Akira Matsudaira -- Isoge Horo Basha (急げ幌馬車)

Postwar era Eguchi
From Hachi's "Futari no Sakamichi"
autobiography (1981)

Yoshi Eguchi (江口夜詩). 

There is no doubt that he was on par with the early kayo greats like Masao Koga (古賀政男), Ryoichi Hattori (服部良一), and Yuji Koseki (古関裕而). After all, the former naval band officer was behind countless ryukoka classics from the Showa single digits to the Showa 30s (1930s-1950s). Yet, somehow, his presence seemed relatively muted in comparison to the above-mentioned bunch. At least, it felt that way to me. It was always Koga sensei this, R. Hatter that; I get Yuji-san's appeal now, etc. But I've somehow always forgotten about Eguchi.

The first half of the podcast.

Apparently, Eguchi's birthday was on 1st July, so the "Osakabe-Takehei Showa no Utagoe" (刑部たけ平の昭和の歌声) episode for this month naturally centered around him. The show's nice selection had me reflecting, and I came upon a revelation: I actually like more Eguchi Melody than I thought I did, and the bespectacled composer with the tiny moustache played a significant role in my kayokyoku-ryukoka-enka journey without even me realising. You see, the very first ryukoka that had ever hit my ears about 13 years ago was Haruo Oka's (岡晴夫) sunny "Akogare no Hawaii Koro" (憧れのハワイ航路). My Hachiro Kasuga (春日八郎) went under Eguchi's wing in a last-ditch effort to debut around 1950 or so, and finally made his break with the fateful "Akai Lamp no Shuressha" (赤いランプの終列); it was also the first Hachi song I heard 8 years ago. And then in the present day, we have Akira Matsudaira (松平晃). "Minato no Ame" (港の雨) finally made me notice the singer's presence, and look where we are now. I hear a call from Gifu, and it's coming from the Yoshi Eguchi Museum.

Akira-san was, perhaps, the singer Eguchi sensei was most associated with. They produced a spate of hits especially in the first half of the 1930s. So successful was the Columbia Matsudaira-Eguchi combo that it was said to rival the (Ichiro) Fujiyama-Koga combo at Teichiku. But even a little before their golden age at Columbia Records, prof. Osakabe in the kayo podcast's Eguchi episode mentioned that Matsudaira and Eguchi had already worked together at Polydor Records in 1932, producing the mildly successful "Wasurarenu Hana" (忘られぬ花). At the time, Akira-san was Toshio-san (Toshio Ikegami... 池上利夫) - this was when he was doing undercover recordings at various companies while at music school and used multiple stage names. So, the relationship between Akira-san and Eguchi sensei ran pretty far back.

Anyways, what launched the Matsudaira-Eguchi duo into fame was "Isoge Horo Basha" (Hurry on, Covered Wagon) from 1934. Its lyrics were penned by Yoshifumi Shimada (島田芳文), and it revolves around our protagonist riding through the wilds of Manchuria on an adventure without a destination. "Isoge Horo Basha" is commonly known as and seen as one songs that kickstarted the craze for "Koya mono" (曠野もの), songs that revolve around Manchuria and focuses on roaming the expansive northern plains. Because of that, they have this element of adventure, but also a wistful longing. It's most characteristic traits are a rhythmic melody (often in the minor key) with a quick tempo, mimicking the pace of a horse carriage barreling through plains, and the tinkling of sleigh bells replicating the jingling of the bells on said carriages.

The media is always quick to incorporate what's hot into its products. Manchuria was one of the hottest topics at the time, what with Imperial Japan's move on it as one of its own in the early 1930s, the politically spicy incidents (e.g. the Manchurian Incident, the Lytton Report), and the migration of locals over to the new frontier for adventure and fresh opportunities (not yet in full force, though) that followed*. Koya mono, "Isoge Horo Basha" being one of it, was produced under such circumstances. Also, the exotic atmosphere from the Russian-sounding melodies and image of Koya mono actually feels reminiscent of American films depicting the Wild West.

Akira-san utatteru!!

I've said before that I did not like "Isoge Horo Basha," and it was part of the reason why I couldn't have cared any less for Akira-san than I do chocolate ice cream (yes, I'm not a fan of chocolate ice cream). Its minor key giving it a foreboding atmosphere I was mostly averse to, and I just wasn't too keen on the concept of Koya mono in the first place. But ever since I came to like Akira-san (my sentiments on chocolate ice cream remain the same, though) and became willing to sample his darker-sounding tunes, I decided to give "Isoge Horo Basha" another chance. I'd met a fellow ryukoka enthusiast at record cafe Ataraxia some time back for some SP record appreciation and among his collection was "Isoge Horo Basha," so I took the opportunity to listen to it on the credenza gramophone. If I fell in love with the way Akira-san sounded singing a Basha mono (馬車もの... Horse carriage songs, which is also what "Isoge Horo Basha" is) on a smaller Victrola gramophone at prof. Osakabe's event a month prior, surely the almost-century old credenza at the cafe would do the same. Long story short, it did.

What first surprised me was how soft and delicate Akira-san’s voice was in delivering “Isoge Horo Basha.” I always held the assumption that he reserved a more deadpan and dry delivery when doing Koya mono, so this was a pleasant discovery. The next thing was Eguchi sensei’s melody. Prof. Osakabe’s event had taught me to pay closer attention to the musical accompaniments in these songs, and doing so allowed me to finally understand why this tune was such a hit. While, yes, the harried tempo conveys a sense of urgency and the image of a horse carriage rushing through the Manchurian plains, what I really enjoyed was how it begins with the sleigh bells slowly building towards a dramatic crescendo of strings and percussions. And then at the end of the song, the melody peters out and all you hear is the sleigh bells once again. It’s as if you’re in some village and you hear the carriage approaching from a distance, then see it roar past you, and then off it disappears into the horizon. Tamaranai! (≧ω≦人)

On another note, according to the "Showa no Utagoe" podcast, there was only one musician Masao Koga saw as a rival, and that was Eguchi. Both were constantly trying to one-up each other, and the latter seemed to draw inspiration from the former's successes. Case in point, "Wasurarenu Hana" and Koga's "Kage wo Shitaite" (影を慕いて). Being cognizant of this trend, I noticed that "Isoge Horo Basha" has a somewhat similar structure and sound to Koga's earlier "Circus no Uta" (サーカスの唄... Akira-san's other smash hit)... Well, but that's just a personal view. 

Anyways, to wrap up, here is Hachi's version of "Isoge Horo Basha." It was released in "Kasuga Hachiro Enka Hyaku Sen" (春日八郎演歌100選) in 1973. Come to think of it, I think I first heard this tune via Hachi years ago before I even moved Japan. As you'd expect, I did not like it at the time. But now, I think it's pretty good and fits his forlorn vocals quite well. However, I am partial to the original's arrangement.

*Information on Koya mono and its background came from my understanding of Edgar Pope's "Songs of the Empire Continental Asia in Japanese Wartime Popular Music" (2003) and Kiyomaro Kikuchi's "Showa Enka no Rekishi" (2016).

Tadaharu Nakano -- Kougen no Uta (高原の唄)

Natsu da! Natsu da yo, Mr. Nakano!

When you think of Masao Koga (古賀政男), one of the fathers of kayokyoku and sometimes cited as (but highly debatably so) the Father of Enka, you likely think of his dark yonanuki (pentatonic scale) minor melodies that relay gloom and angst through that all too familiar lonely guitar or mandolin sound. "Kage wo Shitaite" (影を慕いて). "Jinsei no Namiki Michi"(人生の並木路). "Yu no Machi no Elegy" (湯の町エレジー).  These are often cited as the quintessential Koga Melody and, in the "Father of Enka" discourse, the roots of enka. But Koga sensei had way more up his sleeve and created music in a myriad of different styles, themes, and moods. "Midori no Chiheisen" (緑の地平線). "Konna Watashi Janakatta ni"(こんな私じゃなかったに). "Koi no Manjushage" (恋の曼珠沙華). 

The singer most associated with Koga Melody is probably Ichiro Fujiyama (藤山一郎); many of the Fujiyama-Koga combos becoming some of the most beloved evergreen tunes. Another is Shigeo Kusunoki (楠木繁夫), the two of them being the best of friends. But Koga sensei also composed for many other singers, but unfortunately those pieces were overshadowed by the aforementioned hits and overlooked by mainstream media. Today, I shall put the spotlight on a tune which one is unlikely to notice that it's a Koga creation which was sung by a singer one wouldn't associate with the venerable composer: Tadaharu Nakano's (中野忠晴) "Kougen no Uta" (lit. Plateau Song).

"Kougen no Uta" was released on 1st July 1932 and was the 2nd official single by the fresh-faced tenor who had only just graduated from Musashino Music School four months earlier. Mr. Nakano's most well-known for his foray in jazz and work with Koga's compatriot Ryoichi Hattori (服部良一), but he recorded a few Koga compositions early in his career, including his debut song, before the composer's move from Columbia to Teichiku Records in 1934 (he moved back to Columbia around 1939 or so). Unfortunately, “Kougen no Uta” did not seem to be a particular success, its release sandwiched between and thus overshadowed by debut tune “Yogiri no Minato” (夜霧の港) and Olympic theme “Hashire Daichi” (国際オリンピック選手派遣応援歌-走れ大地).

Listening to "Kougen no Uta," I'd say that besides the familiar sound of the group of mandolins strumming away in the back (brought to you by the Meiji Mandolin Orchestra), its overall profile did not feel like the Koga Melody I'd been exposed to for the longest time. In fact, it didn't sound Japanese or particularly Western either. It had an oriental sound that felt North Korean or Chinese to my ears, but I could be completely wrong. If it was indeed the case, though, I wonder if Koga's formative years in Korea had anything to do with it. Or it could simply be of the Meiji-Taisho enka sound. Either way, it's got a refreshing feel that makes it perfect for early summer.

コロムビア月報６月（昭和７）
From the National Diet Library Archives　

To Koga's melody, Yoshifumi Shimada (島田芳文) wrote the words depicting a scenery of verdant nature out in the great outdoors. It's as if you’re on a hike through the woods in the mountains taking in that sweet fresh air. The bird chirps in the earlier half of “Kougen no Uta” makes the musical hiking experience more immersive. But what I love most about this song is Shimada’s artful description of the progression of time the day spent in the woods: The morning dew on the leaves of a white lily in the mountain valley, the indigo silhouette of the distant mountains, and the white birch leaves whispering as the moon shines over the marshlands. You know the bird chirps? Since the second half of the song narrates night taking over the green valley, it makes sense to not have the bird sounds in that section. 

Mr. Nakano’s more straightforward and relatively stiff delivery, reflective of the singing style when the Showa era was still in single digits, somehow makes “Kougen no Uta” sound a bit more raw. It’s as if we’re listening to a fellow hiker relay the beauty of nature and summer while trudging along a forest trail.

I was reading a little on "Kougen no Uta" in the July edition of the 1932 Columbia Records Monthlies, and it mentioned that it was created in a similar vein to the earlier released "Camp Kouta" (キャンプ小唄), what with the same lyricist-composer team. Both certainly give off that summer outdoorsy vibe, but Mr. Nakano's tune seems more forlorn and introspective in comparison to Mr. Fujiyama's lighthearted ode to camping. On that note, considering the number of tunes featuring these outdoor activities in the early to mid-1930s, it seemed like hiking and camping were all the rage back then. Maybe it was to strike a balance with the hustle and bustle of the city centers.

Despite not being a traditional Koga Melody or Nakano jazz number, I love “Kougen no Uta” very much for the reasons above. Had I heard it before my Mr. Nakano birthday dedication article, this would certainly have been included. 

Now that summer is in full swing here in Japan, the cycling trail near home base has become quite lush - a little less so now because of some weed-whacking. It flanks a river, cuts through rice fields, and on clear days you can see the mountains in the distance. As I cycle down the trail in the recent days, I can't help by feel how apt the atmosphere of "Kougen no Uta" is to the scenery before me... even if my part of town is probably more a no or susono dotted with tanbo than kougen, and I can see the next bit of town before I can the mountains. Still, it's now become one of my summer cycling songs.