoto with my family. But with the allure of meat and dairy products, the nearby Suma Sea World, and the balance of ocean and mountain views, I was all ready to revisit it for a proper trip.
But, now, you know me - my domestic travels choices are always led by kayo-related ulterior motives. So, what is it this time?
1. Tadaharu Nakano (中野忠晴). The jazz man spent his formative years in the city due his father's (a pastor) work transfer, before moving back to his home prefecture of Ehime for middle and high school.
2. Haruo Minami (三波春夫). The man with the most welcoming of smiles has a few Hyogo and Kobe-related entries from his rendition of the entirety of the Tale of Heike. I also had to get a bit of Minami-based research work done in Kyoto a prefecture over - I wasn't too keen on staying in the old capital with its searing summer temperatures, so Kobe with its slightly lower temperature was the perfect spot to set up camp.
Despite the 36 and 37 degree Celsius days (38/39 on that one day I was in Kyoto) that made me understand how a popsicle feels under the sun, I had a great time checking out historical spots and checking out coffee shops that have been around for a very, very long time - apparently, Japan's first coffee shop opened in Kobe's Motomachi district in the 1800s! I also headed out to Suma for the aquarium on my last full day. I spent quite some time at Sea World watching the orca shows and just staring at the vast Pacific ocean, so I didn't get to explore much of the coastal town. After all, I needed to head back to Kobe for a Minami song-based history tour featuring Kahei Takadaya and Taira no Kiyomori.
From what I understand, Suma with its pine tree-dotted sandy beach and clear waters had been a prime holiday destination since the early 20th century. I suppose it's what Kamakura or Shonan is to those in the Tokyo region. But despite its idyllic image now, it was the stage for one of the major battles in the Tale of Heike, the Battle of Ichi-no-Tani, where the Minamoto clan claimed victory. From this, the duel between Minamoto retainer Kumagai Naozane and the teenaged nephew of lord Kiyomori Taira no Atsumori, has been adapted into Noh and even pop music. What a place the Suma bay was, huh? Quite nicely bringing these two sides of the beach town is Nakano's Suma Koshinkyoku (Suma march).
Suma Koshinkyoku was released in June 1933. The young Nakano breezily belts out this ditty that cleverly blends Suma's modern day image with the above fragment of ancient history. Yaso Saijo (西條八十) even peppered a few puns throughout his lyrics to concoct a fun atmosphere fit for the beach town - e.g. Suma no matsubara kimi wo matsu(Suma's pine-lined coast awaits), Suma wa nihon no Ichi-no-tani (Suma is Japan's number 1/Ichi-no-tani). Masao Koga (古賀政男) ties everything together with a delightful summery melody that has his signature mandolin sound.
Around 1933 and 1934, there was a bit of a koshinkyoku, shin min'yo, and ondo boom in the Japanese record industry. So, Suma Koshinkyoku was one of the hundreds produced at the time. Centering on Japan's countryside towns and prefectures, they were essentially made for local tourism PR. These ditties, which point out the sights and sounds of its locale in question, are pretty much the predecessors of the go-tochi song that became all the rage in the 1960s and, eventually, and enka theme staple. I don't usually actively listen to these domestic marches, so I was quite surprised with how much I enjoyed Suma Koshinkyoku. Perhaps it's because the ditty's vibe perfectly captured my short but memorable time at Suma. Perhaps it's because I can imagine a grinning Tadaharu-san giving me a tour of the sunny Suma. Either way, one thing's for sure: I need to give Suma another visit.
When you think of Masao Koga (古賀政男), one of the fathers of kayokyoku and sometimes cited as (but highly debatably so) the Father of Enka, you likely think of his dark yonanuki (pentatonic scale) minor melodies that relay gloom and angst through that all too familiar lonely guitar or mandolin sound. "Kage wo Shitaite" (影を慕いて). "Jinsei no Namiki Michi"(人生の並木路). "Yu no Machi no Elegy" (湯の町エレジー). These are often cited as the quintessential Koga Melody and, in the "Father of Enka" discourse, the roots of enka. But Koga sensei had way more up his sleeve and created music in a myriad of different styles, themes, and moods. "Midori no Chiheisen" (緑の地平線). "Konna Watashi Janakatta ni"(こんな私じゃなかったに). "Koi no Manjushage" (恋の曼珠沙華).
The singer most associated with Koga Melody is probably Ichiro Fujiyama (藤山一郎); many of the Fujiyama-Koga combos becoming some of the most beloved evergreen tunes. Another is Shigeo Kusunoki (楠木繁夫), the two of them being the best of friends. But Koga sensei also composed for many other singers, but unfortunately those pieces were overshadowed by the aforementioned hits and overlooked by mainstream media. Today, I shall put the spotlight on a tune which one is unlikely to notice that it's a Koga creation which was sung by a singer one wouldn't associate with the venerable composer: Tadaharu Nakano's (中野忠晴) "Kougen no Uta" (lit. Plateau Song).
"Kougen no Uta" was released on 1st July 1932 and was the 2nd official single by the fresh-faced tenor who had only just graduated from Musashino Music School four months earlier. Mr. Nakano's most well-known for his foray in jazz and work with Koga's compatriot Ryoichi Hattori (服部良一), but he recorded a few Koga compositions early in his career, including his debut song, before the composer's move from Columbia to Teichiku Records in 1934 (he moved back to Columbia around 1939 or so). Unfortunately, “Kougen no Uta” did not seem to be a particular success, its release sandwiched between and thus overshadowed by debut tune “Yogiri no Minato” (夜霧の港) and Olympic theme “Hashire Daichi” (国際オリンピック選手派遣応援歌-走れ大地).
Listening to "Kougen no Uta," I'd say that besides the familiar sound of the group of mandolins strumming away in the back (brought to you by the Meiji Mandolin Orchestra), its overall profile did not feel like the Koga Melody I'd been exposed to for the longest time. In fact, it didn't sound Japanese or particularly Western either. It had an oriental sound that felt North Korean or Chinese to my ears, but I could be completely wrong. If it was indeed the case, though, I wonder if Koga's formative years in Korea had anything to do with it. Or it could simply be of the Meiji-Taisho enka sound. Either way, it's got a refreshing feel that makes it perfect for early summer.
コロムビア月報６月（昭和７） From the National Diet Library Archives
To Koga's melody, Yoshifumi Shimada (島田芳文) wrote the words depicting a scenery of verdant nature out in the great outdoors. It's as if you’re on a hike through the woods in the mountains taking in that sweet fresh air. The bird chirps in the earlier half of “Kougen no Uta” makes the musical hiking experience more immersive. But what I love most about this song is Shimada’s artful description of the progression of time the day spent in the woods: The morning dew on the leaves of a white lily in the mountain valley, the indigo silhouette of the distant mountains, and the white birch leaves whispering as the moon shines over the marshlands. You know the bird chirps? Since the second half of the song narrates night taking over the green valley, it makes sense to not have the bird sounds in that section.
Mr. Nakano’s more straightforward and relatively stiff delivery, reflective of the singing style when the Showa era was still in single digits, somehow makes “Kougen no Uta” sound a bit more raw. It’s as if we’re listening to a fellow hiker relay the beauty of nature and summer while trudging along a forest trail.
I was reading a little on "Kougen no Uta" in the July edition of the 1932 Columbia Records Monthlies, and it mentioned that it was created in a similar vein to the earlier released "Camp Kouta" (キャンプ小唄), what with the same lyricist-composer team. Both certainly give off that summer outdoorsy vibe, but Mr. Nakano's tune seems more forlorn and introspective in comparison to Mr. Fujiyama's lighthearted ode to camping. On that note, considering the number of tunes featuring these outdoor activities in the early to mid-1930s, it seemed like hiking and camping were all the rage back then. Maybe it was to strike a balance with the hustle and bustle of the city centers.
Despite not being a traditional Koga Melody or Nakano jazz number, I love “Kougen no Uta” very much for the reasons above. Had I heard it before my Mr. Nakano birthday dedication article, this would certainly have been included.
Now that summer is in full swing here in Japan, the cycling trail near home base has become quite lush - a little less so now because of some weed-whacking. It flanks a river, cuts through rice fields, and on clear days you can see the mountains in the distance. As I cycle down the trail in the recent days, I can't help by feel how apt the atmosphere of "Kougen no Uta" is to the scenery before me... even if my part of town is probably more a no or susono dotted with tanbo than kougen, and I can see the next bit of town before I can the mountains. Still, it's now become one of my summer cycling songs.
Welcome to the first weekend of February 2024. After getting through one of the grayest Januarys on record, we Torontonians are now bathed in brilliant sunshine. We could use a lot of that Vitamin D!
Therefore, it must seem a tad ironic that I'm starting this weekend session of KKP with an old kayo that's quite melancholy in verse and melody. And, true to my age and aging memory banks, I can't quite remember how I found out about Ichiro Fujiyama's（藤山一郎）"Sake wa Namida ka Tameiki ka" (Is Drinking About the Tears or the Sighs?). I very much doubt it was another discovery from the Weather News segment and the song hadn't been listed on the playlist during last week's episode of "Uta Con"（うたコン）.
Regardless, it's a good song to place onto the blog since it was a huge hit for the legendary Fujiyama after its release in September 1931 and probably one of the landmark examples of Showa era kayo kyoku. On J-Wiki, it's been designated as a form of ryukoka（流行歌）, which literally means "pop song", as well as a kayo kyoku (same meaning). However, despite coming to realize over the years through working on this blog and learning from fellow co-administrator Noelle that the genre of enka hadn't actually originated until the 1950s after the war, I still couldn't help but categorize "Sake wa Namida ka Tameiki ka" as a retrofitted enka tune because of the sound and the people involved in its creation.
For one thing, it was Masao Koga（古賀政男）, an up-and-coming composer at the time, who came up with the contemplative melody (powered by that famous guitar playing of his), something that has been a characteristic among that section of kayo kyoku known as the Koga Melodies (and you can get plenty of those through Noelle's Creator articles on the man himself at Part 1 and Part 2) although he has also been capable of jaunty tunes as well. Kikutaro Takahashi（高橋掬太郎）, who was also a newspaper reporter in Hokkaido, wrote the lyrics of heartbreak and loneliness. From the title, I'm assuming that the heartbroken lad in the song was trying to drown his sorrows in drink but not altogether successfully.
According to a 1997 issue of the "Kobe Shimbun"（神戸新聞...The Kobe Newspaper） via that J-Wiki article, "Sake wa Namida ka Tameiki ka" became a huge hit for the classically-trained crooner Fujiyama while the world was struggling through a major economic tempest. In fact, 800,000 records were sold which outpaced the sales of phonographs that year in Japan by a ratio of 4:1. In a foretelling of 1950s/1960s movies based on hit kayo, a couple of movies were inspired by Fujiyama's hit.
I've been to individual onsen（温泉）but alas, I never had the opportunity to really experience a full-blown onsen town or yuu-no-machi（湯の町）. My anime buddy and a couple of his friends were fortunate enough in the pre-pandemic times to make it out to Ginzan Onsen（銀山温泉）in Yamagata Prefecture to take in the wonderful townscape where tourists in their yukata could do their own version of barhopping by trying out the various types of hot springs. Since my buddy is also a photography hobbyist, he had the grandest time taking shots of the area which is especially spectacular at night. I gather that there is a certain mystique and romance with the combination of light and dark at Ginzan with bright white wisps or billowing clouds of steam escaping.
By the way, the above footage of Ginzan Onsen came under the aegis of Kuga's Travel, one YouTube channel that I have been subscribed to for quite a while now.
Yesterday, I was watching NHK's "Shin BS Nihon no Uta"（新・BS日本のうた...New Broadcast Satellite Songs of Japan）, the longer and slightly grander version of "Uta Kon"（うたコン）which focuses almost solely on kayo kyoku genres such as enka and Mood Kayo, and one of the special segments for that episode was a tribute to the late composer Masao Koga（古賀政男）. Koga will always be known as one of the master architects for kayo kyoku, and his brand of music, affectionately called Koga Melodies（古賀メロディー）, is notable for the sad Latin guitar imbued into his songs. Our resident kayo kyoku expert, Noelle Tham, gave a tasting on Koga's music several years ago via "The Works of Masao Koga" on KKP, so have a read of that if you like.
One of the songs that was featured on Noelle's article was actor/director Toshiro Omi's（近江俊郎）"Yuu-no-Machi Elegy", a ryukoka（流行歌...literally, popular song） from 1948 which centered around the realization of love lost in an onsen town. Toshio Nomura（野村俊夫）applied the lyrics to Koga's melancholy melody and the result was a huge hit for Omi, selling around 400,000 records, although the J-Wiki article for "Yuu-no-Machi Elegy" (Onsen Town Elegy) also stated that it took 23 missed takes to get to a satisfying one since Omi couldn't quite hit the low notes right. As well, the song had initially been titled "Yuu-no-Machi Blues" but because the finished product by Koga didn't have that blues feeling, the switch in titles was made.
I discovered that the guest on "Shin Nihon no Uta" was veteran enka singer Eisaku Ohkawa（大川栄策）who had been a student of Koga's, and I think that he was the ideal singer to cover "Yuu-no-Machi Elegy". It's always advantageous for any singer to have a certain unique and recognizable quality in their voice. There is soul in Aya Shimazu's（島津亜矢）vocals and Saburo Kitajima（北島三郎）has always had that working-man oaken quality in his voice. With Ohkawa, his high, nasal and somewhat mournful qualities probably struck the late Koga as things that could apply very well to his music collectively. So it wasn't any surprise that Ohkawa's version of "Yuu-no-Machi Elegy" was released as his 10th single in July 1972.
Earlier today, I did my weekly ROY article featuring Randy Newman's"I Love L.A." and one kayo that hit No. 3 on Oricon in the same month that Newman's album "Trouble in Paradise" was released was enka singer Eisaku Ohkawa's（大川栄策）big hit "Sazanka no Yado"（さざんかの宿）. In fact, I'd say that "Sazanka no Yado" is the song that Ohkawa is probably known for the most.
It has been a very long time since I put up an article featuring one of Ohkawa's songs (maybe 5 years) so after doing the ROY article, I figured that Ohkawa was due for some more attention. And so I opted to go with one of his very early singles, "Yanagawa no Hito" (Man of Yanagawa). This was his 3rd single from April 1970, and it was written by Miyuki Ishimoto（石本美由起）and composed by the late Masao Koga（古賀政男）, Ohkawa's mentor.
What caught my ears was Koga's enka melody which has an arrangement by Mitsuru Kotani（小谷充）that seems as if it was given a slight contemporary lift from what I've heard of the instrumentation and subtle key shifts. Ishimoto's lyrics first struck me as a story surrounding what I think is one of the quintessential traditional scenes in Japan, whether it be through karaoke videos or a historical drama: the slow cruise down a river lined by willow trees, and indeed, yanagawa translates into English as willow river.
However, after going through the lyrics, I've realized that "Yanagawa no Hito" is actually a go-tochi（ご当地）enka or traditional song about a specific region in Japan. In this particular case, Ohkawa is singing about the city of Yanagawa in southern Fukuoka Prefecture which is known for its canals. The key word in the lyrics which corrected my path about what the song was all about was Gonshan（ゴンシャン）, written in katakana. Putting it through the Yahoo Japan search engine pulled up multiple hits about a certain coffee shop known as Gonshan in Yanagawa. It's all quite poignant since the protagonist in "Yanagawa no Hito" is planning on leaving the city for a bigger place...perhaps Tokyo. The video below incidentally is of Yanagawa and it was created by Kevin Caption.
As I mentioned in the article for "Sazanka no Yado", Ohkawa had to go through many years without a hit before that big song from 1982 finally reached him. However, just judging from "Yanagawa no Hito" alone, I think perhaps a reappraisal of those perhaps forgotten tunes of his throughout the 1970s might be considered.
Recently, I played an old 33 rpm record of some of Hibari Misora's（美空ひばり）hits which included "Kage wo Shitaite", a very sad enka song written and composed by Masao Koga（古賀政男）that was originally recorded back in 1931 by Chiyoko Sato（佐藤千夜子）.
Now, our resident enka enthusiast Noelle Tham had written a Creator's article based on the works of Koga in which she explained a little bit about the genesis of "Kage wo Shitaite" (Longing for the Shadow). The song was born out of despair which came to a head in the summer of 1928 when Koga was around his mid-20s and was planning to commit suicide due to the feeling of darkness that had been pervading him with the arrival of Modernism to Japan. However, fortunately for him and for all of his future fans, he was able to get out of that self-destructive cycle and put his frustration onto paper and into song instead.
One reason that I decided to do a follow-up of sorts after Noelle's 2017 description was that this was another Misora ballad that I had been hearing for years probably starting when I was a small kid, and I've placed her "Kage wo Shitaite" alongside "Kanashii Sake"（悲しい酒）as her most tear-inducing works. If there is a certain similarity between them, it's probably because Koga had also composed the latter song. The evolution in recording techniques aside between Sato's original in 1931 and the possible recording of Misora's cover in 1969, there is a certain Misora-esque grandeur in her version although that same poignant mandolin intro has remained constant in the many covers by other singers.
When I listened to Sato's original via Noelle's article, my impression was that the song took on a simpler but operatic quality as if it had certainly been meant to be sung in front of others but also in humbler surroundings, among friends and/or fellow barflies. In a movie, I would have seen the formerly jollity in the drinking establishment dissipate temporarily for customers to reflect on their station in life over their drinks.
Ichiro Fujiyama's（藤山一郎）version came out in March 1932 and it was noticeable by how quickly that mandolin opening went before that melancholy tone set in once more. Plus, it sounds like that the instrument contributed a little more before a fuller orchestra entered the picture. Fujiyama's cover came across as the one that would have been performed on a radio program. Of course, Fujiyama and Sato have different voices but that common mournful quality still wafts through the air.
One other reason that I put up "Kage wo Shitaite" is that it has made for an interesting comparison with an American standard by one of the foremost authors of the Great American Songbook, Irving Berlin. Somewhere in my cardboard boxes is Ken Burns' multi-volume DVD discourse on jazz and I remember that the song "What'll I Do?" was given some attention. According to the Wikipedia article for the song, Berlin had created it as a forlorn inquiry following the end of a romantic relationship, although I had remembered it (perhaps wrongly) on the Burns DVD as his despairing message over the death of a loved one.
I'm not sure how jazz purists have felt about Linda Ronstadt's tackling of the standards through her 1983 album"What's New?", but I purchased my copy of the album years ago, and I still love her take on "What'll I Do?".
Last night was the return of NHK's "Uta Con"（うたコン）after its summer hiatus, and it was once again the mix of the old and the new. At the beginning, I got to hear enka singers Yukino Ichikawa（市川由紀乃）and Konomi Mori（杜このみ）sing a Chiyoko Shimakura（島倉千代子）kayo that I hadn't heard before.
"Rindou Touge" (Woodland Path Ridge) was Shimakura's 2nd single from September 1955 and this was recorded when the Tokyo-born singer was only 17 years old. Along with Hibari Misora's（美空ひばり）"Ringo Oiwake"（リンゴ追分）which had been released a few years earlier, I realized that the kayo of the time wasn't all about heading to Tokyo or crying over one's sake. There were sentimental ballads that related the quiet life back in the countryside.
Written by Yaso Saijo（西條八十）and composed by Masao Koga（古賀政男）, "Rindou Touge" may talk about the contented environment but there are also words about the beloved elder sister who has since gone off to another town over that ridge with her new husband, so perhaps that is a wistful statement on how life evolves over time. However, the gentle tempo of the song reminds listeners that that life isn't in that much of a hurry.
Shimakura's 2nd single was another huge hit since it sold well over a million copies, but that apparently still paled somewhat against her debut single"Kono Yo no Hana"（この世の花...The Flowers of This World） from a few months earlier which sold around 2 million records. A very impressive one-two punch! Shimakura only sang "Rindou Touge" just once on the Kohaku Utagassen and that was in 1978 during her 22nd appearance on the New Year's Eve special.
Out of all the showa era composers I've come across, Masao Koga (古賀政男) definitely takes the cake for the one who'd produced the gravest of scores, with songs like "Kage wo Shitai te" (影を慕いて) and "Kanashii Sake" (悲しい酒) being prime examples. So, OBVIOUSLY I am following that vein and writing about this fantastic work of art, "Uchi no Nyobo nya Hige ga aru" (My Wife Has a Mustache).
My figurative socks were knocked off my feet when I saw this bizarro title in the Father of Kayokyoku's list of notable works on the J-Wiki when doing research for the first part of his KKP bio. Considering the juxtaposition between song name and the creator, if I were to have heard "Uchi no Nyobo nya Hige ga aru" with zero prior knowledge, I wouldn't have guessed that Koga had composed it. I suppose it goes to show that even the most depressing of fellows can come up with something so silly, even if it was for the sake of a comedy movie.
In both forms of "Uchi no Nyobo nya Hige ga aru", originally from 1936, comedian Kyouji Sugi (杉狂児) plays the hapless soul married to a woman with the disposition of a surly bear and possibly the mustache of Magnum P.I. across her upper lip, played by the geisha singer Yakko Michi (美ち奴). The guy is heavily bothered by the presence of her whiskers and yet understandably shrinks into a stammering piece of tofu when honey dearest sharply confronts him. And in the song, the carefree and jolly music that accompanies Sugi's happy-sounding rant about his daily predicament seems to show that everything's A-OK in the household and completely masks how terrified he is.
As for Sadashi Hoshino's (星野貞志) words, I'd come up with a theory a while back regarding the mustache: The woman in question having facial hair could also imply that she's "The Man" of the house, considering how meek her husband is. I mean, she could have a 'stache that rivals Salvador Dali's too, for all I know. It does make the ditty more profound, but then again, I don't think one needs that much brainpower for comic relief.
Though not as renowned as Koga's other works, this pre-war comic number still gets its time in the limelight on TV shows occasionally and has been covered by other artistes, including the current muse of yours truly, Hachiro Kasuga (春日八郎). There had been no version of this song I'd wanted to listen to but his for obvious reasons, and because he looked to be one of the last few fellows I'd think of when it comes to stammering away like a tofu. And yet he more or less did in his 1974 rendition of his "Koga Masao wo Utau" (古賀政男を歌う) album. By golly, it's one of the best things ever. Well, he doesn't quake in the same manner as Sugi when yelled at, rather, he sounds more like he's quietly mumbling under his breath with his head down in an effort to avoid eye contact. Still aMAzing nonetheless. As for the one behind the terror of a wife here, it's speculated to be the kayo-rokyoku singer Yuriko Futaba (二葉百合子). Interestingly, though Hachi had released 3 versions of the Koga cover album throughout the 1970s, only the '74 take has "Uchi...".
Quite some time ago (it was meant to be "Not too long ago", but I got a horrendous writer's block for this article at that point in time), commenter Hanibo mentioned that Akira Matsudaira (松平晃) was one of the few popular ryukoka stars that hadn't yet been profiled on KKP, so I thought that now would be a good time to give him a label of his own, and what better way to start it than with the song that brought him into fame, "Circus no Uta" (Circus Song) from 1933.
For some reason, I was never keen on circuses. I mean, they have animals I like perform tricks and performers doing death-defying stunts, but I could never get into it. I wonder if it was a subconscious aversion to it after I got traumatized by "Dumbo" when I was young (especially since I love elephants)... and the dang clowns. This aversion was probably also what kept me away from "Circus no Uta", easily one of the evergreen ryukoka to come out of the 30's and one of the great Masao Koga's (古賀政男) pride and joy.
Well, but after the aforementioned prompt and after watching an interview of Koga, I finally set my aversion aside and gave this Matsudaira hit a good listen. I got to say, it's very... circus-y... in the sense that it's jaunty and what I believe is the clarinet fluttering in from time to time adds a sort of whimsical edge to a score that is heavy on the accordion. This accompanies the equally renowned Yaso Saijo's (西條八十) words about a carny who's bored with his roving lifestyle and yearns to go home to his special one.
With two of the old kayo's big wigs having worked on "Circus no Uta", it was no wonder why it did as well as it did. But prior to its success there were some complications: for one, Koga also had a severe writer's (creator's?) block when it came to having to complement Saijo's forlorn piece. Two, the one whom this tune was originally written for, Ichiro Fujiyama (藤山一郎), moved to Victor from Colombia Records, so they had to find a replacement in then newcomer Matsudaira. In spite of all that, Matsudaira managed to make it work and we have the classic we know today that has been covered countless times by enka singers in the following decades.
There were so many renditions to pick from, so I decided to put the one by Koga's last student, Eisaku Ohkawa (大川栄策). In this one, you can enjoy a slightly more modern take on the music while still retaining the quintessential Koga-sound.
Before we end off this article, here an introduction to Matsudaira: Born Tsuneharu Fukuda (福田恒治) on 26th June 1911 in Saga prefecture, he had quite a rough road on his way to becoming a singer. First he faced objections from his father, then he had some financial difficulties that put a strain on his musical education when he did go up to Tokyo. However, Matsudaira did manage to get into the music scene through Nitto Records via a friend's recommendation, and debuted as Shizuo (?) Ohkawa (大川静夫) in 1932, all while still in school. All the way up to the next year, (from what I understand) he jumped from record company to record company in an effort to produce a hit, until he landed in Colombia, where he encountered "Circus no Uta" and the rest was history. In the way of his name, he underwent about half a dozen name changes, one per record company, prior to his breakthrough until he finally settled with "Akira Matsudaira" in 1934. In this way, he kind of reminds me of Toshiro Omi (近江俊郎).
(Noelle from 11/3/24: Allow me to correct myself on some things. For one, that friend was his senior at Tokyo Music School and the Ichiro Fujiyama. Also, his jumping from record company to record company was when he was working part-time as an under-the-radar singer to pay off school fees. He actually recorded "Circus no Uta" while still doing covert part-time. Perhaps because the song blew up in popularity, he got into trouble with school, so he quit and chose the path of pop music. In doing so, Fukuda officially signed on to Columbia in 1934 under "Akira Matsudaira", the stage name he used when he was a covert part-timer at Columbia.)
Last Tuesday on "Uta Kon"（うたコン）, there was a tribute to the late kayo composer Masao Koga（古賀政男）through one of his classic creations, "Niizuma Kagami"(The Bride's Mirror) which was the theme song for a melodramatic motion picture of the same name released in 1940.
Initially from the title, I had assumed that the song would relate the sufferings of a newly-married woman due to the long absences of her husband and an imperious mother-in-law. However, looking at the lyrics by Sonosuke Sato（佐藤惣之助）, they themselves tell of the strong love between husband and wife, although the movie itself as seen above in the karaoke video has the main character indeed suffering when she is blinded by what seems to be a stray bullet.
"Niizuma Kagami" was a duet originally performed by Akiko Futaba（二葉あき子）and Noboru Kirishima（霧島昇）. According to her Wikipedia profile, the Hiroshima-born Futaba was once one of the most popular female singers in Japan and participated in the first 10 years of the Kohaku Utagassen making the transition from radio into television. Along with the duet performed on last Tuesday's show, I've also enjoyed this original version as an enka/kayo waltz which has that mix of melancholy and devotion.
Futaba debuted in 1936 and retired in 2003 at the age of around 88. She passed away in 2011 when she was 96.
Chiyoko Shimakura（島倉千代子）performed a cover version of "Niizuma Kagami" at the 1965 Kohaku Utagassen, although I'm not sure whether her recorded take came out in the same year. From listening to it a couple of times, her "Niizuma Kagami" seems to have that more traditional enka flair. I could imagine cherry blossom petals frittering away in the wind, for example. Interestingly enough, Futaba herself never performed the song herself on the NHK New Year's Eve special in her decade's worth of appearances.
Y'know...I look at that performance of the Kohaku in the year of my birth and I wonder what it must have been like to view the show back in those relatively early days.
No "Uta Con"（うたコン）last night so I kinda need my dollop of enka right now. There's been quite a lot of articles going up on the relatively modern music recently so I want to swing the pendulum to the old days.
So, heck, let's go back to the 1940s and revisit the duo of Noboru Kirishima（霧島昇）& Misao Matsubara（松原操）, aka Miss Columbia（ミス・コロムビア）. Husband and wife got together again after their 1939 "Ippai no Coffee kara"（一杯のコーヒーから）to sing "Mennai Chidori" (Blind Plover) in 1940.
Masao Koga（古賀政男）composed the very cheerful song about what I believe is a newlywed bride learning the hard ropes of being a wife with Hachiro Sato（サトウハチロー）providing the lyrics. In fact, I think the song is so cheerful that I can envision a Japanese Snow White happily trilling these words away while Prince Charming is out slaying dragons or something on that order.
"Mennai Chidori" was created for the 1940 Toei movie "Niizuma Kagami"（新妻鏡...Bride's Mirror）starring Isuzu Yamada（山田五十鈴）. Although there was the official theme song with the same title, "Mennai Chidori" was used within the movie itself.
In 1965, Chiyoko Shimakura（島倉千代子）released her own version of "Mennai Chidori". Like the original version by Kirishima & Matsubara, Shimakura's cover was a B-side to her take on "Niizuma Kagami" on the A-side.
Then a few years later in 1969, Eisaku Ohkawa（大川栄策）gave his own rendition which sounds a bit more contemporary for the times. The bass beat provides a bit more of a slow gallop to the melody. However, although composer Koga tried to make this an A-side for Ohkawa so that the young singer could gain some success, the record company ultimately decided that it probably wouldn't sell, so the powers-that-be placed his "Mennai Chidori" as the B-side for someone else's A-side! There was a happy ending of sorts for Ohkawa as everyone soon discovered that his rendition was starting to gain fans, and it was then marketed as a hit B-side.
Frankly speaking, it's hard to believe hearing Ohkawa's silken and crystal voice that the record company would just dust him off like that in the first place, but then again, I don't know how Ohkawa sounded back in his early days.
I've known veteran entertainer Sachiko Kobayashi（小林幸子）as enka singer, actress, vivacious TV personality and epic set during Kohaku Utagassen broadcasts. She cemented her career with hits such as "Omoide Zake"（おもいで酒）and "Moshikashite Part 2"（もしかして・パート２）.
However I was also aware about her beginnings as a mere kid coming up with a hit song right at her debut in the 1960s although I never got to hear the song itself. Well, I finally got to hear the song last night.
"Usotsuki Kamome" (Lying Seagull) was Single No. 1 for Kobayashi when she was only 10 years old. It was released back in June 1964 and listening to it, I thought that this was a pretty mature song for her considering her age as Sou Nishizawa's（西沢爽）lyrics talk about a woman taking it out on a seagull for making all sorts of noise in the mistaken assumption that her beloved's ship had come into port. Another notable point was that it was legendary composer Masao Koga（古賀政男）who came up with the melody for "Usotsuki Kamome".
Quite some headiness and attention for the preteen Kobayashi and so I wondered what earned her all that special treatment. Well, apparently, it was Koga who scouted her out and perhaps it was he or someone close by who proudly proclaimed her as the second coming of Hibari Misora（美空ひばり）, which could explain why she got something like "Usotsuki Kamome" as her debut. Misora also started out as this kayo child prodigy who immortalized herself into public consciousness dressed up in a very adult tuxedo and with a voice which sounded years older.
I wish I could have found the original recording of "Usotsuki Kamome", but at this point, I will have to settle for Kobayashi's later revisitings to the song as an adult. Having listened to it a few times now, I've noticed how it starts off sounding like an old-fashioned happy-go-lucky kayo strut but then suddenly switches into something quite enka-like and this is around when the lyrics start talking about the woman heading back from the port rather dejectedly.
The fact that the single sold about 200,000 records probably had everybody thinking that Kobayashi was indeed the second Hibari. But as I mentioned as well on "Omoide Zake", there came 15 years of no hits, so it was amazing that she didn't give it all up and hung in there for so long (especially with that second Hibari label hanging over her) until her 28th single, the aforementioned "Omoide Zake" in 1979 which was that next big hit. After that, success became more of a regular and much appreciated tradition for the Niigata Prefecture native.
Continuing on my Masao Koga (古賀政男) tribute, Part 2 here will be focusing more on his works after WWII, specifically those from the 1950's and 1960's. If you haven't read Part 1 yet, you can do so in the link here.
After some research, I realised that while the great songwriter had made a name for himself by the 50's and 60's, he had fewer hits as compared to the previous couple of decades, which I guess was inevitable with the changes in musical preferences. But still, some of the successes he had during this period of time were probably his greatest.
Before we start, I would also like to mention that Koga, like many other respected songwriters, had many students, a good number of whom are popular enka-yo artistes like the flamboyant Sachiko Kobayashi (小林幸子)andKenichi Mikawa (美川憲一), the leader of the Mood Kayo group Tokyo Romantica Masayoshi Tsuruoka (鶴岡雅義), and Eisaku Ohkawa (大川栄策) who was his last apprentice. Antonio Koga (アントニオ古賀) and Takeharu Yamamoto (山本丈晴) were also under Koga's wing but were more well-known for being a guitarist and composer respectively.
Dang, this song is so cool.
Anyway, let's begin with the songs by the Queen of Kayo herself, Hibari Misora (美空ひばり). From what I've been reading, Koga began providing the rising star that was Misora with melodies in 1950 like "Musume Sendo-san" (娘船頭さん), but it was only in the mid-60's when their collaborations were very, very warmly received. One was the extremely melancholic piece "Kanashii Sake" (悲しい酒) from 1966 which I liken to Koga's own "Kage Shitai te" (影を慕いて). The other was "Yawara" (柔) from two years before and it definitely sits better with me - I deem it as the manliest song sung by a woman at the time. The score of "Yawara" is powerful and grand, which brings to mind a strong character that'll emerge victorious, and that was probably what Koga had in mind when he created it, especially since it was used to represent Judo in the '64 Tokyo Olympics. This became Madame Misora's biggest hit in her repertoire and, if I'm not wrong, was also Koga's most successful composition - I recall seeing a plaque of "Yawara" regarding this feat displayed in the Koga Masao Museum of Music (古賀政男音楽博物館).
Since we're on the topic of the Tokyo Olympics, I will now touch on the composer's other evergreen contribution to the sporting event, "Tokyo Gorin Ondo" (東京五輪音頭). Released in 1963, this festive bon odori-inspired tune was to be used as the '64 Olympics theme song, and Koga himself had actually made it with the intent of having minyo star Michiya Mihashi (三橋美智也) sing it as Michi was known for this sort of tunes. But, as we all know by now, HaruoMinami's (三波春夫) take sold the best and it essentially became the de facto version of it. I'm not too surprised by this as Minami's vocals match the joy and exuberance in the music better than Michi's, plus there was also Minami's warm and welcoming persona. "Tokyo Gorin Ondo" will even be used in the upcoming 2020 Olympics - it got a face lift with the inclusion of other genres besides enka going along to the same melody.
Following the trend of happy, feel-good stuff from the mustachioed composer, here is "Seishun Cycling" (青春サイクリング) by Kazuya Kosaka (小阪一也) from 1957, an ode to the joys of cycling and one's adolescence. It's got a joyous composition with the shrill wind instruments and light strings and crashing cymbals, which as I had mentioned in Part 1, I've come to associate with Koga's other style of songwriting. But, of course, he created many other stuff outside of those two styles, like "Yawara" and another tune you will see in a bit.
Now, we shall move on to something a little more severe. Coming from 1958, here is Hideo Murata's debut song, "Muhomatsu no Issho" (無法松の一生) with its B-side "Dokyo Senryo" (度胸千両) included. For "Muhomatsu no Issho", there's no denying that it was written by the man himself. It was based in rokyoku for Muchi's background and intense to match Matsugoro's (A.K.A. Muhomatsu) violent tendencies, but that creepy sounding mandolin and rhythmic beat are a clear sign that this is a Koga Melody through and through. Besides "Muhomatsu no Issho", Muchi also released his version of another quintessential Koga Melody, "Jinsei Gekijo" (人生劇場), in 1959.
"Rindo Toge" (りんどう峠) was the song I was referring to earlier - I wouldn't have known Koga composed it if I didn't see his name. "Rindo Toge" was one of Chiyoko Shimakura's (島倉千代子) early hits from 1955 and the first of quite a few collaborations with Koga - "Towa ni Kotaezu" (永遠に答えず), and "Nippon Yoitoko" (日本よいとこ) with Muchi, Kikue Hanamura (花村菊江), Midori Satsuki (五月みどり), and Yuriko Okada (岡田ゆり子) are some examples of that. With its premises being about a girl seeing her sister sent off to get married, the score sounds mostly traditional and folksy, as with songs of a similar topic, but I find that there is a modern pop edge to it as well - probably that was what threw me for a loop as Koga's music, the pop kind, tend to sound... old-fashioned, for want of a better word. It also gave Shimakura opportunities to let her clear and fluttering vocals shine.
To end off, I think it'd be good to include something by his last student. I'm not sure when Ohkawa became Koga's student, but in February 1969, he made his debut in the entertainment world with the jaunty "Mennai Chidori" (目ン無い千鳥), which was originally a duet sung by Noboru Kirishima and Miss Colombia (霧島昇 . ミス・コロムビア) in 1940.
After 47 years of being in the music business, creating over 5000 songs, and making his mark on Japanese music history, Koga passed away on 25th July 1978. He was posthumously awarded the People's Honour Award on 4th August in the same year. Other honours he received included were the Medal with Purple Ribbon and 3rd Class Orders of the Sacred Treasure.
Two museums were built in his honour, the first being the Koga Masao Memorial Hall (古賀政男記念館) in his hometown of Ohkawa, Fukuoka, built in 1982. And the other is the aforementioned Museum of Music in the Yoyogi-Uehara district, Tokyo, built in 1997 alongside the JASRAC building. It was built there as that very location was where his house used to be. This museum has a section dedicated to various accomplished composers and singers, and another dedicated to Koga himself - that bit's designed to incorporate parts of his old home... It was an interesting experience to see how he lived and where he worked then.
Well, although Koga's works come from the days of yore and that he'd be over a century old if he were still around, I respect him a great deal for being able to come up with stuff that are, thankfully, still being remembered today. And despite this Creator article being rather tough on the planning, I have to say I enjoyed writing it and talking about how he made those hits and how I was able to recognize his style. I hope you guys enjoy the articles and gained a better appreciation for Koga's music too.
Happy 113th Birthday, Mr Koga.
... Yeah, I made a mistake in Part 1. My math is terrible, OK?
Took me more than a year to finally get around to it, but here's a tribute to the great composer with his trademark square glasses and neat mustache, Masao Koga (古賀政男), via a Creator article.
This'll be my first entry under this label - I'd always wanted try my hand at a Creator article ever since J-Canuck started it this sort of write-ups, and I wanted to do one on a composer whose works I could more or less pinpoint easily, so who better than this legendary Showa era songwriter? All the more I thought he was a good and fitting candidate as I got the opportunity to visit his museum in Tokyo in 2016. However, I knew that this would be a big undertaking, considering Koga's title of Father of Kayokyoku and the fact that there are numerous famous pieces of music under his name. One article wouldn't suffice - it might, but it would be an extremely lengthy one. As such, I had to wait until I had the time and the will (the most important) to consolidate what I know about him into a couple of articles, and so, I thought now would be good since my schedule is pretty free, and "Uta Kon" paid their annual tribute to him this week, and his 113th birthday is coming up.
As mentioned, Koga had an extensive discography, so I'll try my best to put down what he was known for, as well as some interesting ones I'd come across. In this first part, I will include Koga's bio and his early works from when he began his composing duties in the 1930's to the post war period in the late 1940's. Sorry if something you're looking for doesn't show up - it might in part 2 though.
The picture on the right shows Koga when he entered Meiji.
Alright, let's begin with some background information. Koga was born on 18th November 1904 and his real name 古賀正夫 was the same as his stage name, with only a slight change in the third kanji character. He hailed from a village by the name of Taguchi Mura, now known as Ohkawa city, in Fukuoka. After the death of his father, Koga moved to Korea where his brother worked and spent most of his adolescence there. In that period of time, he got acquainted with the taishogoto, or the Nagoya harp, as well as the instrument he was often associated with, the mandolin.
In 1923, Koga returned to Japan and attended Meiji University, where he joined the school's mandolin club (明治大学マンドリン倶楽部). However, a few years later in 1928, it seemed like he hit quite a rough patch as he actually planned to kill himself at an onsen town in Miyagi. Fortunately, after being inspired by watching the sun setting in Zao, he decided to release his frustrations in a less morbid way by creating his first piece of music, "Kage wo Shitai te" (影を慕いて) - I can now see why this song is so depressing.
Sato's version.
In 1929, he would play "Kage wo Shitai te" at one of the mandolin club's performances and caught the attention of a popular singer at the time, Chiyako Sato (佐藤千夜子). As a result, she recorded the song a year later in 1931 with Koga, then using his real name, on the mandolin and guitar. It did not sell very well, but this marked the start of Koga's path as a composer. Once he graduated from Meiji in 1931, Koga went to Nippon Colombia Records, which from what I've been seeing was the record company back then, in hopes of being a regular employee under the company's literary section due to not having confidence in his songwriting abilities. But he got signed on as a contract composer instead. From there on out, by collaborating with prolific lyricists and the early showa era's shining stars, multiple hits that are still being remembered today were spawned.
At the moment, I am able to pick out two of Koga's distinctive songwriting styles, the first of which is what I call the quintessential Koga Melody where you can hear the eerie notes of the mandolin clearly in the midst of a brooding score. The other was a bit difficult for me to pick out and it's not really guaranteed that having these traits in the music means they were made by the man himself, but when Koga creates jolly tunes they seem to have a very festive, exuberant, and light quality, and I tend to hear crashing cymbals in the background from time to time. With that being said, I shall go on to talk about the songs that brought him fame and status.
One of Koga's frequent collaborators was the classically trained Ichiro Fujiyama (藤山一郎), who had encountered the new composer when he was still in music school (Tokyo Music School). "Oka wo Koete" (丘を越えて), "Sake wa Namida ka Tameiki ka" (酒は涙か溜息か), and "Aoi Sebiro de" (青い背広で) are just some of the Koga-composed works from Mr. Fujiyama's (it's my nickname for him) discography, but I think their most successful hit was "Tokyo Rhapsody" (東京ラプソディ) from 1936. As I had mentioned not too long ago, this optimistic tune about the wonders of Tokyo is quite the ear worm. If I'm not mistaken, Koga came up with the melody to "Tokyo Rhapsody" with the idea of exploring the metropolis by car, where one drives around and gets to take in the sights and sounds of the different parts of the city. Perhaps those in the car are new to the bustling city, which would explain the excitement conveyed. Fujiyama had also recorded his version of "Kage wo Shitai te" in 1932 which then became successful and probably became the de facto version of it.
Another artiste whom I always see having mustachioed composer's name pop up when the title flashes on screen is Noboru Kirishima (霧島昇), who was quite the contrast to the almost constantly grinning Mr. Fujiyama. Kirishima's Koga-collaborations included "Reijin no Uta" (麗人の歌) and "Shin Tsuma Kagami (?)" (新妻鏡), which was a duet with Akiko Futaba (二葉あき子), but they seemed to be most well-known for "Dare ka Furusato wo Omowazu" (誰か故郷を想わざる). Koga had written this bokyo tune from 1940 with the equally renowned Saijo Yaso (西條八十) after he returned from a cross-cultural sharing program of sorts in the US. It's got a rather jaunty melody to it to accompany the premises of a fellow far away from home fondly reminiscing the good times spent in his village hometown. Not surprisingly, it was very well received by soldiers at war at the time who could relate. Koga had drawn inspiration for "Dare ka Furusato wo Omowazu" from his time at his own hometown in Fukuoka.
Going a bit on a tangent to give you some trivia I uncovered not too long ago since I have mentioned Yaso: The Lyricist Award at the Japan Record Awards were known as the Yaso Saijo Award at one period of time. I found it nice that they named that award after the songwriter - it was a good way to honor him. On another note, Koga and Ryoichi Hattori (服部良一) were the ones who started the Japan Composer's Association (日本作曲家協会).
Alright, moving on. The two contributions Koga made for Mr. Fujiyama and Kirishima that I shared were showcased his livelier side, so the next few tunes will bring the spotlight on to the melancholic side, which he was probably most noted for.
Koga's own life experience played another role in the making of "Jinsei no Namikimichi" (人生の並木路), sung by actor and jazz singer Dick Mine (ディック・ミネ) in 1937. Early in the article, I mentioned about Koga's move to Korea after his father had passed on - well, the songwriter had translated the suffering and pain he felt at that time to a melody for this bleak song about a pair of siblings having to support each other away from home. The reason for the siblings' departure from home didn't seem to be specified in Sonosuke Sato's (佐藤惣之助) lyrics, but it does remind me of the Studio Ghibli film "Grave of the Fireflies".
Up next is a piece that, to me, is the definition of Masao Koga: "Jinsei Gekijo" (人生劇場). While the original take was recorded by Shigeo Kusunoki (楠木繁夫) in 1938, whose version I have put up, it was made popular by Hideo Murata (村田英雄) in 1959. This was where I got to know Koga's typical unnerving musical styling - especially in Murata's version where the use of the mandolin is obvious.
Although actor and movie director Toshiro Omi's (近江俊郎) hit "Yu no Machi no Elegy" (湯の町エレジー) is more about pining for love lost at an onsen town, I can't help but wonder if the wistfulness in the music from this 1948 hit was influenced by that incident Koga went through two decades ago. The melody of "Yu no Machi no Elegy" also focuses on the acoustic guitar rather than the mandolin, and that brings to mind similarly melancholic compositions from Toru Funamura (船村徹) years later. Y'know, I never really liked this song for the longest time, but with the number of times I have been listening to it over and over again recently on my own accord and while writing this section, I'm quite glad to say that it has grown on me... unfortunately that means "Izu no yama yama..." will be stuck in my head for the weeks to come.
Now that I've covered the more depressing works from early in Koga's career, I would like to end off this first segment of my tribute to the great songwriter on a silly note with "Uchi no Nyobo nya Hige ga aru" (うちの女房にゃ髭がある). Yep, Koga created comical stuff too, even for something titled "My Wife Has a Mustache". This aMAzing song was the theme song to the movie of the same name starring Kyouji Sugi (杉狂児) that featured a timid salary man who is ruled by his wife. It's a happy-go-lucky tune that amusingly undermines the guy's fear of his wife - he's clearly bothered by her facial hair (probably grown after they got hitched and he's got no where to run), but is beyond terrified of telling her and facing the consequences, as you can hear from Sugi's stammering when the wife, played by Geisha singer Yakko Michi (美ち奴), confronts him. Man, I would love to hear Hachiro Kasuga's (春日八郎) version of this. Speaking of Michi, Koga had also created a successful song for her called "Ah, Sore nanoni" (あゝそれなのに) for the same movie.
Sudden epiphany from 16/11/17: Although I find that it might be unlikely that "Uchi no Nyobo nya Hige ga aru" might have a deeper meaning as it was meant for a comedy, I just realised that what if the wife having a mustache is another figurative way for saying that she runs the house? It could be a twist on the saying "The one who wears the pants in the household", just that instead of pants it's having a mustache. I mean, madame here could may as well have a solid handlebar too while wearing the pants (mustache).
Okay, that's all for this half. I hope you've enjoyed this so far and would look forward to Part 2.
P.S. I would love to have a T-shirt with that caricature of him in this photo.
Happy St. Patrick's Day to all of you folks since as the saying goes, on March 17th, everyone is Irish! And because I'm not a big drinker and I only observe the goings-on of St. Patrick's Day from the comfort of a TV screen, I thought maybe I could pay some tribute to the holiday via the blog. So I searched for a kayo kyoku with the word midori or green in the title.
It didn't take too much effort at all. I punched in the relevant kanji into the Yahoo Japan search engine, and the first few replies all pointed to this song "Midori no Chiheisen" (Green Horizon) which was originally sung by the late singer Shigeo Kusunoki（楠木繁夫）.
Released in October 1935, it's a pretty lively number created by Sonosuke Sato（佐藤惣之助）and Masao Koga（古賀政男）about what I think is the relating of a tearful parting. I envision the man having to leave either a lover or a family via ship heading for places unknown. Considering how jaunty Koga's melody is compared to the sad lyrics by Sato, I can place it as one of those "smiling through the tears" kayo.
Becoming Kusunoki's most successful single, "Midori no Chiheisen" was used as the theme song for a movie of the same name which was also released in October 1935. However, due to wartime damage, the movie itself went permanently missing with only the song as the one surviving memento (aside from some stills) although the story was also adapted into a TV drama in 1962.
The song has continued to survive through covers by some of the most famous enka singers such as Hibari Misora（美空ひばり）.
Naomi Chiaki (ちあきなおみ) performed her version in front of a grand orchestra.
And I would also like to include Eisaku Ohkawa（大川栄策）.
As for Kusunoki, he was born Susumu Kuroda（黒田進）in 1904 in Kochi Prefecture on Shikoku Island. In junior high school, he wanted to become a musician so against his father's opposition, he moved up to Tokyo and entered what is now Tokyo University of the Arts in 1924 and started singing professionally a few years later.
Now this is where things get interesting in that Kuroda would end up using 55 stage names for himself. Apparently, according to the J-Wiki article, it wasn't all that unusual for celebrities to use a variety of stage names but I think Kuroda most likely took the proverbial cake. For those who want to see this amazing list of aliases and perhaps get some practice in reading Japanese names, you can check out the article and look at the right side under the man's photo beside the kanji 「別名」. I think even Jason Bourne would have to bow down in awe.
Under his name of Kusunoki, the singer released about 250 records but including all of his names, that number has been said to approach 800. All of the above information came from an article about the singer in an April 1997 issue of the Kobe Shinbun.
At this time, I'm trying to make sure that I'm not coming down with a major headache...my first in several years. Our upstairs neighbour is apparently doing some major renovations to his/her unit which includes a lot of hammering and drilling. It would be all too easy to dash up and give the person a piece of my mind but the resident has every right to make changes and I don't think he/she is even obligated to let any of us know (the noise is rumbling through both floors) in advance about any noisy work. In Japan, it's usually the custom to pay courtesy visits to the neighbours and let them know about the din to come.
(karaoke version)
Still, I decided to put on some old 45" platters on the player to at least try to forget about the rumble and I came across this old Hibari Misora（美空ひばり）single called "Yukyo Kaido" (The Road of a Chivalrous Person) which had been released back in March 1964.
I'm starting to develop the theory that The Queen of Kayo Kyoku was the Madonna or even David Bowie of those times. She took on a number of personae whether it be the uncannily talented little girl, the enka madam or the jazz entertainer. But perhaps during the early 1960s, I think she was also inhabiting the body of a courteous Edo Era warrior.
In that year of 1964, she sang the grand and brassy "Yawara"（柔）pertaining to the martial art of judo although I pictured her more in the garb of a samurai rather than in a judogi. And with "Yukyo Kaido", there was no doubt about Misora's character. She took on the role of a proud warrior willing to live each day as it comes, whether it will be the one to continue living or the one to die. No matter what, though, the warrior knows that the life will most likely be a short but exciting one.
Yaso Saijo（西條八十）provided the lyrics while Masao Koga（古賀政男）composed the confident and strutting music that Misora interprets with her usual gusto.
At this point, I will keep that chivalry in mind as I endure some more of that drilling over my head.
