Isao Hayashi -- Sogen wo yuku otoko (草原をゆく男)

 

Last year, I had the honour of meeting Isao Hayashi's (林伊佐緒) eldest son, Masao Hayashi (林眞佐緒), during a mini fan club gathering in commemoration of the singer-songwriter's 30th death anniversary. It was so surreal - the octogenarian was almost a mirror image of his father, so it was like meeting Hayashi sensei, but also not really, but also really. We had lunch after visiting the Hayashi family grave, and among the several things discussed over sushi, we got a better glimpse into Isao Hayashi the man.

But first, my general impression of Hayashi sensei. He just looks like a chill guy. In photos, he's got this rather laidback, sometimes a little sleepy look. In video clips, he gives off a rather friendly, unaffected air, albeit still looking rather sleepy. His fun little ditties also had me assuming that he would've been fun-loving, and perhaps on the somewhat chattier side. Hypothetically speaking, aside from my Hachiro Kasuga, I think Hayashi would be a singer I would be less afraid to approach. 

Perhaps I'm not completely off the mark in terms of the "working outside" Hayashi as other singers have testified to him being rather easygoing. However, according to Masao, "at home" Hayashi was essentially silent. On the rare occasion he wasn't on regional recital tours (so, probably less than 10 days per month at his peak), he'd be quietly unwinding at home. The man wouldn't even hum a tune! This revelation surprised us all at the fan club luncheon, but in hindsight, if I had to be out and about for most of the month, the last thing I want to do when I get home is expend more energy. I already get like that after a single day of activity, let alone several weeks. I also recall someone saying that even in later-day TV appearances, he tended to leave the talking to others. I guess Hayashi was just a way quieter figure that I (we) had once assumed.

Anyways, let's poorly segway into the song I'll be featuring this article, Sogen wo yuku otoko (The man wandering the plains) from 1957. Hayashi composed and arranged this himself, and his partner in crime Ryo Yano (矢野亮) took care of the lyrics. It's a Western-themed tune that catches a cowboy on an aimless journey as the sun sets over the plains. It's slow, steady pace is not unlike the walking gait of the horse he's on. Our protagonist is probably a stoic lone wolf who sheds nary a tear, but something about the twilight hours has him feeling sentimental and maybe a little homesick. Hayashi's softer, more emotive vocals here, which is a departure from his usual hearty style, captures the cowboy's blues. Yet, the tender strings still somewhat hold that sense of adventure present in Wild West-themed works, so despite feeling a little down, it seems like our cowboy still looks to tomorrow for his next adventure.

 

Although Sogen wo yuku otoko has an overall forlorn quality, it encapsulates an amalgamation of my earlier impression of the singer-songwriter with what his son shared: relaxed and easygoing; somewhat reticent, but still warm and kinda fun. I like this song quite a lot - it's great during golden hour - and I guess it's why I'm starting to like Hayashi a little more than before (from the point of coming across Tokyo Serenade (東京セレナーデ), that is).

Utako Matsushima -- Kissaten no Katasumi de（喫茶店の片隅で）

 

I was in my fair share of coffee shops while I was living in Japan. Along with my regular jobs, I did have my side gigs of teaching students there. The kissaten that I frequented (although even in my past age, I don't know whether that term had already been rendered extinct) were pretty much the same classy places with masters of coffee-making manning the fort, although the one that was just around the corner from my second major school of employment in the Ichigaya area was known for its waitresses decked out in maid costumes...this was years before the Akihabara concept of maid café was formed.

Certainly, decades before I ever darkened many a wooden décor in the Tokyo area, there were coffee shops that offered gramophones playing classical music or jazz stuff (I think a few still do). And it's one such establishment playing the former genre that is the setting for "Kissaten no Katsumi de" (In a Corner of the Coffee Shop). An April 1955 single by the Yamaguchi Prefecture-born Utako Matsushima（松島詩子）, it's a kayo kyoku with a feeling as reassuring and calming as that wisp of steam emanating from a cup of java as a young couple gets together in a more intimate area of their favourite kissaten while Chopin is playing. Ryo Yano（矢野亮）was behind the lyrics while Tadaharu Nakano（中野忠晴）took care of the melody.

You can also have a listen to Matsushima's duet with Isao Hayashi（林伊佐緒）, "Ginza Yakyoku"（銀座夜曲）.

Isao Hayashi -- Konpira Swing (金毘羅スイング)

So, I recently joined the fan club of an early Showa singer-songwriter from King Records who was known for jazz and created works for Hachiro Kasuga (春日八郎). 

Yes, that's right, I joined the Hayashi Isao Shinobu Kai (林伊佐緒偲ぶ会).

Wait, what?

No, I did not glitch out. I really did join Isao Hayashi's (林伊佐緒) club, making it the third posthumous fan club I've joined in the span of four months. This is in addition to Hachi's and Bin Uehara's (上原敏)... Y'know, I feel like it wasn't too long ago when I was lamenting about how hard it was to find and join these shinobu kai (posthumous fan clubs). I certainly did not expect a membership speedrun.

To give a bit of context, I'd been offered the opportunity to enter the club from its chairman, Toru Yamane (山根徹), with whom I'd been interacting with from time to time on social media through a shared interest in Akira Matsudaira (松平晃). Thinking that it'd be a good experience, I quickly agreed to it. This would give me the chance to learn more about the long-lived artist and his illustrious career, and perhaps even see what Hachi was like through the perspective of the Hayashi fan club. Plus, it would give me the excuse to finally visit Yamaguchi prefecture for those Hayashi exhibitions.

Anyways, I wouldn't say I know next to nothing about Hayashi, considering his huge presence (both metaphorically and physically) in the kayo world, but I currently only know the following basics about Hayashi besides the fact that he was a composer behind Hachi's hits:

1. He is dubbed Japan's first singer-songwriter.

2. He was the Japan Singer Association's 4th chairman.

3. He dabbled in jazz-minyo.

With regards to 3, that was exactly how I got to know of him ages ago. I somehow came across his funky "Mamurogawa Boogie" (真室川ブギ) and marveled at the wild mixture of the cosmopolitan Western jazz and countryside Japanese minyo. The latter was never easy for me to stomach (even now), so Hayashi essentially added the sugar to make it go down. He was my first introduction to this combination way, way, way before I even registered the existence of Tadaharu Nakano (中野忠晴) and Ryoichi Hattori (服部良一). Joining the club gave me the impetus to re-open Hayashi's treasure trove of jazz-minyo that I'd unwittingly forgotten in favour of Mr. Nakano.

Hayashi had been mixing up the two genres since the prewar era, but only became more recognised for it in the postwar era, the aforementioned "Mamurogawa Boogie" being the primary example. Another one of this postwar creations I just dug up and took a keen liking too was "Konpira Swing."

"Konpira Swing" was released in January 1954. I think this was around when the postwar jazz and Kasagi Shizuko (笠置シヅ子) Boogie-Woogie craze was cooling off, but it didn't stop Hayashi from making this snazzy, dance-worthy number. 

"Konpira Swing" was based on "Konpira Fune-fune," (金毘羅船々) a minyo native to Kagawa prefecture on the island of Shikoku. This folk song originally centered around the town of Kotohira, known for the Konpira Daigongen (金毘羅大権現) deity. Besides the J-Wiki, I was reading up on the tune via this old Shikoku Shimbun project detailing 110 cultural "objects" of Kagawa. You can look it up here.

From my understanding, the Konpira Daigongen, which resides in the Kotohiragu temple on Mt. Zouzu, was quite the popular religious pilgrimage spot, and there were ferries that brought you to Kagawa from Osaka. The minyo was based on this ferry route, the boats literally called the Konpira Fune (Konpira Boat), which began service in 1744. The recognisable "shura-shu-shu-shu" bit is supposed to be onomatopoeia for the tail wind catching the boat sails and sending you straight to Kotohira. The Naka no Gori region mentioned in the lyric seems to point to the modern-day Kagawa Nakatado-gun district where temple is. On top of this, "Konpira Fune-fune" used in zashiki asobi, or private geisha entertainment, back in the Edo and Meiji periods and sung while playing little party games. It's still used today at the likes of festivals and cultural exchanges.

Re-working the lyrics to fit Hayashi's raucous arrangement was Yano Ryo (矢野亮). Yano kept to the source material in the first stanza, but immediately took a sharp left into humourous territory. This has Hayashi taking us on a whirlwind ride of randomness in his carefree, breezy style, from frying a variety of tempura to strolling the streets of modern 1950s Tokyo. Interestingly, I think the original folk song's signature "shura-shu-shu-shu" found application in the Yano's seemingly bizarre mix of situations. The tempura bubbling in the hot oil, the kite (bird of prey) swooping around eyeing the young tofu seller's aburaage, slurping up sake and whiskey on a magically empty wallet. These sound like they'd go "shura-shu-shu-shu" too, don't they? 

One of the reasons why I like the fusion jazz kayo/minyo/zokuyo from the 1930s to the 1950s is the element of humour - the singers themselves sounding like they were having fun recording it too. "Konpira Swing," as I had just described, is a great example of that, I think. 

(　ﾟдﾟ) 

Admittedly, even I didn’t expect to join Hayashi’s fan club because I didn’t consider myself a big enough fan of the musician. Those around me expressed surprise too because I rarely, if ever, bring him up in my kayo rambles. But, I think this will be a good experience and I look forward to getting to know Hayashi better.

Right, then. Time to dig around for some Hachi-Hayashi compositions.

Hachiro Kasuga -- Hawaii no Shima kara (ハワイの島から)

 

My Hachiro Kasuga (春日八郎) tribute articles have so far been heavily fixated on the Hachi-Mr. Nakano combo, so let's change things up a bit and talk about a piece by the other singer-songwriter with a knack for jazz King Records was known for: Isao Hayashi (林伊佐緒). 

I'm comparatively not as familiar with Hayashi's compositions for Hachi (and just Hayashi in general), but I know for certain that the Hachi-Hayashi combo was the far more successful one, spawning hits on a far larger scale. Not only was the Yamaguchi native responsible for Hachi's revival hit "Nagasaki no Hito" (長崎の女) in 1962, but he also created some fan favourites like "Rozario no Shima" (ロザリオの島), "Umineko ga Naku Hatoba" (海猫の啼く波止場), and the one I personally hold quite close to my heart, "Nigate nanda yo" (苦手なんだよ). Perhaps because of the string of successes and Hayashi's longevity age-wise, it seems that both the singer and musician collaborated a lot more and for a longer span of time, from the 1950s all the way up to the 1980s.

While I think Tadaharu Nakano's (中野忠晴) compositions provide a fun listening experience with their myriad of instruments and amusing arrangements, I would describe Hayashi's as atmospheric and rather exotic. They make it feel as though you're being transported to the location set by the lyricist. So, where shall Hayashi and Hachi bring us today, then? Well, summer is already in full force in the Tokyo area. I just began my summer vacation... How about Hawaii?

The song I'll be featuring today is "Hawaii no Shima kara" (From the Island of Hawaii). This was actually an unreleased piece that only saw the light of day in 1997 via the CD album containing a number of his shelved tunes, "Hizou Mi-happyou Meikyoku-shuu Kasuga Hachiro" (秘蔵未発表名曲集 春日八郎). 

Despite "Hawaii..." being an unreleased song, I'm guessing that it may have been recorded in the early 1960s judging from its theme and Hachi's voice quality. If my memory serves, like jazz, I believe Hawaiian melodies got a resurgence in the postwar era, and Hawaii just seemed like the dream island getaway ever since, so Hawaiian-themed songs around this era were the norm. As for Hachi's voice, it had a high, nasally twang in the 50s that slowly became less and less noticeable progressing into the 60s when it matured. His voice sounded like it was somewhere towards the end of that transition, but I could be wrong... ... Never have I felt the term "maniac" in my bones more than when I made that point, which is saying a lot when I have Sanrio photo card holders with monochrome photos of 7 men with an average age of 109.

Anyways, since "Hawaii no Shima kara" is a tune centered on Hawaii, Hayashi makes it unmistakably so with the sharp metallic twang of that steel guitar slicing through the languid, ukulele-filled melody. But what I like about it is how that same shrill steel guitar drops a few notes and pulsates hypnotically to a rhythmic beat. That reminded me of Katsuhiko Haida (灰田勝彦), his brother Haruhiko Haida (灰田晴彦),  and the New Moana Glee Club's take of "Beauty Hula," which I began listening to just before I came across "Hawaii...." You can give it a listen in the video above. To make the tune even more so Hawaiian, the instrumental bit after the first stanza also included the widely-known folk tune "Aloha Oe."  I know it's cliché to say, but together with Hachi's relaxed tone, listening to "Hawaii..." feels like the ear version of melting on a quiet beach without any worries, drink in hand.

But as holiday-like as "Hawaii..." sounds, Ryo Yano's (矢野亮) words may possibly tell a slightly different story. From my understanding, the protagonist leaves the Land of the Rising Sun for Hawaii (via Haneda), and feels rather nostalgic for their homeland. Since the lyrics give off a more bokyo-esque vibe, it could be about a Japanese person immigrating to Hawaii who then misses the sights and sounds of home, like Mt. Fuji and local festivals. It sounds plausible since many Japanese folks have been immigrating to the Polynesian islands for ages. Also, I don't think you'll feel that homesick if you're just on a few days of vacation, right? Or is that just me? 

Now that's fan service

I enjoy "Hawaii no Shima kara" quite a lot, so I'm curious about the reason why it was shelved. It could be just simply because the record company powers that be just didn't think it'd sell, or maybe another singer from King did something similar but "better." Who knows.

Hachiro Kasuga's Early Kohaku Utagassen Songs（春日八郎）

 

A few days ago on Thursday, my fellow KKP writer and co-administrator Noelle Tham posted her "Noelle's Favourite Hachiro Kasuga Songs Composed by Tadaharu Nakano" (中野忠晴作曲お気に入りの春日八郎曲) article in tribute to the fact that the First Enka Singer had been born in 1924, a hundred years ago. She also kindly extended the invitation to anyone else involved in the blog to provide their own angle on the late Fukushima native who had passed away in 1991 at the age of 67.

Well, I'm never going to decline that invitation especially when it seems as if I haven't heard many renditions of his old songs recently on shows such as "Uta Con"（うたコン）. But not being as much of an expert on Kasuga as Noelle, I hadn't been sure about how to go about it. Therefore, I've opted to take a slowly, slowly approach and take a look at his first several appearances on the national broadcaster's New Year's Eve special, the Kohaku Utagassen.

For the record, Kasuga appeared a total of 21 times on the Kohaku ranging from 1954 to 1989. His longest continuous stretch went from 1956 (the 7th edition) to 1969 (the 20th). 

So, without further ado:

(1954) Otomi-San (お富さん) 1st appearance on the 5th edition in 1954

Noelle posted an article on "Otomi-san", based on the kabuki play of a cad trying to extort money from a wealthy merchant's concubine only to find out that the lass is his ex-girlfriend. Well, that's dang awkward...sounds perfect for a rom-com/thriller movie if updated. And as Noelle pointed out, the melody by Masanobu Tokuchi (渡久地政信) sounds so up-and-at-'em cheerful so I'm hoping that there was at least some humour in the original play. Actually, I got to know "Otomi-san" through a skit involving the late comedian Ken Shimura（志村けん）and aidoru/tarento Yoko Ishino（石野よう子）. You can take a look below at the video at 4:46.

(1955) Wakare no Ippon Sugi (別れの一本杉) 2nd appearance on the 7th edition in 1956

One of the most famous kayo kyoku around and perhaps Kasuga's most representative recording, "Wakare no Ippon Sugi" is a melancholy song reflecting what was happening in Japan at the time as it struggled to recover from the ashes of war. Tens of thousands of people were being heavily encouraged to move from the countryside to the cities to work in the factories and the offices to get the nation back on its feet again, and the song itself was the story of one person making that lonely move away from his hometown. The above video shows Kasuga performing "Wakare no Ippon Sugi" for the 2nd time on the 1969 edition. He wouldn't appear again until the end of 1974.

(1957) Haha no Tayori（母の便り）3rd appearance on the 8th edition in 1957

I was scrolling down the Kasuga file on KKP to see if either Noelle or I had actually covered it. Maybe it's included in one of Noelle's compilations but I know now that it hasn't been done under my watch, so here it is. Written by Ryo Yano（矢野亮）and composed by Akira Maki（真木陽）, as with "Wakare no Ippon Sugi", "Haha no Tayori" (A Letter from Mother) is something to get the tears flowing as a son working far away from his family gets that letter from his mother to see how things are (and probably when he's coming back). The opening bars of "Haha no Tayori" say it all: it feels/sounds like a mother diligently doing the regular chores at the farmhouse knowing that her boy is giving it his all for home and country.

(1958) Wakare no Toudai（別れの燈台）4th appearance on the 9th edition in 1958

Another song that I haven't covered in the Kasuga file, initially I'd thought that "Wakare no Toudai" (Farewell at the Lighthouse) was a song of heartbreak because my impression was that the titular lighthouse would be the ideal sight in the distance for a romance to end tearfully. But perhaps I've been watching one too many J-Dramas in the past. Reading the lyrics by Kikutaro Takahashi（髙橋掬太郎） , it's more along the theme of the immediately preceding two songs...a man leaves his seaside town by ship to a faraway place in Japan or even completely overseas to make his own mark. Kenji Yoshidaya（吉田矢健治）was responsible for the wistful melody.

(1959) Tokyo no Ari（東京の蟻）5th appearance on the 10th edition in 1959

Both Noelle and I have given our respective articles regarding "Tokyo no Ari", and now having this song alongside some of Kasuga's other entries here, this 1959 hit stands out even more for its Mood Kayo sense complete with tinkling piano and bluesy saxophone. The theme of loneliness in the big city continues here as well but while the others dealt with it from the wistful rural side of things, "Tokyo no Ari" has Kasuga commiserating over his beer from the frustrating city side as he feels little different from Family Formicidae in terms of his service to the nation.

Michiya Mihashi -- Ringo Hana Saku Furusato e（リンゴ花咲く故郷へ）

 

I was listening to some of Michiya Mihashi's（三橋美智也）material a couple of days ago for some of that enka shibui-ness. But according to my fellow blog co-administrator and expert on the old Showa Era music, Noelle Tham, the term enka itself wasn't officially put into Japan's lexicon until 1970. Basically between the end of World War II and that year, enka had once been split apart into different subsets of kayo kyoku, including bokyo kayo（望郷歌謡...popular songs of homesickness）. With the nation's strenuous efforts to rise from the ashes on all levels, a lot of young people were heavily encouraged to move from the towns and villages to the big cities like Tokyo to do their part in the companies and factories to man the engines of their economy. Of course, the new generations working there could get homesick from time to time which got songwriters and singers to come up with the wistful ballads of the old hometown which would also get the workers even more homesick.

Well, the First Man of Enka (though he was probably given that title after 1970), Mihashi, came up with a huge hit in "Ringo Mura kara"（リンゴ村から）in 1956. The words and music were by Ryo Yano（矢野亮）and Isao Hayashi（林伊佐緒）respectively as the Hokkaido native sang nostalgically about the old apple orchard village up north. Then, the singer and songwriters were thinking whether lightning or apples could strike twice and so they collaborated once more on the 1957 "Ringo Hana Saku Furusato e" (To the Hometown of Apple Blossoms).

The song was on that recording of Mihashi that I have so I wanted to see if I could write about it, and with the YouTube video present, I could indeed do so. As with the earlier "Ringo Mura kara", "Ringo Hana Saku Furusato e" displays the melody as an old-fashioned wistful ditty of a wagon on an old dirt road while Mihashi sings of hearth and home among the apple trees. Perhaps listeners had a sense memory of the sweet scent of the apples.

Come to think of it, being the final day of September, I can imagine that the apple farms here in the province of Ontario are all very busy right now with the autumn harvest. I can no longer easily make it out to the orchards anymore, but it's nice remembering going there as a kid and having fresh apples, apple pie, apple cider and even apple strudel.

Michiya Mihashi/Kouhei Fukuda/Kiyoshi Hikawa -- Haha Koi Fubuki（母恋吹雪）

 

It's been a few years since I've put up a Michiya Mihashi（三橋美智也）kayo so I thought it was time to bring back some of his enka.

"Haha Koi Fubuki" (Mother's Love in a Blizzard) is a 1956 single that Mihashi released under the aegis of lyricist Ryo Yano（矢野亮）and composer Isao Hayashi（林伊佐緒）. It's an enka that probably had tear ducts flowing as the story tells of a man very much at the end of his rope one wintry night with his hands wrapped tightly around the bottle and wondering whatever happened to his parents (and presumably his entire life) who hadn't been with him long before leaving him alone. The record was a huge hit for Mihashi as it sold two million records.

There were covers made of Mihashi's trademark song including one by current enka singer Kouhei Fukuda（福田こうへい）. His version was released in 2016 as a track on his "Akogare ~ Mihashi Michiya wo Utau"（憧 〜三橋美智也を唄う〜...Yearnings ~ The Songs of Michiya Mihashi）. Kiyoshi Hikawa（氷川きよし）also provided his own cover in 2013 through the album "Hikawa Kiyoshi ~ Enka Meikyoku Collection 18: Shigure no Minato"（氷川きよし・演歌名曲コレクション18〜しぐれの港〜...Kiyoshi Hikawa: Enka Masterpiece Collection 18 ~ Late Autumn Harbour）.

Isao Hayashi & Utako Matsushima -- Ginza Yakyoku（銀座夜曲）

 

I've wondered what one of the world's most expensive neighbourhoods, Ginza in Tokyo, must have been like in the immediate postwar period. Perhaps it hadn't been quite as rich, bright and neon-populated before Japan began its gradual economic rise from the ashes but maybe even back then, it was a bustling area.

Singer-songwriter Isao Hayashi（林伊佐緒）and singer Utako Matsushima（松島詩子）released a single in 1949 called "Ginza Yakyoku" (Ginza Nocturne) which turned out to be quite the happy trot of a kayo kyoku, so maybe it's safe to assume that things were doing all right on the street. Written by Ryo Yano（矢野亮）and composed by Hayashi himself, it's an upbeat tune which makes for a refreshing change since I've often thought of Ginza being melodically memorialized through the bluesier Mood Kayo.

This is Matsushima's first entry in "Kayo Kyoku Plus", so a little attempt at a biography will be given here. Born Shima Utsumi（内海シマ）in 1905, she hailed from Yamaguchi Prefecture and as a young woman in her twenties, she was teaching at elementary school and high school in her home province. However, in 1932, Utsumi was bitten by the singing bug and made her debut behind the mike. After a few name changes, she settled on Utako Matsushima in 1935 in which she earned her first hit, "Yuube Honoka ni"（夕べ仄かに...Last Night, Faintly）.

Methinks that the above isn't the version that was put out in 1950 with just Hayashi singing "Ginza Yakyoku" as a single. However, I do like this cover for its tropical lounge arrangement. I wonder if cocktail shakers were used as part of the percussion. 

Now the reason that I chose this kayo is that "Ginza Yakyoku" as performed by Hayashi was one of the songs that got onto the very first Kohaku Utagassen（紅白歌合戦）on January 3rd 1951 via NHK Radio. Interestingly enough, Matsushima was also invited onto that 1st edition, but to perform her own contribution. Both singers became quick veterans on the annual special with Hayashi appearing 11 times while Matsushima performed 10 times. Matsushima would release singles well into the 1980s; she passed away in 1996 at the age of 91.

Hachiro Kasuga -- An Tokya Doshaburi（あん時ゃどしゃ降り）

 

We had our share of heavy rain last week, and the only thing that I fretted about was whether one of our rooms would be getting flooded once more. That is of course a huge pain.

But according to singer Hachiro Kasuga（春日八郎）, his memories of downpours are far more romantic ones...and apparently very local. The title of his 1957 enka, "An Tokya Doshaburi" (There Was a Downpour Back Then), and the lyrics by Ryo Yano（矢野亮）seem to be done up in a dialect but I can't really pinpoint which one. Is it Edokko (Tokyo) or something from his home prefecture of Fukushima?

Whichever is the case, "An Tokya Doshaburi" is a mellow and slightly woozy enka tune with Kasuga's protagonist remembering back to some love, perhaps first sighted during a very rainy day or night. Maybe the lens of that memory is the bottom of a glass of beer or some other strong libation but along with composer Toshio Saeki's（佐伯としを）addition of the rain, comes a trombone to add a slightly tipsy element to the old kayo arrangement.

Not sure how the song did back then, but Kasuga did appear on the 1976 Kohaku Utagassen on New Year's Eve, his 18th out of 21 appearances on the special, to perform it.

Hachiro Kasuga -- Ano Hoshi to Katarou (あの星と語ろう)

Now that's a smile.

Well, this is a lot more normal than Saxophone Haru-san, isn't it? Just a beaming Hachi. Still, I'd say the temperature of this is of the same caliber as the former.

It's been years since I last did a complete Yonin Shu set. To recap, I used to do articles on Hachiro Kasuga (春日八郎), Michiya Mihashi (三橋美智也). Hideo Murata (村田英雄) and Haruo Minami (三波春夫) consecutively since they were often lumped together in the history books. As such, I thought I should reprise it for good ol' time's sake and to celebrate (albeit belatedly) the 7th anniversary of KKP. With Minami's installment done a few days back, it's time for Kasuga's, and the song I will be featuring is "Ano Hoshi to Katarou".

The guy had dimples for days.

Out of the hidden gems I've uncovered from Hachi's discography thus far, "Ano Hoshi to Katarou" remains a perennial favourite, unlikely to drop from its spot on the podium in my Top 12 list, and I think that's saying something because I did find many other great songs.

One of the main draws to this tune is its bright, Group Soundsy score. Brought to you by Eiji Kawakami (川上英一), the shrill trumpets blended with soft strings playing to a groovy toe-tapping beat is so atypical of the one who was known for a genre on the opposite end of the spectrum. And yet, he sounded right at home as he belted out each line in a rich, semi-operatic manner. Then there are the lyrics that Ryo Yano, a frequent collaborator of Kasuga's, had provided that gives "Ano Hoshi to Katarou" some essence of enka. It revolves our main character, who'd left home for work in the city, confiding with the stars when he's lonely. A very bokyo enka topic, isn't it? That was why I described this song as just that, but in a flashy, modern (by that era's standard) skin.

"Ano Hoshi to Katarou" was released on August 1965. Along with it came "Osaka no Akari" (大阪の灯), which overshadowed the former in all sense of the word being a true blue enka-yo; Hachi even sang it during the '65 Kohaku. Being so deeply buried, even people who've been fans of his since the beginning of time don't know of it: When I was at Kasuga's museum, I asked one such fan and the museum caretaker if they knew "Ano Hoshi to Katarou", and they looked perplexed. I had to point it out on the his discography record on one wall, and even so they were shocked to know that dear Hachi sang such a song. I find it a pity that such an amazing song barely got to see the limelight, but I'm glad that I can at least give it some more recognition now by writing about it here.

In Singapore, it'd be satellites you'd be talking to.
Ano Satellite to Katarou... Frankly, not as great a title.

Ken Takakura -- Kiri no Hatoba/Nakaseruze（霧の波止場／泣かせるぜ）

In the late Ken Takakura's（高倉健）roles, he could be seen as the dependable fellow who can protect you when the going gets tough or the guy you don't want to ever meet in an open plaza let alone in a dark alley.

Back in late 2014, I wrote about his song "Abashiri Bangaichi" （網走番外地）from 1965. Takakura never had a particularly long discography with his most prolific period being in the 1960s, but by my estimation, he wasn't too bad a singer. His growling delivery when singing was just as good at relating a hard-knock life as was his acting.

I came across this video of a single that he released in February 1967, and it contains both the A-side and B-side. The A-side is "Kiri no Hatoba" (Foggy Wharf) which provides the setting of many an enka/Mood Kayo scene of romance and breakup gets its fame. Written by Ryo Yano（矢野亮）and composed by Toshio Shiraishi（白石十四男）, Takakura seems to give a resigned story of life in a way that flows out like an enka tune despite the arrangement that sounds like it was meant to be performed in a swanky nightclub...i.e. Mood Kayo. The rhythm itself kinda lends to a feeling of a wayward vagabond and if it weren't for the arrangement, I would have thought it more fitting for a masterless samurai wandering through Edo Era Japan.

Both Yano and Shiraishi were also responsible for the definitely Mood Kayo B-side, "Nakaseruze" (Make You Cry). The relentless piano and saxophone set the tone for Takakura as he sounds like a veteran gangster sullenly doing his job with little enjoyment but with plenty of duty. "Nakaseruze" is perhaps a cautionary tale to a young punk or a fellow barfly about what getting into the dark side of life may entail. Both songs help define the term shibui to anyone asking about the old-time music.

Michiya Mihashi -- Ringo Mura kara（リンゴ村から）

Apples are my fruit. I was practically weaned on Macintosh, Golden Delicious, etc. and apple pie (especially the crumble-top variety) will always be my favourite form of the pastry. When we were kids, it was an October tradition for the family to head over to Chudleigh's Apple Farm just west of Toronto to go pick those apples. That crisp autumn morning over there provided some wonderful goodies in the form of the aroma of baking apple pie and apple strudel, and often enough, we would be plied with warm and sweet apple cider. It's one of the things that I miss doing nowadays.

On tonight's episode of NHK's "Uta Kon"（うたコン）, the theme was the autumn festival in Sendai, and the Tohoku area of Japan is well known for its own apple orchards. I got to hear an enka tune performed originally by Michiya Mihashi（三橋美智也）, sung tonight by Midori Oka（丘みどり）, that I'd never heard before titled "Ringo Mura kara" (From The Village of Apples).

This was a single released back in 1956 by Mihashi that has the sentimental ring of the old hometown, a trope in kayo kyoku that was quite popular back then for all those folks who made the journey to the big cities like Tokyo to find work. The lyrics by Ryo Yano（矢野亮）start right off the bat with "Do you remember?" which could have set a lot of eyes watering up at the memories.

The music was composed by Isao Hayashi（林伊佐緒）, and Mihashi's delivery is strong but perhaps also somewhat mournful as if reflecting the feelings of all those who made that big move to the city but will not be able to return for a long while. "Ringo Mura kara" is considered to be one of Mihashi's classics and it ended up selling around 2.7 million records which is apparently his 2nd-most successful hit among his kayo songs. According to J-Wiki, "Ringo Mura kara" is tied with "Hoshikuzu no Machi" (星屑の町), and both songs are behind his No. 1 kayo hit, "Kojou"（古城）.

Isao Hayashi -- Okosa Rumba（おこさルンバ）/ The Drifters -- Drifters no Okosa Bushi（ドリフのおこさ節）

Happy Monday to you all! I was talking with Noelle the other day on her fine article describing her favourite kayo from the 1950s, and one point we were discussing was how brave it was for singer-songwriter Isao Hayashi（林伊佐緒）to have created one of Japan's first examples of fusion music through his "Mamurogawa Boogie" (1954), a blend of jazz and minyo.

Well, in the same year in May, Hayashi wasn't through with his experimentation. He also concocted another mix but this time, it was minyo and Latin. This coalesced into "Okosa Rumba" with Ryo Yano（矢野亮）providing the lyrics. "Okosa Rumba" was based on the Okosa bushi（おこさ節...Okosa dance）, a minyo from Akita Prefecture according to this webpage. I'm not sure if the masses were scandalized by this mixture of genres back in the early 1950s but listening to it now, I'm quite comfortable with it as another example of kayo.

My way around minyo is very limited aside from the fact that I can recognize the genre, but from what I've seen on YouTube, it seems like songs such as "Okosa Bushi", though they swirl around a basic melody line, can have a number of variations depending on the lyricists, composers and arrangers. The comedy team The Drifters（ザ・ドリフターズ）also released their own "Okosa Bushi" as "Drifters no Okosa Bushi"（ドリフのおこさ節...The Drifters' Okosa Bushi）back in 1970. Rei Nakanishi（なかにし礼）wrote the lyrics (although no composer was given aside from the credits saying that it is a Japanese minyo) with member Cha Kato（加藤茶）singing in his happy and comical way. Of course, ever-angry leader Chosuke Ikariya（いかりや長介）went on another tirade near the end.

Hachiro Kasuga -- Are kara Juu-nen Tatta ka na（あれから十年たったかなァ）

Last night was a bit disappointing in terms of the weekly kayo program although I could understand the timing. Instead of the usual episode of "Uta Con"（うたコン）coming back after the Holiday hiatus, we got the highlight show with a small group of kayo singers simply watching and commenting on past performances over 2017. My parents' grumbling mood wasn't helped by the fact that there were one singer and one co-host that neither liked very much at all.

So, allow me to source this from the episode of "Itsuki-sensei o Utau! SHOW Gakko"（五木先生の 歌う！SHOW学校）that we caught the Tuesday before. Along with the Haruo Oka（岡晴夫）tribute, I also paid notice to a Hachiro Kasuga（春日八郎）number which I hadn't heard before.

Titled "Are kara Juu-nen Tatta ka na" (Has It Been 10 Years?), it was released in 1959, and right from the title, the nostalgia is baked right in. Written by Ryo Yano（矢野亮）and composed by Minoru Watabe（渡部実）, at first, I had assumed that the song was about a guy reminiscing about celebrating and commiserating over life with an old friend in a ramshackle boarding house a decade prior. However as I went over the lyrics some more, I believe that there was something far more romantic involved in that threadbare room with a man and a woman conducting a tryst and then perhaps reluctantly going their separate ways. Probably the same questions have popped up in the man's head about how the lass is doing, where she's living and with whom?

(23:16)

Considering that in a couple of weeks, "Kayo Kyoku Plus" will be reaching its 6th anniversary, the song may be 4 years early but I guess in a way, the number might rather fit my feelings about the blog right now.

Michiya Mihashi -- Akai Yuuhi no Furusato （赤い夕陽の故郷）/ Hachiro Kasuga -- Umineko no Naku Hatoba （海猫の啼く波止場）

Well, out of the 45"s grab bag today, I got a 2-for-1 deal. To explain, I found this relatively thick single record that had two different and legendary kayo singers and their songs with the only thing in common being their release year which was 1958. So I said, why not cover them both in the same article?

On one side is Michiya Mihashi's（三橋美智也）"Akai Yuuhi no Furusato" (Home of the Red Setting Sun) which begins and ends with the singer bellowing "Oi!" as the beckoning call of the ol' hometown. Pure and clear as the waters of that countryside hamlet, Mihashi's voice calls out for the working stiffs in Tokyo to come back and spend some happy times again.

The deep twang of the guitar and the occasional appearance of the marimba joining the traditional strings had me thinking that this ode to the heartland would have been performed in some city nightclub trying to get the customers dreaming of home once again. Perhaps it could have been thought as being somewhat counter-intuitive since folks heading back to the countryside would have meant fewer patrons in those dancing-and-drinking lounges but hey, I'm betting even the proprietors wanted to head back home once in a while.

"Akai Yuuhi no Furusato" was written by Hiroshi Yokoi（横井弘）and composed by Tadaharu Nakano（中野忠晴）. Imagine coming back home at sunset to a welcoming family with the bath and a good hot meal all ready for you.

The flip side has Hachiro Kasuga's（春日八郎）"Umineko no Naku Hatoba" (The Wharf of the Black-Tailed Gulls). This one was written by Ryo Yano（矢野亮）and composed by Isao Hayashi（林伊佐緒）(although for some reason, J-Wiki has Yokoi writing this one...a definite error since my 45" has Yano as the lyricist).

Given my relative lack of knowledge in the enka/Mood Kayo genres, I had been having my problems distinguishing the voices of Mihashi and Kasuga. Well, thanks to discovering this record, I no longer have to worry. Whereas Mihashi has those pearly higher tones, Kasuga has a slightly more garrulous and lower delivery. As for "Umineko no Naku Hatoba", Kasuga's ballad kinda wavers into the Mood Kayo territory as the singer talks and croons about ending up falling in love with that special woman on the wharf. But is the hero happy about it? Being a Mood Kayo, not necessarily. With the horns and especially that mournful saxophone, the palooka is probably at some bar near the titular wharf filled with alcohol and a lot of complicated emotions about what to do since being in love with the sea was far simpler than actually going head-over-heels with a lady. Ah, that is life.

My respects for the owner of this old player and the 78" version of the song. In a way, I guess the song does sound like something from an even earlier decade.

Hachiro Kasuga -- An' Tokya Doshaburi (あん時ゃどしゃ降り)

It's been raining quite a lot recently in Singapore - the early January weather has been pushed back to now. Can't complain, with it cooling the place down to temperatures as low as 24°C during the day and bringing along some chilly winds. It feels good to be able to walk to and fro from the train station to work without breaking a sweat, and not feel like you're being baked like a pineapple tart in a relative's house during Chinese New Year visits.  Also, I find that it's the perfect time for rain-related songs such as Hachiro Kasuga's (春日八郎) "An' Tokya Doshaburi" - overcast skies, rain-streaked windows, and (at night) puddles reflecting light from lamps/buildings provide a better ambiance.

Aw man, young Hachi was really cute...

This 1957 single from the First Enka Singer had its words written by Ryo Yano (矢野亮) and the music done by Toshio Saeki (佐伯としを). "An' Tokya Doshaburi" sounds like a short form/slang for "Ano Toki Doshaburi" and translates to something on the line of "It was raining at that time". Here, Hachi sings about our main character reminiscing about his first love during a downpour - t'was during such a scenario where they met, and later when they broke up. He seems to still have some feelings for her judging by his bitterness, and wonders how she's doing in the present. That's some romance flick stuff right there. Going on to a tangent here but to make this more "Hollywood", in the present timeline, his first love should appear - they recognize each other, he runs up to her (in the rain, of course) and gives her a tight embrace, then they express their ever-present feelings for each other before walking off into the night as a happy couple once again... in the rain. Cliche, but pretty sure it'll still sell.

Coming back to the song, I thought Saeki's score sets the scene well as it sounds like the skies just opened up - the booming horns are like thunder and the crashing cymbals are like the pitter-patter of the rain on the ground.

"An' Tokya Doshaburi" seems to be decently popular since there are a number of covers of it in the recent years by the younger enka singers like Hiroshi Miyama (三山ひろし) , whose version I put up, and Konomi Mori (杜このみ).

Happy Chinese New Year to you guys!

Michiya Mihashi -- Iwate no Osho-san (岩手の和尚さん)

This article isn't on Hiroshi Tachi, but I thought this snapshot of him from an "Abunai Deka" episode I found on Twitter thoroughly represents how I felt as I watched the "Uta Kon" tribute to the Minyo superstar from Hakodate, Michiya Mihashi (三橋美智也). "Uta Kon" is definitely taking a step in the right direction with their weekly tributes to singers/songwriters from bygone days. Now if they could just do that for the rest of the Yon'nin Shu and the likes of Yujiro Ishihara, that'd be great.

Besides a brief history of him, a good number of Michi's hits were highlighted via the night's guests and the VTR clips. I felt glad that I knew and I liked almost all of what was being mentioned save for one or two. There were my old and perennial favourites like "Hoshikuzu no Machi" (星屑の町) and "Kojou" (古城), and the newly acquired "Ringo no Mura kara" (リンゴ村から) and "Akai Yuhi no Furusato" (赤い夕陽の故郷). However, I was sort of hoping to hear this tune that's both a favourite and relatively new to my Michi playlist, "Iwate no Osho-san". It would definitely have spiced things up, especially since the tribute focused more on his serious and/or melancholic tracks.

With the musical styling by Kenji Yoshidaya (吉田矢健治) , "Iwate no Osho-san" feels like fusion of East and West. The former would be from the screaming trumpets and droning horns that provide an Oriental vibe that befits a song that revolves around a monk; the latter comes from the catchy, upbeat percussions which have a Latin touch. Ryo Yano's (矢野亮) lyrics then has Mihashi singing about what I think are monks from the said prefecture coming down from the frigid mountains to the main village to celebrate some festival. From how Yoshidaya's score changes from quiet to raucous within the first few seconds of the song, the abbots must've been meditating or going about their peaceful lives before they realise it's time head down the mountain to "PARTY HARRDD!!!"... Well, maybe not too hard.

"Iwate no Osho-san" was released in 1958 and was also one of Mihashi's many successes. Looking at the J-Wiki, it wasn't one of his top 18 enka-yo hits, so perhaps that was why it wasn't featured on "Uta Kon" - or at least there wasn't time to include it.

One thing I've realised about the tributes to Michi I've watched (mostly online, until now) is that they don't talk about his disco phase. I thought that there would be minimally some mention of it since that was quite a transition he made in the 70's, but I guess not. I wonder if it wasn't that memorable, or many only want to remember the veteran by his enka and minyo, and disco which may have been seen as an act of folly. Too bad, "Disco Tengoku" (ディスコ天国) on the NHK stage would've been incredible.

(I'm sorry but the video has been taken down.)

Here's Kouhei Fukuda's (福田こうへい) rendition of "Iwate no Osho-san" to round things up. It was from this great "Special Stage" on a "Shin Nippon no Uta" episode where I discovered this song - there were tributes to a whole barrage of showa era enka/ryukoka singers.

Dang, would'ya look at that smile. This album doesn't have
the song, but it's really amusing.

page18.auctions.yahoo.co.jp/jp/auction/w137892292

Michiya Mihashi -- Yuyake no Tonbi (夕焼けとんび)

I don't think I have described anything that is enka with this word before and I doubt I'll ever use it to describe anything from this genre again, but I think "Yuyake no Tonbi" sounds rather cute. With it's perky music and Michiya Mihashi (三橋美智也) singing stuff like, "Yuyake zora ga ma-ka-ka" and "Ichiban boshi ga chika-chika" in such a merry manner that I can imagine him grinning while doing so, the thought that this enka-minyo veteran's single could pass as a kid's song has popped into my mind many a times.

Another interesting thing about "Yuyake no Tonbi" is that it's talking about a "Tonbi", or a kite. If you're wondering what a kite is - not that thing that rides the wind while attached to a string - it's basically a small version of an eagle but with a V-shaped tail. While it is common to have birds in enka tunes, they are more often than not seagulls or crows depending on the song's setting. But a raptor? No, except for this song. Although I haven't heard the call of a kite, I'd assume that they make some sort of whistling sound like the other birds of prey, and to mimic its call in "Yuyake no Tonbi", especially when the bird itself is mentioned, composer, Kenji Yoshidaya (吉田矢健治), had incorporated the high-pitched notes of the flute into the melody - that's actually pretty cool.

Writing the lyrics was Ryo Yano (矢野亮) who had worked with Yoshidaya on other occasions to create a number of songs for Michi - and Hachi, for that matter - like "Ringo Mura kara" (リンゴ村から). Anyway, "Yuyake no Tonbi" looks to be about a fellow talking to said kite as it makes its rounds in the evening. (Noelle from 1/3/16) I managed to figure out the meaning of the song; it's more like the fellow is waiting for the return of his brother - probably working in the city - and while doing so he asks the passing kite about the whereabouts of his sibling since the raptor soars high in the sky and can see everything from up there.

"Yuyake no Tonbi" was released in 1958 and was one of Michi's million-sellers; it sold 2.2 million copies, tying it with "Tasha de na" (達者でナ) for 5th place on his list of best-selling singles. As I may have said before, Mihashi had a disco phase in the 70's and during that time he released the disco versions of both "Yuyake no Tonbi" and "Tasha de na" as "THE TOMBI" and "BYE BYE HORSE" respectively in 1979. By a stroke of luck I managed to find "THE TOMBI". It's funky and as good as the original in my opinion. Plus, it's hilarious to see Mitchie in the John Travolta-Saturday Night Fever outfit striking that pose up there.

amazon.co.jp

Yoshio Tabata -- Ame no Yatai (雨の屋台)

(1:32)

Nice...

Not too long ago, I managed to find this video that had Makoto Fujita (藤田まこと) making a guest appearance on Yoshio Tabata's (田端義夫) concert, or at least that's what it looked like. While the one above only shows the tail end of that meeting, the full version had the two late veterans discussing about the upcoming song. Fujita was saying that he had done an impression of Batayan in his younger days, or at least something on that line, and the song he sang while doing so was none other than "Ame no Yatai". That was followed by the both of them singing this very song, Fujita taking the lead and demonstrating his decent interpretation of the electric guitarist's quivering vocal delivery, and later joined by Tabata himself. And just as much as I was enthralled by these old-timers - well, not really... yet - performing side by side, I enjoyed "Ame no Yatai".

Listening to what I thought was the original recording of "Ame no Yatai" in the video here, it sounded like a fun little ditty with it's happy-go-lucky, jolly score that brings the image of someone skipping along the streets in a carefree manner under the pouring rain. The metallic notes from the electric guitar, the strings, and the breezy way Batayan's high voice bounces (for want of a better description) over the words really makes this newer version - as I had later learnt - of "Ame no Yatai" sound like one of those stereotypical tunes that you'd hear coming out from ancient gramophones when one of these contraptions is depicted in some modern day show.

Scratchy...

As for the original from 1950, it's a lot slower in pace and it actually sounds a little more on the forlorn side. So rather than skipping and reveling in the rain, our lead is probably sitting at home or at a bar and looking out of the water-streaked windows and musing at the fact that its pouring out there again. I prefer the new version of "Ame no Yatai", it's more amusing to listen to.

Before I forget, "Ame no Yatai" was written by lyricist Ryo Yano (矢野亮), who had also penned a number of songs for enka oldies like Hachiro Kasuga (春日八郎) and Michiya Mihashi (三橋美智也). And the music was composed by Ichiro Tone (利根一郎).

www.teichiku.co.jp

Hmm, I'm starting to like Batayan quite a bit... wonder if it's his distinctive vocal delivery or the weird way he always plays his guitar.