I've been a fan of Japanese popular music for 40 years, and have managed to collect a lot of material during that time. So I decided I wanted to talk about Showa Era music with like-minded fans. My particular era is the 70s and 80s (thus the "kayo kyoku"). The plus part includes a number of songs and artists from the last 30 years and also the early kayo. So, let's talk about New Music, aidoru, City Pop and enka.
Credits
I would like to give credit where credit is due. Videos are from YouTube and other sources such as NicoNico while Oricon rankings and other information are translated from the Japanese Wikipedia unless noted.
I haven't seen "Uta Con"（うたコン）today but according to what I heard last week and seen on their schedule, this week's episode will be the annual tribute to the Queen of Kayo Kyoku, Hibari Misora（美空ひばり）, who would have been 89 years old on May 29th. Just looking at the lineup, it appears that I've already covered the songs to be performed such as the triumphant "Yawara"（柔）, so I've opted to find one of my own from her vast discography to pay a KKP tribute.
This time, I'm going way back into her career. In fact, I'll be focusing on her 8th single from September 1950, "Uramachi Paradise"(Back Street Paradise). Written by Toshio Nomura（野村俊夫）and composed/arranged by Hideo Hirakawa（平川英夫）, it's a pretty jaunty kayo kyoku about meeting that significant other and realizing that everything...even the dark and ominous streets of the city...can be filled with light and hope as a result. It's a stroll-worthy tune and let's remember that Misora was all of thirteen years of age when she recorded this.
Nakano in 1949 during the in-between period when he took a break from the music world. Fromアサヒグラフ (22/6/1949)
Feels like it's been a while since I've done a solo piece on Jazz Daddy Dandy Tadaharu Nakano (中野忠晴), what with me predominantly sniffing around for any crumb of information about his postwar activities as of late. But in between unearthing such random tidbits, such as him playing for the King Records baseball team in the 50s, and sampling a variety of his postwar compositions, I would have evenings where I'd dig around good ol’ YouTube for works from his stint as a singer.
With the exception of gunka and school/company songs, Mr. Nakano the singer was most known for covers of an assortment of western music, particularly jazz, and ryukoka with strong western flavours. But this trend seemed to have only began once he began dabbling in American jazz and putting together the Rhythm Boys & Sisters chorus groups from about 1934 onwards. Prior to that, as a new face of Columbia Records, he mainly did the standard ryukoka and the then-trending shin min'yo between 1932 and 1933. The jumps from 1932 Nakano to 1937 Nakano, and then back to 1933 Nakano, for instance, is pretty jarring, and can make you wonder if it's the same man singing all those songs.
A tune that I came across earlier this year from one of these expeditions was Haru wa Hohoemu (Spring smiles). This spring-themed jazzy number was released in March 1939. It’s got a cheerful melody with a chic piano solo that has a warmth like a spring breeze. To match the light tune, Nakano had also toned down his ordinarily powerful and resonant voice into a gentle lilt, conveying a protagonist reveling in the joys of spring and his youth - haru/spring seems to be a fairly common metaphor for youth in ryukoka.
Anyway, to me, Haru wa Hohoemu sounded like something one would hear on the other side of the Pacific, so much so that I had assumed that this was yet another of Nakano’s covers. So, seeing the names of Columbia Records (Japan) employees Toshio Nomura (野村俊夫) for the lyrics and Hideo Hirakawa (平川英夫) for the music on the record label had me doing a double-take - it’s a locally-produced original! Then again, Takio Niki (仁喜他喜雄) was on arrangement duty. If you ever see the name of this aloof-looking musician, especially under “Arranger” (編曲家), you're more often than not going to be hearing a cover of of western tune (a.k.a. jazz song), or a ryukoka that sounds uncannily like western music. As you'd expect, he's handled a number of both for Nakano, including this one.
I like Haru wa Hohoemu quite a lot as it showcases a side of Mr. Nakano I don't hear as often. As mentioned, he has a strong and bright voice, which lends well to the super upbeat ditties or dramatic numbers he's synonymous with. But I appreciate his softer, more intimate crooning as well. Honestly, though, Nakano could sing in any style and it'd still make my heart flutter (*´艸`).
Honoka ni yume wo oi nagara (Chasing a dream so faint)
Itsuka kohi no sameru no mo (I didn't even realise)
Shirazu ni sugosu boku datta (When my coffee's gone cold)
Everyone likes a good cafe, right? I know I do. It's where I can enjoy coffee as a wonderful drink and not as a necessary drug to keep myself from turning into a walking corpse. Of course, I have to pair it with a cute and tasty dessert. Then I'll immerse myself in a book or a school project and forget that the outside world exists until I notice more than 2 hours have passed. Often times, my coffee gets cold, but it only makes for a better drinking experience. I sound like a coffee aficionado, but believe me, I'm far from it. I just have a (not so) healthy addiction to the caffeinated bean water.
I think Japan has an immense number of cafes of a wide variety. You got your retro kissatens where you can smell the Showa era, the chic and minimalist outlets with your fancy Cold brews, and cozy alcoves that feels like you've entered someone's house. Some may even have a gramophone(s) where you can enjoy records from the bygone days with your cuppa joe. I've been to all the above with a particular preference for the record and cozy type. If it's got a nice Showa atmosphere, even better.
I'm not very familiar with cafe culture in the early Showa era, but those in Ginza, especially, were probably the epitome of modern and where you wanted to be seen in. There were certainly the more low-key kissatens that incur less stress as well. Where ever it may be, these coffee joints were usually fashionable spots (just like now, really) with that fancy Western coffee and gramophones where you could listen to the latest hits and pretend the world's not in an absolute state (just like now, really). As you'd expect, there were many coffee and cafe-related ryukoka that reflect this image, and who better to sing these than the man who oozes early Showa modernism, Tadaharu Nakano (中野忠晴).
From コロンビア月報（邦楽）1940（昭和15年） National Diet Library archives
One of the very first songs I recognized singer Mr. Nakano for was one such song aptly titled, "Chiisana Kissaten" (小さな喫茶店... The Little Coffee Shop), an originally German tune that relays sweet memories of a date at a little cafe (at least, in the Japanese lyrics). A few years later, he would release another kissaten song with a similar tango flavour, "Tanoshiki Kissaten" (The Delightful Coffee Shop). I actually like the latter a lot more and it's one of my Nakano favourites. This is due in part to Toshio Nomura's (野村俊夫) words. Unlike "Chiisana Kissaten,""Tanoshiki..." features our main character deriving joy in dropping by his favourite coffee shop in the evening after a long day or after a walk. He relaxes with a coffee and a smoke, and revels in his own daydreams while listening to some music in the background. The mellow, light-hearted melody by *ahem* Haruo Kashiwagi (柏木晴夫) and Mr. Nakano's ordinarily powerful and resonant baritone turning into a soft lilt matches this more subdued vibe. Perhaps something like that is wafting out of the cafe's gramophone. The bottom photo was the ad for "Tanoshiki Kissaten" from the Columbia Records monthly magazine from February 1940, and it describes this tune as having a sentimental and urban atmosphere. Can't argue with that.
Also, "Haruo Kashiwagi" was actually one of Mr. Nakano's pen names. Considering he was both a singer and songwriter/director in a time when both roles do not mix and the latter was usually the one who calls the shots, I conclude that he was actually quite a powerful artist within the company.
From コロンビア月報（邦楽）1940（昭和15年） National Diet Library archives
Anyways, I don't smoke and I can't have coffee after 3pm if I want to sleep, but as someone who enjoys solo cafe time, "Tanoshiki Kissaten" actually encompasses my state of mind when I drop by a comfy cafe. One of these cafes is this underground (literally) joint called Cafe Ataraxia (かふぇあたらくしあ) in a side street of Jimbocho. It's a modern-looking record cafe with a hint of retro that has a Credenza gramophone and a Syrena gramophone, both older than my late grandfather. The walls are lined with shelves chockful of vinyls and the furniture is a hodge-podge of cute antiques. If you're a fan of classical music, I highly recommend it as chic Master Kubota will always be playing his selection on a turn table. I believe you can make requests, but only if you ask nicely and in advance. As for the coffee, the beans are on constant rotation and they all pack a punch. Then we've got aesthetically pleasing desserts which I'm guessing are made in-house - they look like they are. I first came across Ataraxia when I went for a my first record appreciation event late last year and I've since fell in love with its calm atmosphere, coffee and sweets. Now, I drop by every now and then. It truly is the tanoshiki kissaten. Here's the cafe's website (it's in Japanese) if you'd like to check it out if you're in Tokyo.
I naturally grew a year older while deliberately cutting my life expectancy short with this visit last December. That chocolate cake made it worthwhile.
Would I call Mr. Nakano an early Showa "Modern Boy" (Mo-bo)? I mean, technically, yes, he more than fits the bill, but it feels really wrong to me for some reason. Hai-Katsu is the quintessential mo-bo for sure, but Mr. Nakano feels different. He feels more like a... Jazz Dadd- NO, NO, NO - intrusive thoughts OUT... I will explain that in due time...
Recently, I met a fellow early Showa kayo enthusiast I got to know on the 'gram in person while he was on vacation in Tokyo. I brought him record hunting and introduced him to my favourite record haunts in the Jimbocho area. The topic of conversation amid vinyl viewing was, naturally, the musicians of the time and the technicalities of records - fascinating stuff. One of the artists we touched upon was none other than the great Ichiro Fujiyama (藤山一郎). My natsumelo acquaintance did comment that I seemed kinda "late to the party" on the Fujiyama train despite doing deep dives into the world of Japanese prewar and postwar popular songs. In a way, I do agree with that.
On one hand, Mr. Fujiyama had been one of the very first ryukoka characters I'd encountered nearly a decade ago. I enjoyed some of his spunky evergreen hits and thought he was a pleasant presence with that crystal clear voice. I've also always respected him as one of the kayo greats, all the more so when I came across a video of an elderly Fujiyama fiercely asserting that having a cold was no excuse for not being able to sing. This made me see him as that intimidating music teacher who strives for nothing less than discipline and excellence. In fact, it's the reason why I call him "Mr. Fujiyama" rather than his nickname of "Pin-chan". But that was about it and I never bothered to pay much more attention to him despite his omnipresence in old kayo shows and VTRs.
And then "Shanghai Yakyoku"(Shanghai Serenade). Specifically, this live performance on the music program "Natsukashi no Utagoe" (なつかしの歌声) from 1969.
In Kiyomaro Kikuchi's (菊池清麿)"Showa Enka no Rekishi"(昭和演歌の歴史... History of Showa Enka) from 2016, Taro Shoji (東海林太郎) described his "Murasaki Kouta" (むらさき小唄) as having an ethereal, eerie air to it. I felt the exact same way about "Shanghai Yakyoku" when I watched the this clip. Maybe it was the black and white footage that accentuated the haunting nature of Takio Niki's (仁木他喜雄) score. Maybe it was Toshio Nomura's (野村俊夫) lyrics that seem to relay a mysterious love affair in the enigmatic bayside city. Or, perhaps it was the singer himself, smartly-dressed as always, effortlessly gliding towards the camera just as the music sounded most foreboding with its bellowing strings and deep, menacing trumpets. Strangely ethereal. Wonderfully eerie. Combined with his hearty, textbook perfect delivery and crisp enunciation, Mr. Fujiyama had never seemed so... alluring.
The original take.
Anyway, while the 1930s were chock full of China-centric songs and I can think of a couple that are of a similar dark atmosphere as "Shanghai Yakyoku," I can't help but compare it to another entry from 1939 that falls on the complete opposite end of the ambience spectrum, Tadaharu Nakano's (中野忠晴)"China Tango". They're like different sides of the same, tango-inspired, romantic tune coin. The fantastical "China Tango" feels as though you're about to be treated to a wonderful night on the town with a playful Nakano leading you by the hand. And then we have "Shanghai Yakyoku", its intense atmosphere making it feel as though you've just stepped into a 1920s Shanghai Noir film. Who committed the murder in that alley? No one knows. Maybe the suave Mr. Fujiyama does, and he'll take you by the hand to show you who did it - if you can trust him *cue Niki’s dramatic music*.
But at the end of the day, the image I hold of Mr. Fujiyama remains more or less that of a strict classical music teacher who does “moral”, appropriate-for-the-whole-family rajio kayo. “Shanghai Yakyoku”, however, finally enabled me to see him as a pop singer who can be fun to tune in to. Would I get invested into Mr. Fujiyama? I'd be surprised if I do, because I think his singing's "too perfect" and not much feeling gets conveyed as a result (compared to the fellows I love, at least). For now, though, I'm just happy to listen to more of his works with a renewed appreciation for him.
