Cover Songs With Kasuga Hachiro (春日八郎のカバー曲)

Michi, Koga Sensei, Hachi
From "Shinobu"

Hachiro Kasuga (春日八郎) recorded a lot of cover songs, ranging from Meiji-Taisho enka to early Showa kayo to 1980s pop enka. It's thanks to these covers that I got to learn a fair amount about a wide array of songs, some of which becoming personal favourites. But did you know, that the concept of covering pop songs, produced by record companies, wasn't as commonplace as it is now prior to the late 1960s? 

Feel free to correct me if I'm mistaken, but based on my understanding of sources like Yusuke Wajima's (輪島裕介) "Tsukurareta 'Nihon no Kokoro' Shinwa" (創られた「日本の心」神話) (2010), it was due to the old record company contract system from the late 1920s. What this system entailed was that a songwriter or singer, bound to a particular record company by contract, could not provide songs for a different company/sing songs made by a different company. There was also this concept of the mochi uta, where a song made for a singer was theirs and theirs only; to cover another's song (officially) was, I quote from venerable lyricist Kikutaro Takahashi (高橋掬太郎), "akin to betrayal", even if they were from the same company. For instance, Akira Matsudaira (松平晃) would not be able to cover Tadaharu Nakano's (中野忠晴) "China Tango" under most circumstances, even though they were both from Columbia Records. Or Columbia's Mr. Nakano would not have been able to cover King Records' Isao Hayashi's (林伊佐緒) "Kiso Bushi Bolero" (木曽節ボレロ). Rather limiting stuff. 

Miura, Hachi, Yukiko Nomura
From "Shinobu"

Of course, there were multiple exceptions and there were instances of insane loophole gymnastics. And one of these loopholes would change the record industry game for the better. This watershed moment that got rid of this limiting restriction was Shinichi Mori's (森進一) (Victor) cover album of Masao Koga's (古賀政男) (Columbia) works, "Kage wo Shitaite" (影を慕いて), from 1968. Initially seen as inconceivable, composer Kosho Inomata (猪俣公章) who was the album's director managed to do some insane contract red tape gymnastics and dodging Koga Sensei's initial wrath to get it done. This involved picking only the Koga Melody that did not "belong" to Columbia Records, i.e. those that were from the legendary composer's early Victor and Golden Age Teichiku days. The album's resounding success threw out the stigma around covers and cross-company collaborations. So much so that now it's essentially a given in at least the enka world. I'd go so far as to say that some past kayo have become "must covers"/a rite of passage for any modern day enka singer. Oddly enough, one of these enka rites of passages is doing a Koga Melody cover.

In terms of same company covers, assuming the producers at King Records weren't being hyperbolic, the first full-on same company artist collab album was Hachi and his junior Michiya Mihashi's (三橋美智也) "Ougon no Utagoe" (黄金の歌声) from 1970. That was where both artists covered about 14 of each others' mochi uta. I believe it was also in 1970 when Kasuga began recording cover songs in earnest. 

Anyways, this brief Japanese record industry history tidbit leads me to what I want to feature for my Hachi Centenary Project article: Hachi's cover songs I enjoy. I've always been picky about original singers, but sometimes covers just hit different, sometimes with better arrangements or better vocals. It's with these factors in mind that I share my picks of Hachi covers. At the same time, perhaps these songs may introduce you to some Taisho and Showa era classics, as they did for me. As a side note, I will also mention some of the albums each song is in.

Ochiba Shigure (落葉しぐれ) (1953) -- Koichi Miura (三浦洸一)

This song is difficult with some intense peaks and dips, but Hachi maneuvers them so effortlessly and smoothly in this classic nagashi/sasurai mono. Maybe folks are right in saying that Hachi is just good at these sort of enka style kayo.

Albums: Showa no Enka Kasuga Hachiro Fukyu no Meisaku wo Utau (昭和の艶歌 春日八郎不朽の名作を歌う) (1971), Kasuga Hachiro Enka Hyaku Sen (春日八郎 演歌百選) (1973)

Dotonbori Koshinkyoku (道頓堀行進曲) (1928) -- Ichiro Utsumi (内海一郎)

Hachi said that jazz doesn't fit him and some have said that he couldn't express that jazz feeling. I have to admit that there are some number where I felt that the jazz feeling was lacking a little. But not with this one. Also, it may be a hot take to fans of early Showa Japanese jazz, but this is the best version of "Dotonbori Koshinkyoku" with the best arrangement. I will die on this hill.

A point to note is that Hachi re-recorded this in his 1975 "Kasuga Hachiro no Osaka Jocho" (春日八郎の大阪情緒), but its arrangement was not as raw and... jazzy. The original cover from the 1962 "Taisho/Showa Hayari-uta" (春日八郎の大正・昭和はやり唄) album is the one I'm for.

Albums: Kasuga Hachiro no Taisho/Showa Hayari-uta, Kasuga Hachiro no Osaka Jocho, Kasuga Hachiro Osaka wo Utau (春日八郎 大阪を歌う) (2011)

Nagasaki Chanson (長崎シャンソン) (1946) -- Shizuo Higuchi (樋口静雄)

The song comes in at 24:24.

I praise the creative decision to have Hachi sing the chorus, "Batten Nagasaki __ no machi, mimase yokatoko yori masse" (But Nagasaki's the city of__, c'mon over and check out this fine place... The line is in the Nagasaki/Kyushu dialect), unlike Higuchi's original. Higuchi's wasn't bad, but it just felt lacking to have just the back-up singers handle that crucial bit.

Albums: Kasuga Hachiro no Nagasaki no Jocho (春日八郎の長崎情緒) (1976), Kasuga Hachiro Showa Kayo wo Utau (春日八郎 昭和歌謡を歌う) (2010)

Karisome no Koi (かりそめの恋) (1949) -- Machiko Sanjo (三条町子)

Fun fact: I believe this was one of the songs Hachi saw/hear Mrs. Kasuga, Keiko Watabe (渡部恵子), sing while she was working as a part-time singer at the same restaurant as him back in the day. On a side note, I feel that Hachi's soft, forlorn-tinged voice fits this sort of blues/Mood Kayo-like songs to a T.

Album: Nihon no Uta Meiji/Taisho/Showa Hayari-uta (日本の歌　明治・大正・昭和はやりうた) (1977)

Onna no Kaikyu (女の階級) (1936) -- Shigeo Kusunoki (楠木繁夫)

Of all the songs on this is one of the rare numbers where I enjoy both the original and the cover in equal measure. Anyways, I've read that Koga Sensei wanted "Onna no Kaikyu" to be of a slower pace, contrary to the brisk pace of Kusunoki's original. I think it's in covers like Hachi's where you can hear the composer's intended vision.

Albums: Kasuga Hachiro Koga Melody wo Utau (春日八郎 古賀メロディーを歌う) (1971/1975/1992), Kasuga Hachiro Koga Masao wo Utau (春日八郎 古賀政男を歌う) (1974), Showa no Enka Kasuga Hachiro Fukyu no Meisaku wo Utau, Kasuga Hachiro Enka Hyaku Sen 

Palau Koishiya (パラオ恋しや) (1941) -- Haruo Oka (岡晴夫)

Hachi's smooth delivery makes Okapparu's mochi uta more polished, and I think you can feel it in a relaxed tropical island number like "Palau Koishiya". Interestingly enough, even though Kasuga recorded this cover, it wasn't included in his 1977 Oka cover album, "Kasuga Hachiro Oka Haruo wo Utau" (春日八郎 岡晴夫を歌う). Rather it seems to have only been released decades later in 2010 via "Showa Kayo wo Utau". Perhaps they'd already hit the song limit for the 1977 one, so "Palau Koishiya" got dropped.

Fun fact: Okapparu, known for that strident and nasally delivery with large lung capacity, was said to have developed these attributes during his days as an enka shi/nagashi (street musician). Because of the cigarette smog in bars, he learned to sing in this manner to reduce the need for inhaling the smoke and damaging his vocals.

Albums: Kasuga Hachiro Showa Kayo wo Utau

Hoshi no Nagare ni (星の流れに) (1947) -- Akiko Kikuchi (菊池章子)

The hardship of immediate postwar Japan can be felt in this song about the realities of many women who had to turn to working the night to survive. Perhaps it would be more appropriate sung by a woman, but Hachi's voice is more filled with a pained longing than heavy melancholy, which fits the emotions expressed in this song.

Albums: Enka to wa Nandarou Kasuga Hachiro Show (演歌とは何だろう〈春日八郎ショー〉)(1973), Kasuga Hachiro Enka Hyaku Sen, Kasuga Hachiro Showa Kayo wo Utau

Epilogue

Something I noticed when studying the covers Hachi recorded was that he never covered any (Ryoichi) Hattori (服部良一) Melody save for one: Mieko Takamine's (高峰三枝子) "Kohan no Yado" (湖畔の宿) - correct me if I'm wrong. I wonder if it's because R. Hatter was known for jazz and "pop", and thus not fitting with the enka rhetoric in the 70s and 80s.

On a different note, among the other fellas I love, Hachi has covered Akira-san's, Bin Uehara's (上原敏), and Yoshio Tabata's (田端義夫) stuff. As I've said, I can be very picky with covers. As much as I love Hachi, originals win here, especially for Bin-san and Batayan. I'm more forgiving with the Akira-san covers, though. This is because Hachi and Akira-san vaguely share a similar vocal quality in that they are great at conveying forlornness - the difference is that Hachi sounds empathetic while Akira-san sounds needy (purely subjective). So, I thought the former's covers of the latter's hits, "Isoge Horo Basha" (急げ幌馬車) and "Circus no Uta" (サーカスの唄), were pretty good, but the arrangements just fell short. 

"Isoge Horo Basha"

But, y'know, a dream Hachi cover of mine is "China Tango". I know I'll regret it because, while I know it'll be good, Hachi has nowhere near the same level of sex appeal as Mr. Nakano to pull it off. But I just want to hear it. Not because it'll be hot, but because I think it'll be kinda funny.

Noelle's Favourite 1930s & 1940s Songs (Follow-up)

Lately, I've been in one of my early ryukoka phases. It's when I predominantly listen to songs from the 1930s to the early 1950s or so. It's most certainly because of the influence of Tokyo Taishu Kayo Gakudan (東京大衆歌謡楽団) and taking Bin Uehara (上原敏) as my newest muse. But it's also due in part to my reignited love for Yoshio Tabata (田端義夫) and a burgeoning interest in Katsuhiko Haida (灰田勝彦), both of whom have recently provided much-needed pick-me-ups as I figure out how to move on after graduating from university. And, of course, there are the covers by Hachiro Kasuga (春日八郎) and stuff I learned from the karaoke. My once tiny collection of ryukoka has expanded greatly and I picked up many more favourites along the way from a myriad of artists. So, I'd like to share some of them with you guys in this instalment of "Favourite" Author's Picks.

Looking through my past Author's Picks writings, I realised that I had done a post on my favourite songs from the 1930s and 1940s in 2017 (geez, I actually forgot). Looking at my own selection, some of those picks actually withstood the test of time and I still love them to this day. Some of those artists will also reappear here, albeit with different titles to their names. Care to take a gander at who they may be? :) This entry is sort of a successor to my previous one and the rule of one song per singer for fairness' sake will be kept. The lyrics most resonant with me will also be noted. 

Just a couple of disclaimers before we begin: 

1. There are some songs that were originally duets where I only listed one singer. I did this because I prefer listening to their solo versions.

2. I tried putting in some translations for my favourite lyrics. Take them with a pinch of salt - my Japanese skills are (still) paltry.  

Without further ado, let's begin.

Bin Uehara -- Hatoba Katagi (1938)

Mamori toshite kita ore da (I’ve been protecting you with all my life)

Hatoba katagi wo shiranai ka (Don't you know that's the spirit of the wharf?)

Now, we can't have a prewar song list without Husbando 3, right? For some reason, I became enamoured by the clear and gentle vocals of this star from the 1930s who (low-key) looked like a studious accountant, getting hooked on his many samurai/ronin and sailor-themed discography. I've come to like a good number of those songs and it was hard to pick just the one. But, I think that accolade should go to "Hatoba Katagi" (波止場気質), my introductory song to all things Bin-san which I first heard as a cover by Hachi (well, well). I always found myself going back to this ditty about a sailor having to send off his beloved at the docks, loving both the jaunty melody and Bin-san's tender and forlorn vocals.

Ooooooossu!

Yoshio Tabata -- Otone Tsukiyo (1939)

Guchi janakeredo yo ga yo de areba (Not to complain, but it is what it is)

Tono no maneki no tsukimi zake (Having drinks admiring moon at a lord's invite)

Otoko Hirate to motehayasarete (Praised as the man, Hirate)

Ima ja ima ja ukiyo no sandogasa (But now, now he's just a wanderer in the floating world)

If you guessed Tabata as one who'd reappear, you're absolutely right. Batayan's been a constant favourite for as long as I can remember, his cool dude energy being a such joy to watch and hearing the brassy twang of his trusty guitar gives me goosebumps. He was also pretty cute. But, for personal reasons, he never really got past my top 5 and into Husbando territory. (Noelle from 18/4/23: Yeah, that statement didn't age well.)

Last time, I picked "Genkai Blues" (玄海ブルース), but I am fairly certain that it was a toss-up between that and "Otone Tsukiyo" (大利根月夜). The same thing happened this time, but the latter came out on top instead. "Otone Tsukiyo" was my introduction to the exuberant singer and one of the first of many ronin-themed tunes I would come to like. Its grand sound really gives the disgraced samurai figure of Miki Hirate such a heroic edge, and I can't get enough of those amazing guitar solos - twice in just this one! Speaking of Batayan and his guitar, he seemed to have been so particular about it that he would insist on having its amplifier be placed where he could "see its sound or it won't do." Batayan, you're literally the "I can hear colours" meme, and that's why I love you.  

Katsuhiko Haida -- Jawa no Mango Uri (1942)

Kage e no shibai ka gameran mo tanoshiya (A shadow puppet show? The gamelan's great too!)

Aa Jawa no mango uri (Ah, the Java mango seller)

Among the veterans on this list, Haida was the one I least expected to show up here. And yet, here he is with his ukulele and flower lei thanks to "Jawa no Mango Uri" (ジャワのマンゴ売り). Perhaps it's because of the exotic and sultry sound. Perhaps I just like it when Haida sings "gamelan" and "mango" in that strange yet silky crooning of his, but I ended up taking to "Jawa no Mango Uri" way more than I had expected. How has he already propelled up to Batayan's level from absolutely nowhere in my books?? 

Tadaharu Nakano -- China Tango (1939)

Charumera mo kiete yuku (The charamela has disappeared)

Tooi akai hi aoi hi mo (So have the faraway red and blue lights)

Kuniang no maegami no (The young lady's bangs)

Yarusenakunaku yo wa fukeru (The night deepens without any sorrows)

From the island of Java, we go north to China. I never knew how much I liked China-themed songs until the Asakusa Bois came along. It's kind of kitschy, but also somewhat familiar. "China Tango", originally by Nakano, is one of them with its snappy tango melody and romantically sweet lyrics that paint a dreamy image of a Chinese port town at nightfall. Be it Kotaro or Nakano, the way they belt out the chorus never fails to impress me. Needless to say, this is one of the songs I look forward to the most when I watch the Takashima Brothers and gang. It doesn't appear on their setlists often, but I've been lucky to catch it in the times I've seen them in person and it never fails to brighten my day.

Haruo Oka -- Shanghai no Hanauri Musume (1938)

Hoshi mo kokyu mo kohaku no sake mo (The stars, the kokyu, and the amber sake)

Yume no Shanghai hanauri musume (The flower-selling girl of the dreamy Shanghai)

Speaking of China-themed tunes and song introductions via the Takashima Brothers, we head to metropolitan Shanghai with "Shanghai no Hanauri Musume"(上海の花売娘). Like Batayan, Okapparu makes his appearance here as well, this time with an entry from his well-regarded "Hanauri Musume series" (Flower selling girl series), the very first one, in fact. A bright and joyful number, Okapparu relates the scene of a flower seller at the docks of Shanghai in his clear and chirpy style. 

Dick Mine -- Nagasaki Elegy (1947)

Kino futta wa konuka ame (Yesterday's rain was a light drizzle)

Kyo wa namida no ame ga furu (Today's rain is my tears)

Yume no Nagasaki ai yoru tama wo (In the dreamy Nagasaki, our spirits as one)

Musube yogiri no abe Maria (Wrapped in the night fog, Ave Maria)

Welcome back to Japan, specifically to Nagasaki, with yet another recurring artist. I'd say Mine's "Nagasaki Elegy" (長崎エレジー) is a strong contender for my favourite Nagasaki-themed song, and I think my recent trip to the prefecture only amplified that. The swelling strings, upbeat tempo, and earnest vocals of whoever takes it on give "Nagasaki Elegy" this mix of sadness and hopefulness that I can't get enough of. Mine's rendition is great, but I do love Hachi's and Batayan's versions as well.

Akiko Kikuchi -- Hoshi no Nagare ni (1947)

Uete imagoro imouto wa doko ni (I wonder where my starving sister is now)

Hito me aitai okaasan (Just once, I want to see my mother again)

This one brings back so many bittersweet memories of my first year at university - what a ride it was. Kikuchi's jazzy tune is so visceral in its depiction of anguish, reaching its tipping point at each chorus. An apt representation of the immediate postwar period, but emotions do transcend time. While my troubles are nowhere near as harsh as what "Hoshi no Nagare ni" (星の流れに) implies, just the feelings conveyed through Kikuchi's sorrowful delivery with an element of resignation really hit hard at times. But it's exactly that which brings me back to it. Plus, I do love a good jazz-inspired song. 

Minoru Obata -- Onna Keizu no Uta (Yushima no Shiraume) (1942)

Shiruya shiraume tamagaki ni (Don't you know, white plum blossoms, on the shrine fences)

Nokoru futari no kageboshi (Remains their silhouette)

If I were to use a single word to describe "Yushima no Shiraume" (湯島の白梅), I'd say "beautiful". The elegant and dramatic strings and horns, Obata's genteel and deliberate crooning, and the image of blooming plum blossoms in early spring. Yet, it's the stage for a romantic tragedy between the geisha Otsuta and her lover Chikara from the book-turned-film, "Onna Keizu" (婦系図). Still, there's no better time to listen to this than now as the plum blossoms bloom.

Shigeo Kusunoki -- Onna no Kaikyu (1935)

Kokoro kudakedo mamanaranu (A broken heart is beyond my control)

Tsurai ukiyo no sayoarashi (The painful floating world's night gale)

I feel like "Onna no Kaikyu" (女の階級) is one of those songs that is simultaneously popular and unknown. It doesn't make much sense, but that's my impression based on my contradicting experience with it. Veteran Kusunoki was the original artist, but I see more covers of this track by enka singers through the ages than his original on YouTube. Yet, when I'm at the karaoke, the oldies aren't too familiar with it. Nevertheless, I somehow got hooked on this spunky Koga Melody. It's likely because the orchestra goes on full blast at a frenetic speed in the original, and simply because I like hearing the likes of Hachi doing incredible vocal gymnastics to pull it off in the covers.

And that, folks, has been an updated take on some of my favourite songs from the immediate pre and postwar eras. As I previously mentioned ages ago, somehow, these songs have incredible staying power in my head. But, I suppose that's why they're still being enjoyed more than seven decades later. 

Man, 2017 Noelle wouldn't have believed this list if I showed it to her. I can imagine: "Batayan, yeah, but who's... Bin? And the baseball guy? rEalLy??"

I ended off my previous list with madorosu Batayan, so I shall do the same here. 

The Works of Masao Koga (古賀政男) Part 1: The Early Years

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.

Shigeo Kusunoki -- Midori no Chiheisen （緑の地平線）

https://www.flickr.com/photos/mommysaurus75/5504488400?ytcheck=1
by Angel Geisler

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.

Shigeo Kusunoki/Hideo Murata -- Jinsei Gekijo (人生劇場)

Over the course of these few months, I had been watching a bunch of Japanese dramas, both old and new, and most of them have been pretty good, but the one that takes the cake is "Sanbiki no Ossan" (三匹のおっさん... Three Geezers). It's basically about three old men - Kiyo, Shige and Nori - who, disgusted by how unruly and petty-crime-ridden their neighborhood is, decide to take matters into their own hands by becoming the town's secret law enforcers. Though advanced in age, they are not to be trifled with as they would always deliver a beat down to the bad guys when threatened and give them a taste of justice - Kiyo would strike them hard on the head with his wooden sword, Shige would flip them over Judo-style, and Nori would zap them senseless with his homemade tasers. Ah, ain't nothing better than seeing a trio of geriatrics beating up ne'er-do-wells! That aside, it also teaches some good ol' fashioned values, so there's more to it than just comedy and comedic violence. The video above with the DVD commercials for the drama sums up what I'd just mentioned.

Another thing that I enjoy in "Sanbiki no Ossan" is that an enka song or kayokyoku would be sung in every episode by Kiyo, with Nori occasionally providing the backup "Wah, wah, wah, wah". Unfortunately, I haven't been able to figure out the majority of the songs they had sung, but one thing's for sure, the very first one was Hideo Murata's (村田英雄) "Jinsei Gekijo". This was one of the tunes that Kiyo sang before a serious showdown with the baddies. Kinya Kitaoji (北大路欣也) singing to the song playing on his cell phone (it's the character's ring tone) in his husky voice made for an amazingly cool entrance to a fight.

Moving on to the song itself. J-Canuck's article on "Jinsei Gekijo" served as my introduction to Muchi and the composer responsible for spawning many enka classics of that era, the great Masao Koga (古賀政男). I wasn't a big fan of the song when I first heard it, but what made me come back to it was its haunting music. The instrument used throughout (it may be some string instrument. A mandolin, perhaps. Whatever it is, it's used in many of Koga's works) and the lonely blare of the trumpet of some sort gives "Jinsei Gekijo" a melancholic and slightly sinister air, while Murata's fierce and forceful delivery brought a manly edge. Accompanying Koga's score is Sonosuke Sato's (佐藤惣之助) lyrics.

Apparently many think that "Jinsei Gekijo" was originally by Murata. Who wouldn't, though? I mean, it sounds like it was tailor-made for the intimidating veteran, and if I were to listen to Muchi's version without any prior knowledge of the song, I wouldn't have thought that it was sung by anyone but him. However, as learnt from J-Canuck's article and the J-Wiki, ryukoka singer Shigeo Kusunoki (楠木繁夫) was the first to sing it. The video up there plays Kusunoki's rendition, and his vocal delivery actually sounds somewhat similar to Murata's, though not as growly at the lower notes and not as whiny at the higher notes. Though both versions have no particular differences in my ears, I find myself marginally favouring Murata's, simply because it's by Murata.

"Jinsei Gekijo" was first released in 1938 as Kusunoki's 12th single, then came Muchi's version 21 years later in 1959. Murata got to sing it on the Kohaku twice, in 1971 and 1978.

discogs.com

Finally, to wrap things up, this is what Mom calls Muchi: Bobo. I am not kidding. I am still trying to wrap my head around it. Out of all the nicknames I had shared thus far, this one made the least amount of sense. A while ago I was showing her a video of the Yonin Shu performing together with Muchi taking the lead, and she just looked at him and called him "Bobo". Well, at least she doesn't dislike him... or any of the Yonin Shu for that matter. She thinks they look fine and not annoying. It's their singing styles and the type of enka they sing that she doesn't like.