Noboru Kirishima & Ms. Columbia (Misao Matsubara) -- Tabi no Yokaze (旅の夜風)

Hana mo arashi mo fumi koete (Pushing through, in good times and bad)

I have this core memory of watching this one ryukoka medley back when I was just starting to wrap my head around what the genre was. If I got 100 yen for the amount of times I re-watched that, I would probably be able to buy a Mr. Nakano shikishi (autograph) priced at 55,000 yen. Because of that constant repetition, I still vividly remember what the four songs in the medley were almost a decade down the road. There was a jolly Minoru Obata (小畑実) singing "Kantaro Tsukiyo Uta" (勘太郎月夜唄) in his soft lilt, an elderly Dick Mine in a tux with a pair of shades belting out "Tabi Sugata Sannin Otoko" (旅姿三人男) in dramatic fashion, and the ever exuberant Batayan and his trusty guitar with "Otone Tsukiyo" (大利根月夜). These were instant favourites and would continue to be in the years to come. However, there was one song that was markedly different in style to the rest of these heroic-sounding matatabi mono. The man singing it also gave completely different vibes to the aforementioned gentlemen. He was awkward, standing ram-rod straight, and his slight frown behind those glasses gave him a look of mild annoyance; it's as though someone got that last tuna mayo onigiri before he could. This awkward gentleman was Noboru Kirishima (霧島昇) and the song he sang was "Tabi no Yokaze" (A Journey's Night Breeze).

This performance here is probably the exact one I saw from that medley, if not very similar. Because of that impression I had of him, I just saw him a stiff and grey natsumelo singers. I didn't take to "Tabi no Yokaze" either, it being in a minor key and having a comparatively sadder sound despite its jaunty rhythm. Just as aside, I actually prefer songs in the major key, like the earlier mentioned matatabi mono, which are generally more uplifting in sound. Stuff in the minor key like "Tabi no Yokaze" and many enka songs, on the other hand, usually take me some time to get used to. Having said that, the reason why I went from cold to lukewarm to it was because of the constant replays of that medley.

Years later, I would re-encounter "Tabi no Yokaze" and its recognizable accordion-filled intro via the Asakusa Bois, Tokyo Taishu Kayo Gakudan (東京大衆歌謡楽団). I quickly learned from their concert videos and live performances that this tune was not only a staple in their repertoire, but often sung as an introduction. Considering the song's theme of travel, it's rather characteristic of the band that often seemingly appears at random places out of thin air. Just like the medley from my teens, hearing "Tabi no Yokaze" from the Takashima brothers eventually made it go from lukewarm to a comfortable warm. Through that process, I'd find it on loop in my head and I'd be humming bits of it ever so often, especially that oh-so-familiar first line.

The Asakusa Bois were also the reason why Kiri-san became another early Showa kayo figure I warmed up to, alongside his wife Misao Matsubara (松原操), also known as Ms. Columbia. 

The original

On the note of Matsubara, "Tabi no Yokaze" wasn't just a Kirishima song, it was originally a duet Kirishima recorded with her. It was created as such in 1938 by Yaso Saijo (西條八十) and Tadashi Manjome (万城目正) and served as the theme song for the romantic somewhat-tragedy "Aizen Katsura" (愛染かつら), which was based on Matsutaro Kawaguchi's (川口松太郎) serialized novella of the same name. It featured movie stars Ken Uehara (上原謙) and Kinuyo Tanaka (田中絹代). Basically, nurse-turned-musician Katsue (played by Tanaka) first encounters young doctor and heir to the hospital she worked in Kozo at a company organized party. Kozo, smitten by Katsue, introduces her to the Aizen Katsura (Katsura tree of love) at a temple; lovers who touch the tree together will find eternal happiness together, even if not immediately. The two touch the tree, professing their love for each other. Unfortunately, that's where the problems began and a whole wave of misunderstandings and will-they-won't-theys ensue, with Kozo having to battle family tradition and Katsue balancing her duties as a single mother and a nurse. Saijo's lyrics illustrate the feelings and struggles of both characters via Kiri-san and Ms. Columbia. And I believe that the "Tabi" (journey) part of "Tabi no Yokaze" comes from how our star-crossed lovers constantly travelled to different places yet always happened to barely miss meeting each other. 

As the film was a massive sensation, "Tabi no Yokaze," arranged in multiple ways and played throughout the movie, became a smash hit, propelling Kirishima and Matsubara to musical stardom. Since the movie did so well, it spawned two sequels titled "Zoku Aizen Katsura" (続愛染かつら) in 1939 and "Aizen Katsura Kanketsu hen" (愛染かつら完結編) in 1940. Naturally, Kirishima and Matsubara were behind the theme songs as well, "Aizen Yakyoku" (愛染夜曲) and "Aizen Soushi" (愛染草紙) respectively. Both the sequels and their theme songs were just as popular as fans pursued the Katsue-Kozo saga. Since it's been more than 80 years, I think spoilers are acceptable: They FINALLY tied the knot at the Aizen Katsura by the end of the last movie. After two long years, the Katsue-Kozo union everyone wanted came to fruition. But even greater news to the fans was when Kirishima and Matsubara tied the knot as well on 17th December that year.

I actually watched "Aizen Katsura" for myself just last night and, for a movie from that era, I actually thought it was pretty good! But honestly, if the books I'd read didn't spoil me, I would've gone insane because the sequels aren't available (from my knowledge) and the first one ended on a cliffhanger. If you'd like to watch it for yourself, you can do so here. There's English subtitles if you hit the captions button.

(Sorry but the video has been taken down.)

The interview starts at the 1:50 mark.

95 points, huh, Mrs. Kirishima? That's very generous.

On the note of our ryukoka power couple, the Kirishimas were interviewed and asked about how they became an item. It was really cute to see the both of them stare blankly at each other and go, "Who made the first move, again?" However, Kiri-san mentioned that they just naturally drifted closer to each other since they were made to work together almost everyday since "Aizen Katsura." However, Columbia Records vehemently objected to the union. Just like the situation with Katsue and Kozo. I can see why, though. From the company's standpoint, it would be a huge loss if one of their most popular stars retires and become a housewife upon marriage (it was that sort of time... Still kinda is). Nevertheless, the couple still went ahead with it. 

Here is where I would like to introduce a more potential spicy drama on the Kirishima-Matsubara situation from Kiyomaro Kikuchi's "Showa Enka no Rekishi": When "Aizen Yakyoku" was due to be recorded in 1939, Kirishima was in northern China participating in record company-organized morale boosting concert trips (imon katsudo) for the soldiers stationed in those areas. As a result, Columbia's other, more senior star Akira Matsudaira (松平晃), was set as a replacement and slated to record the duet with Ms. Columbia. Kikuchi further stated that "Aizen Yakyoku" would have been pivotal for both Matsudaira and Kirishima in respectively maintaining or solidifying his popularity. So, catching wind of his replacement, Kirishima made up his mind: He was going back to Japan come hell or high water. Cancelling the performance in Qingdao, he rushed back on a military plane at the speed of light and made it just in time for the recording, ensuring Matsudaira wouldn't steal his thunder. We can look at it from this perspective, but from the way I understood Kikuchi's writing, it seemed like it was more than just competition over popularity... It sounded like a jealous Kirishima who refused to let Matsudaira take his place beside Matsubara. Food for thought.

Fan conspiracy theories aside, after Kirishima and Matsubara wed, the latter did retire from show business, and together they had four kids. Kirishima would continue to perform many of their duets either on his own or with other singers on music programs. The couple remained together for the rest of their lives, and when Kiri-san passed away in April of 1984, Matsubara followed just shy of two months from him. Oddly enough, she also left just a few days before Kiri-san's 70th birthday ;-;. Considering the circumstances that led to their union and how not even death could keep them apart, Kiri-san and Matsubara's story could easily rival Katsue and Kozo's! Someone should make a drama out of it. I would 100% watch it. Chips and soda ready - I'll watch it. NHK, please. I'll subscribe to your service.

If the one who took that last tuna mayo onigiri was Ms. Columbia, I'm sure that Kiri-san frown would be turned upside down.

Mateba kuru kuru Aizen Katsura (Just hang on, spring will come)

Yagate me wo fuku haru ga kuru (And the Aizen Katsura will finally blossom)

Bin Uehara -- Oya Koi Dochu (親恋道中)

 

Bin-san, otsukaresama deshita

It'd been only a month since I started grad school when I had to do my first proper presentation. It was also my longest one yet at about half an hour long. Solo. The pressure was immense despite the class on Japanese music being tiny (five people, including my prof). The fact that the prof is my academic advisor only intensified things (oh, geez). But, having dear Bin-san gently grinning back at me was comforting. I think we made it through okay. Tired, but kinda okay. 

For some context, class presentations functioned as mini-lectures on anything related to Japanese or East Asian music. So, of course, I had to do an enka-kayo-ryukoka thing. Specifically, I featured the beginnings of what would later become a staple topic in modern-day enka: matatabi-yakuza kayo, or songs that featured the likes of ronin, yakuza, and other wanderers of the Edo era. It seemed to have been popularized in the early to mid-1930s by the lyricist we're pretty familiar with on KKP, Masato Fujita (藤田まさと), who had penned many a matatabi kayo hit. A couple of singers also became synonymous with this theme of song. Interestingly, both were from Akita prefecture, both wore glasses, and both were known for singing in a more "traditional Japanese"-sounding style. Between the two, I naturally picked Bin Uehara (上原敏). I featured four of his matatabi kayo hits as examples, doing so in a way similar to how I'd write my KKP stuff, oddly enough. As you saw above, I "brought" Bin-san along for the ride as well for moral support and, in a way, to have him there in spirit to witness a random foreigner doing a presentation on him in English 79 years down the road. 

Admittedly, part of me wanted to include this song in my project just so that I could show Bin-san live in action.

Anyway, one of my picks was "Oya Koi Dochu" from March 1939. This was Bin-san's final hit before things took a nose dive for Japan and for the poor man himself as another devastating war was to come. Perhaps because of this, little information was recorded on this piece. But we do know that Fujita was in charge of its words and Itsuro Hattori (服部逸郎) its sentimental melody and that it appeared in a musical movie titled "Roppa Uta no Miyako e yuku" (ロッパ歌の都へ行く) from the same year. Starring the titular comedian Roppa Furukawa (古川緑波), the movie included a concert by multiple singers towards its end. It was a clip of this concert where I first got to witness live performances of familiar pre-war music stars in their early days and Bin-san as a non-static portrait. You know the feeling of finally being able to put a face to a voice? It felt sort of like that. The above video is Bin-san's portion of the movie's concert. 

The full version.

From what I understand from Fujita's words, "Oya Koi Dochu" tells of a yakuza-ronin feeling the bite of homesickness on his rootless travels. He is miserable enough to contemplate leaving behind his carefree, itinerant lifestyle and eventually does return home, where his mother tearfully awaits him. Bin-san's mournful vocals only emphasise our protagonist's anguish. Considering the time period this song was released, I can imagine that it would've tugged at the heartstrings of many a soldier and the families waiting for their loved ones to come home safely. On a less sentimental note, the narrative of a frowned-upon yakuza-ronin exiting an unsavoury lifestyle and returning to a life of a responsible, upright citizen who takes care of his mother/parents could have some political undertones... but let's keep the sentimental value of the song for KKP and the cut-and-dry speculations for school.

https://www.bilibili.com/video/BV1Q54y1v7rz/?spm_id_from=333.337.search-card.all.click

Here is another video that includes the only other live reel of Bin-san I can find online. It mixes the above clip with what seems to be scenes from another movie in which Bin-san cameoed (?) as himself. Honestly, the star-struck moustachioed fellow in that clip is me.

This was from a few months back
The shelf is not nearly as spacious anymore

A trip Odate, Akita, is in order. I do want to tell Bin-san that he's not forgotten and not to be remembered as just "Shoji Taro No.2" (東海林太郎の第二号... I am not kidding. It was actually one of his nicknames). And that for a short amount of time in the 21st century, his voice rang through the halls of a university. And that he is resting peacefully wherever he may be. I've decided to visit his plaque on his death anniversary. I read that his fans gather there to pay respects on that day, so I'm curious as to how that'll play out.

On a final note, here's the modern-day Bin-san (or Shoji) doppelganger and his brothers doing their rendition of "Oya Koi Dochu". I feel that the simple arrangement with just Yujiro's (雄次郎) accordion and Ryuzaburo's (龍三郎) bass made Kotaro's (孝太郎) delivery almost as forlorn and lonely as the original.

Noelle's Graduation Song List

Over here in Japan, along with the blooming of sakura trees comes graduation season for schools of all levels. Going around town in the month of March, you might enter a sea of strapping suits, brilliant furisode kimonos and anything in between. You may also need to dodge young folks posing in front of random objects, a thick folder containing their prized graduation certificate in hand. The radiating jubilation adds to the semi-festive mood brought on by the hanami season which arrived earlier than usual this year. The earliest it's been, in fact. And yet the trees at my school were noticeably bald when I was part of the aforementioned sea of folk. The lack of pinkish-white petals did nothing to dampen the mood, however, as I completed this important milestone together with wonderful people.

I'm one to mark any occasion with a song or two (or more), so my undergraduate adventures in Saitama are no exception. I had a few months after my last day of school till graduation to mull over it and eventually settled on 6 songs I found significant to my 4-year journey and its conclusion. Some of them I had actually considered for this very event years in advance! As I do, I've decided to put them into a list on KKP and I hope you'll enjoy them. I will also put the lyrics that resonated with me the most from each song and add a little anecdote on why they made the list. 

Let's begin by going back to square one.

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

Nemutta machi no sono ue ni (Above the slumbering streets)

Konya no hikaru hitotsu boshi (A star shines tonight)

Oira mo hitori naku monka (I ain't going to cry alone)

Kanashii koto mo ureshii koto mo (In sadness or in happiness)

Ano hoshi to katarou (Let's talk to that star)

It may be strange to say this, but experiencing for the first time the oft-sung-about anguish and longing for home (bokyo) so prevalent in enka was fascinating. Yet, as you'd expect, it was also awful. On a stroll in the quiet countryside one rainy night during the early days I had Hachi's songs in my ears, including the funky "Ano Hoshi to Katarou". Seeing some stars twinkling in the partially cloudy sky, the song never felt so apt. With the thought that someone somewhere out there was watching over me, I was able to rally myself for the long haul. 

Comrades: Namida no Sannin Tabi (涙の三人旅)-- Tokyo Taishu Kayo Gakudan

Shiranai minato de shiriouta (Introduced at an unknown port)

Minna sabishii nagare bana (We're all lonely drifting flowers)

Koyoi mo koko ni tsuki wo mite (Tonight, we'll gaze at the moon again from here)

Ashita ha doko no kishi de saku (Tomorrow, at which shore will we bloom?)

There may be three people, but there is only one brain cell. I would like to think that it belongs to me. So goes the dynamic I have with two friends (Lad A and Lad B) I've had since my first year. We came from vastly different backgrounds and got to know each other in a foreign land, yet they became like my brothers - annoying me, enabling me (and my obsessions), and supporting me. Our paths were set to diverge after graduation, but I believe that we will revert to monke when we get to meet again.

I picked Tokyo Taishu Kayo Gakudan's rendition of "Namida no Sannin Tabi" as I had the chance to enjoy it with the fellas after they insisted we stay for the band's performance one rainy evening last year.

"Dude, I don't know if I'm high but isn't that just your Husbando 1?" 

- Lad B upon seeing Hai-Katsu's bromide

Resolve: Ume to Heitai (梅と兵隊) -- Yoshio Tabata

Osu!

Kakugo wo kimeta waga mi demo (I'd made my resolution)

Ume ga ka musebu haru no yo wa (On a night filled with the aroma of plum blossoms) 

Ikusa wasurete hito toki wo (Forget the battle for a second)

Katareba tomo yo yukai janaika (Let's chat, buddy. It'll make things better.)

When I came to Japan to study, I had the resolve to do the best I could to honour my own effort in getting into a university in a place I desired and my parents for supporting my decision. A mantra my late grandpa had was also something along the line of, "If you want it, you'll do anything for it." And so, I did. To say it was tough was an understatement, and the last semester had me on the ropes when I piled on graduate school applications on top of a thesis - the enka theme was a life-saver, but geez, no amount of Hibari, Batayan and Muchi (a few of my subjects) could help up to a certain point. Mind you, the thesis was optional and I only did it for me. Despite the madness, pushing through with friends and loved ones along the way made the fight easier. And when the plum blossoms bloomed earlier this year, I crossed the finish line.

"I don't even know why I'm putting myself through this."

Youth: Kirameku no Seiza (燦めく星座) -- Katsuhiko Haida

Naze ni nagare kuru atsui namida yara (Why are there hot tears flowing?)

Kore ga wakasa to iu mono sa tanoshi janaika (This is what youth is all about. Isn't it wonderful?)

Tsuyoi hitai ni hoshi no iro utsushite ikou yo (Let's push forth with a strong forehead shining like the stars)

Having to accept rejection from one of the graduate schools I'd been aiming for was indescribably painful despite the work I put into it and I'd be lying if I said that tears weren't involved. Then "Kirameku Seiza" resurfaced in my music playlist. Introduced by my karaoke Brojiisan some years back, I occasionally gave this pleasant tune by Hai-Katsu a listen, but it was only at this point did I feel the gravity of its words. Facing setbacks and shedding tears are but the joys of youth - it's not the end of the world and there are always other paths, so push on. And so I did.

"Ojiisan no okage de, takusan ii uta wo shi(rimashita). Sono naka de, ichiban suki na no ha 'Kirameku Seiza' to ka 'Onna no Kaikyu' deshou." 

Rain: Nagasaki Elegy (長崎エレジー) -- Dick Mine

Kino wo futta ha konokaame (Yesterday fell a light drizzle)

Kyou ha namida no ame ga furu (Today falls my tears)

This one was a bit of a late addition which I added around the time I wrote my article on my favourite ryukoka from the 1930s and 40s. It made the cut because of those two lines highlighted above. 

It was a day before the results of successful applicants for another graduate school I'd applied to would be released. It was another I'd been gunning for but the stakes were so much higher - if I got rejected, I'd have little choice but to pack up and leave. It would also have meant that my hardcore push for good grades and creating research proposals would've been for nought. I'd been moping over that very possibility for weeks (in addition to the prior rejection) as I was certain I'd screwed up the interview in the application's second round. The constant rain that day and the forecast of clear skies the next day made the above lines from "Nagasaki Elegy" feel like a bad omen, yet I had it on repeat throughout. 

As foretold, the sun finally came out the next day, yet it really did rain. But it was the best rain that had ever fallen. :') I had never rushed down to the karaoke back in Kasumigaseki so quickly until then, and the smile on my Brojiisan's face was as bright as the sun.

"I could just die of relief - I may need an actual ICU :')."

Result: Otoko Hare Sugata (男晴れ姿) -- Bin Uehara

Koishi kokyo wo ato ni shite (Leaving behind my beloved hometown)

Edo de migaita iki to waza (To sharpen my skills and spirit in Edo)

Au mo ureshiya futa oya ni (I'll be happy just to see my parents again)

Ume no hana saku sato no haru (When the plum blossoms bloom in the spring of home)

Ever since I learned the meaning of 'Hare sugata' and read the highlighted stanza, I knew that this tune by Bin-san had to be my graduation day song. I had, indeed, left my hometown for the Greater Tokyo area in the pursuit of academia and personal growth. I did miss family dearly, but I was determined to make myself into something I would deem worthy to show them at the end of it. There's still so much for me to learn, but I'm glad to say that I was satisfied with what I was able to show my parents when they came for my graduation. 

It also felt wonderful to say, "Ojiisan, sotsugyoushimashita yo!" (I graduated, gramps!) with grad cert in hand to my Brojiisan, who actually showed up outside my school's front gate as promised. He'd been constantly nagging me to focus on my studies and not be caught up in enka and my ever-growing list of Husbandos. Yet, despite that stoic and grumpy front, he was always there to provide moral support and watched me go through it - from angsting over critical professors to worrying about my future. Many of the songs I know and love now can be attributed to him. He really made my time in Kasumigaseki so much better. I'd written and read out a letter to him on the day itself to express my gratitude and, by golly, that was so hard to get through! While I may not be in that neck of the woods anymore, I'll definitely drop by when I can for regular updates. I'm sure he and the karaoke folk would appreciate that.

That marks the end of this eventful chapter of my life and a new one will begin in a matter of days. I'm terrified but also kind of excited to see where it'll take me. The intention is to continue my research on enka and ryukoka - whether that will be successful or not, I don't know, and I don't know if I've gone in over my head. But I guess I can only wait and see. One thing's for sure, though, there'll surely be songs to mark significant events in the years to come and I'll continue to note them down here on KKP. :) 

P.S. Some of these 6 anecdotes do indirectly explain how my Husbando list expanded to 4.5. Yes, there is a 0.5 and I'll allow you to figure out who he is. "[N]ever really got past my top 5 and into Husbando territory" - c'mon, Noelle, we know that's a lie. He's definitely already No.5 and you know it.

Katsuhiko Haida & Kiyoko Otani -- Jawa no Mango Uri (ジャワのマンゴ売り)

You know that one song you heard once that made an impression on you which you promptly forgot, only to rediscover it years later? "Jawa no Mango Uri" is that one song for me. 

It was at least a good four or five years ago when I used to pop by a karaoke joint in Tokyo's Sugamo a.k.a geriatric Ginza when I first heard this tune. I vividly remember that a regular patron, at the time a 90-year-old old man who'd dress in spiffy suits draped over his frail frame, picked this song. I also vividly remember being slightly shell-shocked to see such an exotic-looking title for what I thought was a very Japanese genre of music. You see, I wasn't nearly as aware of Southeast Asian and Pacific Islands being a common theme in ryukoka and enka back then as I am now, so seeing "Java" (written as "Jawa" in katakana) and "Mango" was fascinating. The singer was one whose name I had also seen before but never knew how to read. I would later find out that he was Katsuhiko Haida (灰田勝彦), but I have no memory of following up on this song of his. Fast-forward to just a week or so ago, a video of Tokyo Taishu Kayo Gakudan (東京大衆歌謡楽団) doing "Jawa no Mango Uri" popped up on my YouTube Suggestions. That triggered the aforementioned Sugamo memory and provided the perfect opportunity to revisit the song. 

Original 1942 version with Haida & Otani

To describe "Jawa no Mango Uri" in a word, I'd have to go cliche and say that it's "exotic", which could have very well been the creators' intentions. Released in September 1942, this song came about at the height of Japan's march into Southeast Asia. According to the J-Wiki, "Tropical Fantasy" became a domestic hot topic at the advent of the Pacific War. The music industry jumped the opportunity and began churning out records that banked on the exoticism of the southern tropical countries. In fact, composer Tasuku Sano (佐野鋤) garnered inspiration from the resultant news reports and magazines that touted the wonders of Southeast Asia and created a series of works to incorporate this fad. Featuring the island of Java, Indonesia, "Jawa no Mango Uri" became one of them. Interestingly, rather than mango, Sano had intended for Indonesian fried rice, or Nasi Goreng, to be the song's feature after seeing a photo of a Nasi Goreng vendor. Unfortunately, the idea of fried rice didn't sit well with the powers that be in Victor Records, so lyricist Yutaka Kadota (門田ゆたか) came in to tweak things a little to turn "fried rice" into "mango". A popular figure by then, Haida was tasked to sing this with soprano Kiyoko Otani (大谷洌子) and it quickly became a hit. I like "Jawa no Mango Uri" as a title as it does roll off the tongue pretty well, and I suppose the image of an island beauty selling an exotic sweet fruit encompasses all things "Tropical" and "Fantasy". But, a "Jawa no Yakimeshi Uri" would have scored 11/10 for creativity in my books. Also, who doesn't like a good Nasi Goreng? 

Later-day version with just Haida

Moving on from the background, besides the Gakudan's rendition, it goes without saying that I had to give Haida's take a listen as well, despite me having mixed feelings about his vocals. Following a melody with a slightly mysterious edge, the languid "la-la" that began every stanza radiated with the laid-back island vibe. There were shout-outs to flame trees, shadow puppets (kage e) and the gamelan (a traditional Indonesian percussion instrument) littered throughout the song, which added to the tropical island fantasy. The Gakudan's cover was a lot crisper with a much faster tempo, which I eventually learned was much closer to the 1942 original. The Haida version I'd been listening to, a later-day recording, on the other hand, was more sultry and had a fuller arrangement with more resounding strings and percussions. This one really felt like it epitomizes "Tropical Paradise" and it makes one envision a more opulent mango experience - rather than buying a mango from a young street vendor at an open market, it feels more like you're served a cut-up mango on a pristine beach as you sway about on a hammock. Because of that, I do have a preference for the solo Haida version. Even though I think he sounds like Mr Fujiyama (Ichiro) with a cold, it seems to blend wonderfully in "Jawa no Mango Uri".

The Gakudan's version

As someone from a tropical island, it can be assumed that I don't subscribe to the "Tropical Paradise" fantasy. And I think that's mostly right because it's sweltering all year round and there is nothing laid-back about Singapore. But we do have mangoes... imported from Malaysia and Thailand. That said, I wouldn't mind kicking back on a beautiful beach with some mango. Ironically, the most recent time I was able to do that (sans mango) was in Kamakura, Kanagawa prefecture... in Japan. 

A decadent mango dessert
I had a few years back

Otomaru, Noboru Kirishima & Akiko Futaba/Tokyo Taishu Kayo Gakudan -- Namida no Sannin Tabi (涙の三人旅)

 

Song begins around the 35:43 mark

By now, those close to me are keenly aware of the term "Asakusa Bois" and are all too familiar with the subsequent raving reactions from me that follow this term. For the general audience, "Asakusa Bois" is my abridged and colloquial nickname for the ryukoka band Tokyo Taishu Kayo Gakudan (東京大衆歌謡楽団). Most of my good friends at school have had the opportunity to see the early-Showa-era-inspired band in action on the occasion when I invite them for a free showing in the Tokyo area. One such occasion was two Sundays ago. A friend (let's call him Lad A), had been wanting to see the Asakusa Bois he's heard so much of from yours truly, so, together with another fellow (Lad B), we planned to meet at Kameido to see them, with me arriving first at 1pm for the first showing and them for the second. 

A rainy forecast put a snag in the plans when the Gakudan decided to hold their performance indoors at the Kameido Umeyashiki, turning a free-to-watch-for-all into a free-to-watch-for-the-few-who-got-their-hands-on-the-waiting-tickets. The lads and I did not have the tickets, not even for the third and last surprise performance. Mentally defeated after hours of waiting and a lacklustre week, I was ready to throw in the towel. Lad B (much credit to him) was not having it, insisting we ask if we could slide into the venue despite having no tickets... it was that or pretend we were a bunch of impertinent grandchildren looking for their grandmother. Perhaps it was because it was already 5pm, dark and rainy and we were the last poor souls in line, we were allowed entry with no fuss along with a few other ticketless oldies. 

And so, we three hapless folks somehow managed to see the Asakusa Bois, with Lad A impressed and Lad B with temporary hearing issues. We three hapless folks from different lands somehow ended up on foreign grounds with varying goals and personal hardships. Not wholly unlike our three disparate characters in "Namida no Sannin Tabi", if I do say so myself.

"Namida no Sannin Tabi" was the first instance of a trio in old Japanese music I've come across, I think. Originally sung by geisha Otomaru (音丸), the stage-fright-struck Noboru Kirishima (霧島昇), and the crooner Akiko Futaba (二葉あき子) in 1937, I was introduced to this tune by none other than the Asakusa Bois with their penchant for showcasing hidden gems of the early Showa era. As with many of the numbers they introduce, what drew me to "Namida no Sannin Tabi" was its rather intense bouncy beat amplified by Ryuzaburo's (龍三郎) bass, bearing similarity to determined footsteps filled with purpose. Keishiro's (圭四郎) plucky banjo was reminiscent of the shamisen. Then Kotaro's (孝太郎) resounding vocals becoming the voice of each character really caught my attention, spurring me to explore further and discover the original.

The original take

Yoshi Eguchi (江口夜詩) turned out to be the one behind this forlorn melody. Complementing this is Yaso Saijo's (西条八十) narrative which tells of an encounter between three travellers at the docks one moonlit night waiting for a boat. Realising they're headed towards the same destination, they proceed with self-introductions. Getting the ball rolling is a shamisen-playing singer aptly played by Otomaru, who roams the lands showcasing her craft and trying to forget a past love. Hearing this, Kirishima in the form of a homesick travelling actor speaks up, telling how his pursuit of the roving yakuza lifestyle led him to abandon his family. The last of the boat's passengers is an orphan on an arduous journey with the hope of finding her family, whom Futaba took the role of. In typical later-day enka style, the three find kinship through their shared anguish. 

I don't believe the lads and I are in such depressing circumstances and rather than shared anguish, we have shared monke brain. That said, we are, indeed, three characters who converged at this point in our respective journeys. And even though I usually do enka-related stuff on my own, I appreciated watching the band with them.

To explain what this is, it's part of the repertoire list where I record the Gakudan's selection for the performances I catch. I was trying to recall a song from the encore when Lad B decided to help... I mean, he's not wrong. I did say I felt like I was going to have a heart attack when I saw the band members up close after many months. 

P.S. Recently, the Asakusa Bois has grown to include three more members in their early and mid-20s. I believe their names are Tomoya, Naruki, and Kanta, but they also go by the stage names Tomigoro, Sairoku, and Shichibei respectively. Very apt to be called "five", "six" and "seven", when the original literally go by "one", "two", "three" and "four". They're nice additions to the Gakudan, with Tomigoro and Sairoku on guitar and Shichibei with the tamborine. Even better, they usually make their entrance with a buyo (traditional Japanese dance) number accompanying the main four. 

P.S.S. I just went to see the Asakusa Bois for their Tori no Ichi festival performance near the Otori Shrine and they actually did "Namida no Sannin Tabi"! It's one of my favourites from them but it's relatively uncommon to hear it at their shows, so I was really glad to hear it this time - with the rarer "China Tango", even! At that moment, the pressure of final assignments dissipated. 

Noelle's 2021 in Song

With 2021 coming to a close, I think it'd be a good time for me to add my own yearly round-up. I had been thinking about some theme I wanted to go with, and rather than a singer specific list, I thought I'd go with a list that narrates significant going-ons I had throughout this bumpy year - when is it ever not, though?  Without further ado, let's begin.

Hachiro Kasuga (春日八郎) -- Ruten no Yoru (流転の夜)

I'd spent the majority of 2020 back in Singapore due to the pandemic, so coming back to Japan exactly a year later in March 2021 needed some readjustments. There was definitely some loneliness (though a lot less than my first year), having to deal with noisy neighbours, and I'd saddled myself with a particularly arduous class that new semester (a few of you might know what I mean...). Basically, it was draining. 

Sometimes, particularly at night, be it from out of the window of that old apartment or on strolls through deserted streets in the middle of the night, I would just look up at the night sky. Being in a faraway land and roaming around trying to do my thing, Hachi's "Ruten no Yoru" of an exhausted wandering soul felt oddly fitting and would put me in a reflective mood. The slightly lonesome-sounding flute, delicate strings and Hachi's delicate vocals were the perfect medicine for my frazzled nerves.

Perhaps it's because I'm in a better head-space now and because I'd been hooked by other songs since then, so "Ruten no Yoru" doesn't resonate as strongly as it did half a year ago. Those memories of watching the stars and the feelings I held at the time had become imprinted on this song, though, and it does come back whenever I listen to it now.

Kiyoshi Hikawa (氷川きよし) -- Ninjou Toridejuku (人情取手宿)

I'd mentioned a number of times that sumo is one of the new hobbies I'd acquired. Spectating it, of course. Rallying behind Tochinoshin who I'd seen on NHK news long before understanding the sport; learning archaic sumo terms and practices; watching Terunofuji destroy the competition and become yokozuna on his return from injury - it was all new, weird, and yet oh, so fun! So, it was cathartic when I was able to watch the tournaments live at the Ryogoku Kokugikan when I was back in Japan. The raw power of seeing these giants tackle each other was amazing, and new yokozuna's Teru-chan's dohyo-iri in September was awesome. Plus, I even got a photo with the now-retired Ikioi, a pretty strong fighter with the voice of an enka singer!

Representing this experience is Kiyoshi Hikawa's "Ninjou Toridejuku". Sure, the wrestler presented in this popular tale used in this song is a hapless fool, but the melody that's grand and filled with vigour just fits the sport so well.

Tadaharu Nakano (中野忠晴)/Tokyo Taishu Kayo Gakudan (東京大衆歌謡楽団) -- China Tango

So, I have this jolly professor whose focus is on China studies and I'd taken a number of his classes this year. From my understanding of international politics in recent years from his classes, it's been nothing but a China Tango... ROLL CREDITS.

My introduction to my new muse (muses?), the ode to early Showa music Tokyo Taishu Kayo Gakudan, was facilitated by Tadaharu Nakano's "China Tango". I'm glad to have come across these Kotaro Takashima and his brothers because not only do they provide fantastic and authentic-sounding covers of ryukoka but through them, my interest in this part of enka/kayokyoku had been revived. In fact, the next few entries had also been introduced by them. They also have the honour of being the first artists below the age of 40 I have really gotten into... if that can be considered an honour at all... 

As for "China Tango" itself, for some reason, the premises of the song, its fun tango rhythm and Ko-san's hearty vocals are just so alluring. At the moment, it's probably my favourite cover tune by the quartet. And, as I had mentioned, I was in the midst of that class international politics class while I was getting into the song. Couldn't have asked for better timing.

Bin Uehara (上原敏) -- Tsuma-koi Dochu (妻恋道中)

Cycling is one of my favourite things to do when I'm in Japan. Perhaps it's because I stay out of Tokyo and away from the mad traffic. Plus, living in the suburbs do provide incredibly scenic routes along rivers, through rice fields, and, when weather permits, Mt. Fuji can be seen looming in the distance. In the new area I'm living in, I get longer stretches of uninterrupted routes like these. I do like to sing to myself while doing so, and what better type of song to sing along to on such cycles than some dochu-mono? Somehow, Bin-san's stuff feels the most appropriate. Maybe's it's the minyo element in it? Either way, even though I'm on a modern albeit run-of-the-mill utility bicycle and not trudging around with straw sandals, I can't help but feel like one of those early Edo era travellers humming away to keep oneself entertained on a long journey. Plus, autumn foliage just made everything look 10 times as picturesque.

Bin-san has lots of matatabi enka under his belt, but, as implied in an earlier article, I have a soft spot for "Tsuma-koi Dochu". Have to thank the Takashima brothers for this too, though.

Haruo Oka (岡晴夫) -- Shiawase Wa Ano Sora Kara (幸福はあの空から)

As somewhat of a perfectionist who stresses wanting to live up to expectations, a particularly difficult lesson I had to learn this year was that it is okay to be wrong and not get things right all the time. Of course, I'm still learning how to do so and to apply it to not just school but social interactions as well. But, at the end of the day, things somehow worked themselves out and, to balance out the bad moments of the year, great moments were around the corner... You could even say, the happiness came from the sky. ROLL CREDITS. AGAIN.

Okkapal's "Shiawase Wa Ano Sora Kara" is probably not one of his notable works but with a title like that and the words of hope and endurance embedded in the lyrics, it is quite a pick-me-upper. It's almost as if he's encouraging you to hang on. I reckon everyone needs something like this in this current situation too. Hopefully, things will get better in the coming year.

And with that, we've come to the end of the article. Thanks for making it to the end. I'm not sure if I'll be posting anything between now and the new year, so let me take this opportunity to wish everyone a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year! 

Bin Uehara/Tokyo Taishu Kayo Gakudan -- Tsuma-koi Dochu (妻恋道中)

Look, Bin-san, it's Uehara Bin 2- err- I mean, Ko-san

Looking at the two fellows above, one who didn't make it past 1945 and one who hasn't hit 40 yet, I wonder if I think the former is cute because I think the latter is so, or if I find the latter appealing because I find the former was too. Either way, I ended up having the need to get a bromide of Bin Uehara (上原敏) shortly after I came to adore Kotaro Takashima (高島孝太郎) of Tokyo Tashishu Kayo Gakudan (東京大衆歌謡楽団).

I mean, I'd seen some shots of Bin-san and he did look rather sweet by my standards, albeit of the geeky, accountant-looking sort (well, I mean, I do see Ko-san the same way too), so the bromide is a nice addition to my collection. But, interestingly enough, some of my favourite ryukoka actually do come from him. This is not self-justification of getting a bromide of a singer who far pre-dates Hachi or Haru-san, I promise. Besides, I got some Batayan and Okappal stuff too.

Beginning with "Uramachi Jinsei" (裏町人生), I slowly grew to enjoy Uehara's minyo-hinted ryukoka singing style. Then came "Hatoba Katagi" (波止場気質), and eventually the ronin-based songs he was easily most known for, "Ruten" (流転) and "Tsuma-koi Dochu". I'll be featuring "Tsuma-koi Dochu" here.

I think of the sub-categories of enka/ryukoka that exist, the ronin/wanderer and husband-wife relations themes are definitely my favourites. A number of tunes feature an amalgamation of both, one of them being "Tsuma-koi Dochu". In this 1937 instalment of misery, we join who I think is a samurai who had to leave his beloved wife behind to become a ronin - perhaps he couldn't find employment under any master and had to resort to this dishonourable path cursed with solitude. In Masato Fujita's (藤田まさと) words, he begets his wife to not hold it against him and tries to put on a strong front, but he himself is aching badly on the inside. 

Bin-san's gentle vocals shine as he takes each vowel for a rollercoaster ride with Takeo Abe's (阿部武雄) shamisen-filled composition. Overall, it sounds on the moderately upbeat side, which, I guess can be seen as the fellow's strong front. But Uehara's forlorn delivery does seem to convey his lamentations over his fate. Y'know, considering the time the song had been released, I wonder if this could be used in the context of a soldier having to be shipped off to war, being separated from his wife at the orders of the nation.

"Tsumakoi Dochu" is at the 16:05 mark

As with the past songs I had recently written about, it was through Tokyo Taishu Kayo Gakudan that I actually got a full listen of this wandering yakuza tune. Because Bin-san's matatabi enka tend to be of a slower tempo that showcases much of his kobushi skills, it did take me a bit longer to really get into it. It simply took hours upon hours of Ko-san & Brothers, being tickled by "Aho" (I'm monke brain, alright?), and realising how perfect it is to sing it on long cycles through the countryside and across cities. But, I have to say that hearing how each singer handles the words has to be my next greatest enjoyment of "Tsuma-koi Dochu".

The song is at the 4:15 mark

As I mentioned, "Tsuma-koi Dochu" is one of Bin-san's many musical legacies, so much so that even enka greats like Hachiro Kasuga (春日八郎) and Haruo Minami (三波春夫) have done their own renditions. Hachi's version retains the original flavour save for his more kayokyoku-esque vocals, not unlike the Gakudan's take. Hachi's cover makes its first appearance in his ronin-themed enka cover album "Kasuga Hachiro Ninkyo wo Utau" (春日八郎仁侠を歌う) from 1970.

Haru-san's one in the video here, on the other hand, is a whole different ball game. Haru-san is no stranger to such tunes and his chirpy vocals are a joy to hear, fluttering over the words. Together with the faster pace and modern arrangements with an electric guitar instead of shamisen, this does give "Tsuma-koi Dochu" a peppy, cheery slant. I believe Minami's version first appeared in 1974 in "Minami Haruo 'Hana no Matatabi Nikki'" (三波春夫“ 花の股旅日記").

Personally, I lean towards Bin-san's original and the Gakudan's modern-yet-old-sounding take. 

P.S. Usually, around this time, I would've decided on a song for the year. Oddly enough, this is it. Really came out of the left field. I was expecting a Hachi or Haru-san (original) song or something. Well, welcome to the club Bin-san! (?)

Hamako Watanabe/Yoshiko Yamaguchi/Tokyo Taishu Kayo Gakudan -- Itoshi Ano Hoshi (いとしあの星)

From the moment I unwittingly uttered an "Ah, Ko-san!" when the scrawny, pale fellow stepped up onto the Noh stage at the Asakusa shrine, I knew that the Takashima Brothers from Toyama prefecture have officially become my muse for this Autumn. In hindsight, I should've seen it coming: Smart-looking, Kotaro's (孝太郎) mellow vocals, high definition versions of ryukoka tunes, and having them constantly in my ears as I hack away at my readings. It was only a matter of time. Don't know how I feel about associating the Liberal Democratic Party with the likes of  "Midori no Chiheisen" (緑の地平線), though, but here I am. 

Anyway, a while ago I wrote about the pre-war piece that was "China Tango" which Tokyo Taishu Kayo Gakudan (東京大衆歌謡楽団... lit: Tokyo public music group) had covered. And today I bring you another one of their remakes, this time "Itoshi Ano Hoshi". 

Similar to "China Tango", what first caught my interest in this song was its rhythmic beat albeit at a much quicker tempo. In fact, the frenetic pace at which the bass and banjo are plucked and the blaring notes of the accordion are almost reminiscent of a steam train chugging away, or even the rumbling of a horse carriage headed off to some far off town. Either way, I wonder if this rousing melody was what made "Itoshi Ano Hoshi" somewhat of a mainstay in many of the quartet's performances. 

Since I was able to fish out the title from the comments, I didn't have to dig deep to find the original take of "Itoshi Ano Hoshi". Hamako Watanabe (渡辺はま子) had first recorded this in January 1940. Hearing her falsetto lightly dance over the words written by Hachiro Sato (サトウハチロー), the image of a girl infatuated by her special one and yearning for him can be envisioned a lot easier in comparison to Kotaro's hearty warbling. Watanabe was known as the purveyor of hits with connections to the Chinese continent and this song is no exception, made obvious by the Chinese sound in its melody, courtesy of Ryoichi Hattori (服部良一). 

In fact, "Itoshi Ano Hoshi" was actually the theme of the movie "Byakuran no Uta" (白蘭の歌) from 1939. It starred Chinese-Japanese actress-singer Yoshiko Yamaguchi (山口淑子) a.k.a Li Xianglan (李香蘭), who also had her rendition of this tune. Incidentally, Watanabe was supposed to be something like the Japanese mainland counterpart to Yamaguchi, who was active in China in the time before all hell broke loose... again. 

I believe the video here is Yamaguchi's version and it shows snippets from that film. The plot, set in the 1930s in Imperial Japan's annexed Manchuria, revolves around a love story between a Chinese girl of elite Manchurian descent, played by Yamaguchi, and a Japanese fellow who's working as an engineer at the South Manchurian Railway Company, played by Kazuo Hasegawa (長谷川一夫). But, really, in true propaganda film fashion, our main character here is really the railway being built. Why? Well, while our main characters do end up together, they end up sacrificing themselves to protect the railway's construction progress during the Marco Polo Bridge incident... Sarcasm aside, "Itoshi Ano Hoshi" does illustrate how our leading lady feels as she awaits letters from her engineer beau.  

On an end note, even though I hoped to hear "Itoshi Ano Hoshi" during my first viewing of the Gakudan's regular Asakusa Shrine performances on 31st October, it wasn't on their setlist for the day or, at least, during the 2nd of their 2 showings. Ah, well. I have many more opportunities to hear it and other favourites of mine in time to come... In fact, I intend to be doing so very soon on November 10th. 

Welcome to the wall, fellas.

Y'know, the Gakudan members do look like 4 copies of a product with some variations that make them relatively discernable. They're all great and I like them all. But. Admittedly. I do have a very, very marginal preference for Yujiro (although it does regularly shift to Kotaro). If you haven't read the "China Tango" article, I'll have you figure out which of the 3 instrumentalists Yujiro is. 

P.S. A few friends had accompanied me to see the quartet in action that afternoon, and it did amuse me that they seemed fascinated by the band's get-up and instruments. It then made me realise that in not usually seeing such an image and hearing such a sound regularly or ever, it would indeed be fascinating. I did greatly appreciate their willingness to take it all in. Rain and ryukoka.

Tadaharu Nakano/Tokyo Taishu Kayo Gakudan -- China Tango (チャイナ・タンゴ )

 

Me: I feel like I haven't listened to some good ryukoka in a while.

The ryukoka brothers 4: Okappal? Fujiyama? BIN?? What're in for, missy?

What would happen if Bin Uehara (上原敏) were to be transported from pre-war to modern Japan? ...Is a question that has never crossed my mind until now. The answer? Well, he'd probably be shell-shocked over today's tech. But he'd probably be just as perturbed to see a modern-day doppelganger of himself in Kotaro Takashima(高島孝太郎). Doesn't he just look like a spitting image of the pre-war star? Or maybe even a bespectacled Ichiro Fujiyama(藤山一郎)? And that's not to mention his brothers (in descending order) who look like they were part of a Taisho/early Showa era band complete with an accordion (Yujiro... 雄次郎), wood bass (Ryuzaburo... 龍三郎) and banjo (Keishiro... 圭四郎). Together, this quartet is known as the Tokyo Taishu Kayo Gakudan (東京大衆歌謡楽団). That is a mouthful.

I'd seen thumbnails of these guys fairly regularly whenever I was to dig around YouTube for the moderately obscure postwar or pre-war ditty. They appeared to me like some questionable, gimmicky street busking act, though their legitimacy increased when I saw that they'd appeared on enka TV programs. But I still didn't think to give them a go until very recently when, for some reason, I finally relented to their rendition of Mr Fujiyama's "Oka wo Koete" (丘を越えて). The moment a voice akin to that of a music university graduate from the 1920s or 30s came out from the scrawny and pale but dapper-looking vocalist, I knew I'd been sorely missing out this whole time. Listening to the eldest Takashima brother belt out Japanese evergreen tunes in his smooth tenor (?) to the accordion rifts and plucky banjo felt very different from hearing enka singers doing covers of the same songs. Rather, as insinuated earlier, it was more like hearing the song from an actual singer of that time period, which is quite a bizarre experience. But I'm here for it. 

The band only seems to do covers of songs from the 30s to the 50s, the most notable are tunes by Haruo Oka (岡晴夫) and Mr Fujiyama. Putting their hour-or-so-long live performances in the back while doing my class reading assignments (on pre and post-war Japanese politics, oddly enough), I revel in hearing familiar favourites. They pleasantly surprised me with Bin-san's "Hatoba Katagi" (波止場気質), which ultimately coined my subtitle for Kotaro, "The Modern-day Uehara Bin". But many unfamiliar numbers soon entered my good list. One of them being "China Tango".

The original take by Nakano

Now, "China Tango", which is at the 52:04 mark in the first video, caught my attention with its upbeat, rhythmic tango tempo and Kotaro's operatic delivery. I'm also a sucker for the slightly oriental flavour in these Chinese-like-but-not songs for some reason, so I took to it immediately (no, I don't think my ethnicity has got anything to do with it). 

Recorded in 1939, "China Tango" was originally by Tadaharu Nakano (中野忠晴), as I found out via random searches through YouTube. Nakano is a familiar name to me for he had composed a good number of hits by fellows like Hachiro Kasuga (春日八郎) and Michiya Mihashi (三橋美智也). But that he used to be a singer himself caught me off guard. As it turns out before Nakano became known for his music writing, he was first a popular song and jazz singer around the mid-1930s under the Colombia Japan label. One with a pretty cute smile, at that. "China Tango" was one of the hits he had from that time, written by renowned songwriting duo Ko Fujiura (藤浦洸) and Ryoichi Hattori (服部良一). Fujiura's words illustrate the sparks between our main character, probably as dapper as Kotaro or Nakano, and a local girl perhaps doing the tango to the tune of some street performer under the colourful lights of nighttime Suzhou.

Nakano did have quite a deep and pleasant voice that shines in the chorus, but unfortunately, throat issues after the war cut his singing career short and he switched to composing music at King Records. But, I guess the silver lining in that was that this was what made him a prominent name in the ryukoka/enka/kayo world.

P.S. Strangely, I'd just been thinking recently that my exploration of early Showa era tunes by the likes of Okappal and Mr Fujiyama had stagnated. Discovering Tokyo Taishu Kayo Gakudan revived that niche part of my kayo interest, to which I'm glad.