Akira Matsudaira & Mamechiyo/Tadaharu Nakano & Noriko Awaya -- Koya wo Yuku (曠野を行く)

From the album "Matsudaira Akira
Eien no Utagoe" (2021)

 

I’d previously mentioned the Japanese record industry’s initial aversion to cover songs some time back. Allow me to introduce one of those exceptions: Koya wo Yuku. This was one I discovered while doing a bit of research on Akira Matsudaira’s (松平晃) Koya Mono in relation to Hachiro Kasuga’s (春日八郎) Bokyo Kayo for a class paper late last year. At the point of doing the paper, I'd only just developed a taste for Matsudaira’s songs of adventure and wandering in the vast Manchurian plains. That being the case, I was only most aware of his notable ones, i.e. basically, those easily found in his compilations on Spotify. The tunes that sparked the Koya Mono craze in the mid-1930s, “Isoge Horo Basha” (急げ幌馬車) and "Yuhi wa Ochite" (夕日は落ちて), were undoubtedly ever-present in the Kayo Prince's* compilations. But there were a few others which were less commercially successful, like "Koya wo Yuku".

"Koya wo Yuku" (Traversing the Plains (?)) was a duet Akira-san recorded with Mamechiyo (豆千代), and was released in late 1934. Mamechiyo, who debuted in 1933, was one of Columbia Records' uguisu geisha who hailed from Gifu prefecture. From my understanding of kayokyoku researcher Gyoji Osada's "Showa Kayokyoku" (2017), venerable composer Yoshi Eguchi (江口夜詩), a fellow Gifu native, was set on turning the geisha-turned-pop-singer into a star by giving her music lessons and conjuring up some songs for her. Without much success, she was paired with Matsudaira in hopes of scoring a hit. What came from this was "Koya wo Yuku". Matsudaira was in the limelight thanks to "Isoge Horo Basha" (also a Eguchi Melody), and that tune also made Koya Mono into the musical flavour of this period, making the likelihood of success for "Koya wo Yuku" high. While it didn't perform badly, it didn't perform great either. Mamechiyo recalled later that a likely reason was stiff competition from the great Taro Shoji (東海林太郎), who was also renowned for his Koya Mono (derived from Prof. Yoshinori Osakabe's "Showa Kayo Shi" (2024)). Luckily for Mamechiyo, she finally made a breakthrough about a year later in late 1935 with “Yuhi wa Ochite”, another duet with Akira-san. 

Having set the context of "Koya wo Yuku", let's take a look at the song itself. As with most Koya Mono, Suiro Nishioka's (西岡水朗) center on two migrants from Japan, wandering the Manchurian plains hoping to carve out a new life in this new land. Even though this is a duet, I'm not entirely sure if our travelers are a couple because there is mention of solo journeys (hitori tabi). Or, maybe (this just came to me while writing), they were travelling alone until they crossed paths, found that they are kindred spirits, and then started their journey together... I don't know. The relationship of the two characters aren't as clear cut (to me) as in "Yuhi wa Ochite".

That aside, what stood out the most to me was Eguchi sensei's melody. My initial impression of Koya Mono was that they were, more often than not, made using the minor scale. Instead, "Koya wo Yuku", for the most part, was made using the major scale and sounded rather cheerful, perhaps expressing the excitement and hope the couple feels. Yet, right after some stanzas, the melody briefly switches to the minor scale, as if reflecting our protagonists' weariness and pangs of homesickness after a period of being on the road far from home. The music quickly reverts back to its original cheery mood, however, as if their optimism in finding happiness in this new land overrides whatever pessimism they may hold. "Koya wo Yuku" is an interesting piece, for sure. I wonder if it would have been more successful had it been released at a different time.

The above video has Mamechiyo performing "Koya wo Yuku" and "Yuhi wo Ochite" almost 40 years after the songs were released in 1970 on the popular natsumelo program "Natsukashi no Utagoe" (なつかしの歌声). Sadly, she had to go solo because Akira-san passed on a decade earlier. Regrettably, Akira-san does not have any television program footage because of his early passing. He would've been such a joy to watch, I'm sure :').

https://open.spotify.com/track/1EGfLIPLsl9UH9GWVxR1N9?si=1aa1aced3de34954

(Seems like the video version is region locked, so I'm hoping Spotify can do the trick.)

Despite the lukewarm reception "Koya wo Yuku" received, it was covered by a pair of singers I least expected to cover it: jazz daddy dandy Tadaharu Nakano (中野忠晴) and blues diva Noriko Awaya (淡谷のり子). Chancing upon this in Mr. Nakano's compilation "Nakano Tadaharu onko chishin" (中野忠晴 音故知新) had me doing a double take because I knew both these artists primarily for jazz and jazzu songu (covers of Western songs that are not necessarily jazz). While singers were made to sing what’s trending, my impression was that the both Nakano and Awaya were hard-headed enough to resist singing stuff that didn’t really fit their image, i.e. Koya Mono. Hence my surprise to see both their names attached to one. In fact, it was so out of (my) left field that I didn't even recognise it to be the Matsudaira-Mamechiyo duet at first. 

Contributing to my ignorance, besides the fact that my brain was baked golden brown by several projects, was its arrangement. For one, it was significantly faster in tempo than the original. Then, despite similar instruments used, like the accordion and banjo, I perceived the Nakano-Awaya version to be more Western-sounding. It turns out that the Nakano-Awaya rendition was originally supposed to be just a dance music piece arranged and performed by French instrumental band Alexander Dance Orchestra (Orchestre de Dance Alexander). However, for one reason or another, it was never released, so vocals were added to it later so as to get some usage out of it. The manner of recording was unlike the usual method done at the time: The record containing the Orchestra's performance was played in the recording studio, and Nakano and Awaya simply sang to it. This accounts for why the music sounds weaker than the usual big band recording and why Nakano and Awaya sounded much clearer. This version would be released on February 1936. I wondered why Akira-san and Mamechiyo didn't reprise their roles for this recording, but it may as well actually be because of the ADO's Western-tinged arrangement making it more jazzu songu-like and, thus, more fitting for Mr. Nakano and Awaya. Nevertheless, for a music industry system that used to have an aversion to cover songs, this instance was certainly an oddity.

I actually quite like the Nakano-Awaya rendition for its lighthearted atmosphere. But it’s also partially because this is one of the rare instances I get to hear Nakano's baritone-tenor in almost-HD and my ears like that... ... I feel an intense glare coming from the Matsudaira photo I have displayed on my desk as I am writing this. (’°-°)

*This nickname was the brain child of Prof. Osakabe. I used to find that hilarious because of its juxtaposition to my friend Ms. C's comments about Akira-san being an adorable yet ditzy creature and I was still at that stage of clowning on the singer. But I now unironically call Akira-san my Kayo Prince, so joke's on me.

Noriko Awaya -- Wakare no Blues（別れのブルース）

 

As I mentioned yesterday, I'm supposed to be having a talk on "Tokyo House Party" this coming Saturday night about kayo kyoku in the last years of the Showa Era, particularly the Bubble Era. However, thinking about what I'm to prattle on about on the 27th, I keep pondering that I will likely have to explain what kayo kyoku is first.

When I first started "Kayo Kyoku Plus" in January 2012, my feeling was that kayo kyoku consisted of songs created during the Showa Era (December 25 1926 - January 7 1989), and I think that still holds true, generally speaking. But over the years, I've come to realize that there is that category of song within the world of kayo kyoku that can't be placed within enka or Mood Kayo (the previous two rose in the postwar years) or jazz for that matter. Perhaps I can call such tunes jun-kayo or pure Japanese pop songs. And especially in the years before World War II, even though instruments in jazz were used to record these particular numbers, maybe the jun-kayo back then were more akin to the sweet music that was played against jazz. According to one book on the history of jazz that I've read a couple of times, sweet music was more the type of orchestral stuff that was played at those polite afternoon tea parties or classy soirees since jazz at that time was often treated as the devil's music.

I think when it comes to jun-kayo, I will be more than happy to introduce one of the most famous examples and that would be "Ue wo Muite Arukou" (上を向いて歩こう) from 1961. However, although I don't own this particular 45" myself, I can also say that this ballad "Wakare no Blues" (Breakup Blues) from 1937 applies. I certainly wouldn't ever call it an enka and if the original singer, the late chanson pioneer Noriko Awaya（淡谷のり子）, were to ever hear me from the other realm use that genre term to describe it as such, she would probably hex me harder than Wanda Maximoff into the 22nd century (Awaya was definitely no fan of enka).

A song of longing and loss in romance, the lyrics by Ko Fujiura（藤浦洸）tell of a woman looking out over a harbour as the sailors get moving onto their ships and their ships get moving onto their next destination overseas. One of those sailors used to be her paramour. From what I've read on the making of "Wakare no Blues" in J-Wiki, the setting that was the model for the song was the Bund Hotel in Yokohama although I'm not sure whether the rooms actually had a good view of Yokohama Bay. Initially from reading Fujiura's lyric of "...an American harbour light...", I'd wondered whether the setting was San Francisco, but perhaps the American part was a name attached to that certain wharf. 

The music was created by Ryoichi Hattori（服部良一）, the man who launched generations of music makers, and although "Wakare no Blues" isn't the first kayo with a title that has "Blues" in it (that honour belongs to "Sweet Home Blues" recorded in 1935 by Helen Yukiko Honda), the song is seen to be the first one that helped popularize Japanese blues. However, according to "Hattori Ryoichi no Ongaku Tengoku"（服部良一の音楽天国...Ryoichi Hattori's Music Heaven） via J-Wiki, even though "Wakare no Blues" has that bluesy mood, it doesn't utilize any of the blues chords. Instead, it is more influenced by chanson and kayo stylings, so it doesn't resemble anything that would be heard in American blues. Perhaps it can be said though that Hattori was indeed the pioneer for those Japanese blues kayo that has gone on through the decades with songs such as Mina Aoe's（青江三奈）"Isezakicho Blues"（伊勢崎町ブルース）.

Another interesting thing about "Wakare no Blues" is that there had been some consternation among Awaya, Hattori and the others involved in the production about how it would be sung. Awaya had been known as one of those truly talented sopranos but the desire was that "Wakare no Blues" ought to be sung lower. In the end, the singer decided to spend a night smoking up a storm (she'd never smoked cigarettes before then) and then heading into the recording without a wink of sleep to get that certain gravitas-laden voice. Talk about suffering for one's art.

"Wakare no Blues" was covered by some more of the greats over the decades such as Naomi Chiaki（ちあきなおみ）and Hibari Misora（美空ひばり）.

Akiko Futaba/Noriko Awaya -- Yoru no Platform（夜のプラットホーム）

A couple of days ago, I wrote about Candies'（キャンディーズ） "Ginga Kuko"（銀河空港）which related the end of a relationship via an airport. Of course, airports have been the setting for many a kayo about the sweet (or not) sorrowful breakup.

But perhaps even earlier and still now, the train platform can be that other transportation hub of sadness. One example of such a kayo is "Yoru no Platform" (Night Platform) as sung by Akiko Futaba（二葉あき子）. I wrote about her late last year in her first article "Niizuma Kagami"（新妻鏡）.

Although that musical tribute to the industrious train horn is never too far away, Futaba gives that mournful performance of love lost (with perhaps a little hope that her beloved may return), and the arrangement of strings behind her reminded me of a lot of songs that I used to hear in movies that I've seen on Turner Movie Classics. The ballad with that soupcon of Latin was a huge hit for Futaba when it was released in 1947 and is seen as one of her trademark songs.

Reading the article for the actual song on J-Wiki, "Yoru no Platform" had actually been recorded originally in 1939 by singer Noriko Awaya（淡谷のり子）as a song for the movie "Tokyo no Josei"（東京の女性...Woman of Tokyo） starring Setsuko Hara（原節子）. However the sad lyrics of departure were seen as too disruptive during a time when young men were being sent off to war, and Awaya's version was quietly shelved although she recorded and performed the song years later.

Ryoichi Hattori（服部良一）was behind the melody while Yashio Okuno（奥野椰子夫）wrote the lyrics. In 1941, an English version, under the title of "I Will Be Waiting", was recorded with Hattori's name changed to R. Hatter while a fellow named Vic Maxwell provided the English words and even sang the song.

Noriko Awaya/Eiichi Arai -- Kurai Nichiyobi （暗い日曜日）

A few months ago, I got into a correspondence with a commenter on the blog about the late chanson singer Megumi Satsu（ 薩 めぐみ）which resulted in kindly receiving a lot of samples of her work. My friend was also kind enough to send me an album titled "Sombre Dimanche" or as it is called in Japanese "Kurai Nichiyobi" (Gloomy Sunday). The CD consists of different takes by Japanese artists on this song which was first published in 1933 by Hungarian pianist and composer Rezső Seress. There are some great rock versions, an operatic version and a couple of spoken-word covers by the aforementioned Satsu and Mari Natsuki（夏木マリ）.

There is an article on Wikipedia about this song which has also garnered an unfortunate urban myth (and I emphasize, it is a myth) and secondary title as "The Hungarian Suicide Song". Seress had originally written the ballad to illustrate the horrors of war but later on the poet  László Jávor added his own lyrics to the song in which the protagonist wanted to kill himself after his lover had died. Its reputation spread worldwide in 1941 after the legendary Billie Holiday released her version.

However some years before that, there was a Japanese version by the late Noriko Awaya（淡谷のり子）, the Queen of Blues, titled as "Kurai Nichiyobi" which came out in 1936. Personally, there was probably no one better suited to sing this than Awaya since according to her biography, she went through some tough times as a young girl, and as someone who used to see her only on variety specials spitting a lot of venom on various topics, I thought she had kept a lot of bitterness throughout the decades.

(Sorry but the video has been taken down.)

I also came across "Kurai Nichiyobi" as performed by blues singer Eiichi Arai（新井英一）and was struck by the rasping power of his voice. Born in 1950 in Fukuoka as a Korean-Japanese citizen, his love for the blues was born while he was working as a teenager on an American base in Iwakuni City, Yamaguchi Prefecture. In 1995, he won a Japan Music Award for his debut album "Chon-ha e no Michi~48-ban"（清河への道～48番...The 48 Verses of the Road to Chong-ha）.

Once again personally speaking, I don't find "Kurai Nichiyobi" particularly depressing at all; just beautifully sad.

Noriko Awaya/Kenji Sawada -- Amapola（アマポーラ）

First off, I have to remark on the passing of David Bowie which just hit me like a bolt of lightning when I woke up this morning. It was the top news on NHK's main broadcast, and the shock was further enhanced since it was just a few days ago that his latest and final album was released along with another photo of a beaming Bowie. I had absolutely no idea that he had even been sick.

Obviously, he had a connection with Japan through his co-starring role in "Merry Christmas, Mr. Lawrence" with Ryuichi Sakamoto（坂本龍一）, but personally for me, his album "Scary Monsters and Super Creeps" was, in a way, the soundtrack of our Toronto Japanese Language School graduating class to Japan in the summer of 1981. One of my classmates brought his Walkman along on the plane so some of us got to hear not only the title track but also one of his classic songs, "Ashes to Ashes".

The man's music, his various personae, sense of style, and just his raw looks simply had him stand out like no other singer.

I tried looking through Kenji Sawada's（沢田研二）article on J-Wiki and although I could not find anything on the matter, I've always wondered whether the singer had been inspired by Bowie in his own changes in looks through the 70s into the 80s. When I saw him for the first time on the 1981 Kohaku Utagassen all glammed up to do "STRIPPER", along with my jaw dropping, the brainwave that sliced through my most likely lone brain cell was "Bowie?"

Sawada appeared on the NHK New Year's Eve special for the 12th time in 1984, and compared to some of his past appearances, he was slightly less outrageous in fashion but no less bizarre when he performed an old chestnut that had been first introduced all the way back in 1924. As his official 43rd single, he crooned "Amapola" in the form of a pink dandyish figure supposedly on his last legs. It was quite another shift in performing direction on the Kohaku for good ol' Julie after glam rock and New Wave, but the capper was seeing fake blood gush out of him like a failing geyser right at the end of the song. Not quite sure if the execution quite worked but I have a feeling that the NHK switchboard lit up like an Xmas tree. Still, he would appear on the show 5 more times after that.

His version of "Amapola" peaked at No. 26 after its release in September 1984. The Japanese lyrics were provided by Reiko Yukawa（湯川れい子）.

"Amapola" (My Sweet Little Poppy) was originally composed by Joseph Lacalle as an instrumental piece, but after he passed away in 1937, American lyricist Albert Gamse (who also gave words to "Hail To The Chief") provided lyrics for the ballad.

Chanson and ryukoka singer Noriko Awaya（淡谷のり子）in the same year sang "Amapola" as one of her own releases. Her version definitely has a bit more Spanish spark although she doesn't actually start singing until about halfway through the song.