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.
Well, for the fourth year in a row, "Kayo Kyoku Plus" has managed to reach 1000 articles in a year. I'm pretty sure that we won't be breaking the 1,103-article record that we achieved last year but that's OK. There's no need to push things anymore. Anyways, this year's 1000th article will be dedicated to the weekly Reminiscings of Youth and also we'll be covering Christmas again as we approach December 25th.
Let's take a look at a Yuletide classic that is literally centuries old. "Deck the Halls" goes all the way back to the 16th century to a Welsh melody when it was a winter carol known as "Nos Galan". The English lyrics were written by Thomas Oliphant back in 1862. My first time with "Deck the Halls" was back probably in kindergarten in the early 1970s when my teacher sang it and then taught it to us moppets.
Then, not too long after, my family got that Ronco album which was making the rounds on TV commercials, "A Christmas Gift", with one of the tracks being "Deck the Halls" as performed by Percy Faith and his orchestra. Faith already has representation on the blog for being the original provider of "Theme from a Summer Place" which was covered by AOR duo The Milky Way in 1979. However, Faith tackles his rendition of "Deck the Halls" with gusto as it sounds like something from a King Arthur movie soundtrack as he and his Knights of the Round Table go forth to celebrate Christmas. Apparently, this version first appeared in 1954.
Of course, there have been tons of renditions of "Deck the Halls" over the years, but one of the most unusual covers was by the jazz vocal trio Lambert, Hendricks & Ross in 1962. Now, I've heard of Dave Lambert, Jon Hendricks and Annie Ross as the pioneers of vocalese which involves placing nimbly-delivered words and phrases within the usual improvised arrangement of jazz instruments, replacing those instruments. The Manhattan Transfer also picked up on the hip lingo, even coming up with their 1985 album"Vocalese".
Lambert, Hendricks & Ross' version was something that I found in a Xmas jazz compilation while I was living in Japan, and it was actually titled "Deck Us All With Boston Charlie". Before you could say Weird Al Yankovic, I could tell from the title and the intro that this was going to be a wacky parody of the original "Deck the Halls". I had assumed all these years that Boston Charlie was some near-lethal form of hooch that boozehounds could get in the various dives and saloons in the not-so-nice areas of town but it was actually just a play on the title. However, that fade-in intro where the three start shrieking the chorus in improbable harmony has always had me imagining the sots stumbling around at night trying to get into that hole in the wall.
Then, everything gets set right with a snappy drum and Lambert, Hendricks & Ross plow into the song with some major scatting while a piano player nimbly skates over the keys like a Gold Medal-winning figure skater. But just before the three end up taking us listeners to something far more respectable, we get thrown back into the back alley as Boston Charlie does its thing and the trio shriek their way off into the darkness. So, "Deck Us All" is more scat than vocalese but below you can see them handle the latter.
So, what were some of the big Japanese hits coming out in 1962? I've got three right here.
Since we are dead in the middle of summer, I'd like to share some songs that represent the hottest season of the year to me. They may not necessarily be summer-themed, but they are summer in atmosphere and spirit, or they simply remind me of summer.
This is a brain-off piece with simple comments rather than proper introductions of the songs. Most of the selection here already have their own entries, so if you'd like to know more about them, feel free to have a look. The idea is just to let you guys enjoy the songs with an unhinged comment or two on the side.
Since I've been talking about songs from the 1930s to the 1960s recently, perhaps some tunes here may come as a surprise as refreshing as a lemon soda on a 36 degree Celsius day. So, let's begin with those first.
I actually discovered this via KKP, so I'll have to thank J-Canuck for this. I think, more than a fun summery tune, this is a bop that just lifts my mood in general.
Perhaps I just so happen to like summer releases from the 1990s, but my "90s J-Pop" playlist tends to get more attention between June and August. Those three tunes, in particular, are my go-tos. Anyways, shall we move on to our usual suspects?
Tadaharu Nakano (中野忠晴) -- Kougen no Uta (高原の唄) (1932)
Ever since J-Canuck mentioned the idea of Mr. Nakano in lederhosen going on a mountain hike in relation this this song, that image has been burned into my mind's eye. I honestly cannot tell you if I like that image or not. It could be kinda hot like Saitama right now, but also lederhosen. I don't think I can handle seeing his legs. Not that I don't want to. Just not like this.( *｀ω´)
Mountains are a good respite from the heat, but so is the sea, so we have this breezy sailor ditty by Akira-san.
One of the funniest things my friend, Ms. C, has added to the not-necessarily-canon lore behind my beloved fellas is that Akira-san is ditzy and jolly in a "head empty" sort of way, but that's what makes him adorable (she got that impression from some snapshots I shared early on). Honestly, the more I find out more about him and dig up photos of him, I can't help but agree, and it's in "Minato Hanarete" where he sounds exactly like that.
Summer will now always remind me of Bin-san because of his death anniversary (29th July) and birthday (August 26th), as well as the memories of heading all the way up to his hometown of Odate, Akita, to pay tribute to him. Twice. Yes, I visited him this year too, and even met up with the lovely Uehara Bin Tsudoi (上原敏集い... Uehara Bin Get-Together). Also, somehow summer makes me feel like cranking up the matatabi mono. The tune that brings those two things together is "Oya Koi Dochu."
Summer also equals bon odori equals ondo, so, of course, we need our ondo ambassador, Haru-san. The temperatures have been sky high in Kanto and it is pain, yet I find it amusing in an ironic way when Haru-san happily goes, "Kyou wa seiten yokatta ne" (Isn't it great that it's a clear day?(°▽°)) Maa, ne.
From a sub-tropical island, we head to a tropical one. I found that "Jawa no Mango Uri" actually has three versions: The original duet from 1942, Hai-Katsu's immediate postwar solo, and another solo likely re-recorded around the 60s or early 70s. I have gone with the latter because its slower, more grandiose arrangement and Hai-Katsu's languid delivery. It screams island paradise.
Also, today happens to be Hai-Katsu's birthday (20th August)! Happy 113th!･:*+.\( °ω° )/.:+
If you have Spotify, December is the time when Spotify Wrapped comes out. For those who do not have Spotify, this is basically a zany little summary of your most listened to songs and artists for the year. It even goes as far as notifying you how much play time you've had in total. As one who now sees Spotify as an indispensable item, I have undoubtedly used it a lot, mainly for my ryukoka dives and certain singers from the prewar era. For others, I would've already had their works downloaded through the wonders of CD ripping and YouTube to MP3 converters. So, in a way, my Spotify Wrapped wasn't fully accurate. Nevertheless, when flipping through my highlights, I came across this:
This was the prelude to showing one's Top 5 songs, but I've never been more called out. Spotify was surely on to something, though, because in just this one year I've added three more fellows to my list of favourites. My shelf has gotten way more crowded than anticipated and I don't know if that's a good thing. But sly jabs from Spotify aside, since it's indeed that wrap-up time of year, I would like to do a comprehensive list of my current fixations. My past few articles have been rather info-heavy, so I wanted to do a "brain-off" piece where the only thing I'll be doing in the entirety of this piece is talk about how much I like a handful of singers (you have been warned). Along with that, I'll also include a song each that would be relatively obscure but still greatly enjoyed by me.
Without further ado, let's begin from the one who's at the very top of my list.
I always thought many of Hachi's less popular works were some of his best, like "Wakasa no Umare" (Born in Wakasa) and "Irie no Machi" (入江の町...Town of Irie). In fact, these songs, respectively the A-side and B-side of the same record (shown above), are both within my Hachi Top 5. I love "Irie no Machi," but it's "Wakasa Umare" that steals the show. Unfortunately, I can only offer you guys a very short snippet of it from Bilibili, and you can check it out by clicking here. It showcases one and one-thirds of the full song's four stanzas, so it probably won't be that hard to imagine what the whole thing is like. But because I immediately fell in love with its mellow oriental-yet-bossa-nova sound in just that single minute of play time, it was imperative that I hear the full version for myself. However, despite being an A-side, I think "Wakasa Umare" only ever appeared in a Hachi full discography CD collection once and it's never appeared on YouTube. What's wild is that the B-side appears in albums and is easily available online. So to make sure I didn't lose my mind, I ended buying the "Wakasa Umare" record just so I could satisfy my curiosity. I'd never been more pleased to hear the full version of a song.
Ah, yes, I'll never forget that Kohaku clip of "Sado no Koi Uta" (Sado Love Song). Haru-san was passionate in his craft. Haru-san was intense in his delivery. But this video made me more or less certain that, under that professional surface, Haru-san was hot stuff and knew it. And showed it. What made his flamboyant performance ever more alluring was the Sado Okesa-inspired dramatic score to "Sado no Koi Uta," which felt like it was sharp and mysterious enough for him flaunt his style.
3. Bin Uehara (上原敏) -- Oiwake Dochu (追分道中) (1939)
If Hachi conveys forlornness and loneliness in a relatively Western style, Bin-san does so in a strongly Japanese one. An instance of this is in"Oiwake Dochu" (Oiwake Travels),a matatabi mono based on the yakuza Kira no Nikichi. It's in relatively mournful pieces like this one that demands a considerable amount of kobushi from him where I feel Bin-san's gentle minyo-based high-tone shines the brightest. It makes him sound so sad and pitiful, yet for some reason that I can't explain, I also find it cute (?)... That is certainly just a me thing and I'd be genuinely surprised if anyone else saw it that way.
4. Katsuhiko Haida (灰田勝彦) -- Tasogare no Hakage ni (たそがれの葉陰に) (1948)
Hai-Katsu may be the most high energy of the singers I know, but he actually has many warm and cozy tunes. As he croons such soft numbers, his smooth tenor sounds like a gentle whisper that can untangled one's jangled nerves (*´ω`*). I now certainly appreciate his yodeling ability and think some of his baseball-themed anthems are pretty inspiring, but it's the baseball-crazed crooner's calm side that really speaks to me. "Tasogare no Hakage ni" (In the Shadows of the Trees at Twilight) is a song of this sort. His quiet delivery complements the bossa nova jazz melody nicely, bringing to mind the urban autumn foliage in the late afternoon sun. It was a tune I couldn't do without this Fall season and I think it still holds up as we move into winter.
The song comes in at the 2:51 mark.
5. Yoshio Tabata (田端義夫) -- Ame no Yatai (雨の屋台) (1950)
Ame ame ame dayo ohairi yo onee-chan (It's rainin', it's pourin'. C'mon in, missy)
Sora wo nirandatte (demo) yamikonashi sa (Not like glaring at the sky's gonna stop it!)
Osu! No words can describe how much I love "Ame no Yatai" (Stall in the Rain). I've heard this one's a fan favourite that's often overlooked by mainstream media, which is a shame considering how fun of a little ditty it is. The original is of a languid pace reminiscent of those wistful times you watch the rain pour outside and hope it goes away soon. It has its merits, but it's the later-day rendition of "Ame no Yatai" that I love so much. Chirpy and upbeat in arrangement, the brassy twang of the electric guitar takes center stage and Batayan's delivery here is more informal, even a little cheeky. It just encapsulates the singer that is Batayan perfectly. Tamaranai (Can't get enough of it), as Takehei from "Osakabe-Takehei Showa no Utagoe" (刑部たけ平の昭和の歌声) would say. I don't really like the rain, but listening to "Ame no Yatai" never fails to brighten the day... I like the second stanza best (,,・ω・,,).
6. Tadaharu Nakano (中野忠晴) -- Yogiri no Minato (夜霧の港) (1932)
Sue wa namida to naru uta naredo(It's end turns to tears; But if it could turn to song)
Semete uta wa nya taeraryouka (At least in song, it becomes more bearable)
Finally, the most recent addition to my list, Mr. Nakano. His funny jazz and suave tango sides are the most appealing to me, but I think his Meiji/Taisho enka side is not something that throw aside either. Mr. Nakano's debut song "Yogiri no Minato" (Harbour in the Night Fog) showcased this and was quite a stark departure from what I'd previously known him for. Yet its carefree and simple melody very quickly latched on to my brain and it's become an earworm ever since. There was just something about the deliberate and hearty yet forlorn way he conveyed the words in that old enka-like style that I really liked... Tamaranai... I've been listening to that podcast way too much. I'd consider this the song that managed to nudge Mr. Nakano into favourites territory.
Hachi, Haru-san, Bin-san, Hai-Katsu, Batayan, Mr. Nakano.
Six of them. Geez, Noelle.
From what I heard from a good friend who's into Japanese pop idols, it seems to be custom to only have oneoshi and be fully dedicated to the one. Well, I've certainly disregarded that, haven't I? To be completely honest, it's hard to give them all the same amount of love, but I love them all the same anyways. I promise (; ﾟ ωﾟ). They're all unique in their own ways, but I've concluded that there are three overarching factors that determine who gets on the list. I actually picked my brain and figured this out when another of my buddies challenged me to explain and discuss this matter analytical paper style some time ago. Breaking down the process and putting it into objective word was admittedly an odd experience. Nevertheless here is how my monke brain works and the determining factors are as follows:
1. I must like his voice very much. A voice good for listening to everyday at any time for prolonged periods, and conveys genuine-sounding emotion.
2. I must like more than four of his songs. Anything less means I only like the song(s), not the singer himself.
3. I must find him physically attractive to some degree. I think this is self-explanatory, but the visual aspect boosts the aural experience.
(Note: I use “he/him” because I only pick male singers as a personal preference.)
Of course, other individual aspects come into play as well and it's more than just these broad factors. But, needless to say, the six fellows check these main, baseline criteria. The simple conclusion: You know fans of K-pop idols or aidoru? That's me, but my oshi are these singers from the Showa 10s to the Showa 30s, but that in no way hinders my oshi katsu (fan activities). If you're in Japan and you ever come across someone taking a photo of a monochrome portrait of/with a dapper man against scenery or whatnot, that person will likely be me...
All that said, I’d say that this year has been one heck of a year when it comes to my foray with enka and kayokyoku. Indeed, I now have six fellows I swoon over. But I feel that in this process, my musical palette has expanded considerably, particularly in the realm of prewar to immediate postwar popular songs. Three-quarters of them are from the prewar generation, after all. This was greatly supplemented by having to actually study the inner-workings of this world for school research via books and whatever material I could get my hands on. There was also coming to enjoy the hilarious yet greatly informative "Osakabe-Takehei Showa no Utagoe" and giving music events a shot. With the exception of gunka and certain gunkoku kayo (personal principle), all these have allowed me to appreciate and enjoy the styles and quirks of the various songwriters and singers from this era I wouldn't usually have. Heck, I went from hating a singer to completely going head-over-heels for him! This year, I feel like I've learned so much, but I know that I have so much more to learn.
As the saying goes, "Uta wa yo ni tsure, yo wa uta ni tsure" (Music will go with the times, the times will go with music). I can say with certainty that this list will change when my taste in music inevitably changes and it'll be interesting to see how it will when it happens. As it is, so much has changed in the past almost ten years. 2014 Noelle who just got into enka would be perturbed by this list.
P.S. This year, I've also had wonderful opportunities to write about and present about some of the artists who are dearest to me, both in academia and mass media. I never thought I'd ever be able to do so, so I've never been more grateful for these chances. As best as I can, I aim to feature more of my fellows in the very near future. My biggest project will showcase the one at the very top of my list. Honestly, it's daunting and I had my doubts in the beginning. But to dedicate my Master's thesis entirely to Kasuga was a major reason for choosing the graduate school path, and so I will do my best to give him the attention he deserves. I'm due to write it next year, which also happens to be his centenary. What are the odds, huh? Hacchan, otaigai ni gambarimashou.
Omae ga nakushita shiawase wa (These hands will surely reclaim)
Kono te de kitto tori kaesu(The happiness you lost)
Motto sugare yo tsumetai yubi da (Just hang on. Those cold hands)
Ore no makoto de atatamete (Will be warmed by my sincerity)
Nidoto nakaseru nidoto nakaseru ashita ni shinai (There won't be a tomorrow where I'll make you sad again)
I've noticed that J-Canuck has been putting out some "Gosanke Imagined" articles featuring potential trios/quartets in the Japanese music world that should/could have been but never were. Naturally, I wanted to hop on that train and bring out some of my imagined Gosanke (御三家) too. The first I will put up is what I'll call the Senzen Polydor Sanba Garasu, or the Prewar Three Ravens of Polydor Records.
Our 3 fellows are Taro Shoji (東海林太郎), Bin Uehara (上原敏), and Yoshio Tabata (田端義夫). This was just as much a fan-picked trio (considering Bin san and Batayan) as it most probably was an actual trio, albeit one not formally named. As the title suggests, they were major stars from Polydor Records, particularly in the late 1930s. I went with calling them ravens since it seemed like the common term used when referring to a trio of male stars back in the early Showa era, like the Sengo Sanba Garasu (戦後三羽烏). As an aside, Polydor was one of the big 5 record companies in the prewar era, along with Victor, Columbia, Teichiku, and King. I think that can help one see the scale of our trio's presence in the pre-WWII music scene.
Shoji was the oldest and first to debut in 1933. This was followed by Uehara, who was 10 years his junior and debuted in 1936. Tabata, the youngest and 11 years Uehara's junior, debuted in 1938. Besides hailing from the same company and reaching stardom in record time, they shared a couple of other commonalities. For one, they all weren't music school graduates and thus not classically trained, the latter being a desired trait among pop singers at the time. Two, their biggest hits from the 1930s were mostly matatabi mono, or songs that featured samurai, ronin, or yakuza. This all the more cemented Polydor Records as the company that prided itself with more Japan-themed songs among its competitors, who leaned a little more towards the Western sound. It was for these reasons that my song selection will feature a matatabi mono from each of our 3 gentlemen. Each of these songs features a different real life yakuza figure who often appear in rokyoku and other traditional Japanese narrative arts.
Taro Shoji -- Akagi no Komori Uta (赤城の子守唄) (1934)
This was Shoji's first smash hit from 1934 and it featured Asataro Itawari (板割浅太郎), a yakuza who took his nephew under his wing after killing his uncle out of duty to his boss, the big wig Chuji Kunisada (国定忠治). Big yikes. Apparently, Shoji himself wasn't familiar with the story often told by the likes of rokyoku stars at the time of recording.
Bin Uehara -- Tsuma Koi Dochu (妻恋道中) (1937)
Ah, yes, dear Bin san. "Tsuma Koi Dochu" was his first hit from 1937. The character featured here was Kira no Nikichi (吉良の仁吉), who went on a mission to kill someone at the orders of his master. The catch was that this someone happened to be his wife's brother. But, duty above compassion, and so Kira leaves his wife to fulfill his mission. Fun fact, it wasn't known if the real Kira was even married, so the narrative that included his wife was simply for drama's sake.
Yoshio Tabata -- Otone Tsukiyo (大利根月夜) (1939)
Osu!
Batayan's foray into matatabi mono probably began with this massive hit, "Otone Tsukiyo" from 1939, which featured the hapless Miki Hirate (平手造酒). I talked about the talented swordsman-turned-yakuza in my article on Haruo Minami's (三波春夫)"Otone Mujou" (大利根無情) some time back, so I won't dwell too much on it. But the grander, more dignified air that Batayan tune exudes seems to highlight Hirate's past glory before his spiral into degeneracy. Most matatabi mono that about real yakuza figures up to this point in the Showa era usually centered around the above mentioned Kunisada, Kira, as well as Shimizu no Jirocho (清水次郎長) and Mori no Ishimatsu (森の石松). But "Otone Tsukiyo" likely set a precedent of having Hirate's tragedy be conveyed in popular song.
To round things off, here's some extra trivia about our trio:
1. Tabata debuted while still a teenager (he was 19 at the time), which was still somewhat of an anomaly for singers at the time. As you may have noticed in the photos above, he also shaved his head when he debuted and I'm not sure why (yet). But it's Batayan, so I'm not surprised by his hijinks anymore. Perhaps he simply wanted to mark the start of a new journey?
2. Shoji and Uehara were both from Akita Prefecture, were both university graduates, and were both white-collared salarymen before they entered the world of music. That's in addition to the aforementioned musical similarities. Let's not forget that they looked vaguely alike, especially with those round glasses. But I heard that Mr. Taro (yes, I'm calling him that from now on) was the joker who loved his Dad jokes while Bin san was the more serious one.
As usual, Kiyomaro Kikuchi's "Showa Enka no Rekishi" was my info source.
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.
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.
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 :')."
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.
It's been a hot minute since I've gone through Batayan's repertoire. And by hot minute, I mean five years. At least. Of course, my all-time favourites were constantly on rotation over the years and that affable greeting of his never gets old. But, another expedition into what more he has on offer was long overdue, and so that's what I've been doing lately.
"Hyotan Jitterbug" is at the 7:00 mark
To reaccustom myself to Yoshio Tabata's (田端義夫) other works, I tuned into one of those long album videos on YouTube as I surfed the 'gram for food ideas. This video turned out to be the very same one I used to love back in the day. In it was nine of the electric guitar-wielding singer's works with a 1960s-swing-style facelift to the melodies, giving them a more contemporary and snazzy sound. Among them, the jubilant "Hyotan Jitterbug" (the latter written as "jiruba") brought back a wave of nostalgia as the tinkling keys of the piano's introduction rang out and its jazzy beat came crashing in. I loved its fun-loving vibe then and I still love it now despite the many-year gap.
The original take
"Hyotan Jitterbug" was a postwar entry in Tabata's discography created by composer Akira Michinoku (陸奥明) and lyricist Shingo Kato (加藤省吾) in 1947. Likely overshadowed by his later solemn hits, this funky ditty mostly stayed relatively under the radar. That said, I've always known Batayan as a pretty versatile artist - I'm convinced he did any genre as long as he could play it on his guitar, so a swing tune like this just felt very him, no questions asked. What's more, in his unique high tone seemed to be a hint of mischief as he played the role of a carefree drifter with, I'm assuming, a dried gourd filled with sake by his side, enjoying life as it comes. Very Batayan indeed.
The video above is an instrumental version of "Hyotan Jiruba". It comes from "Batayan no Guitar Meienshu" (バタヤンのギター名演集), released on 18th February 2015, which features Batayan's beloved electric guitar front and centre.
I would like to personally thank the 100 yen stores for enabling me.
P.S. Ever since I began living on my own, I make it a point to make every house a home. Friends jokingly call it my 'Husbando Shrine' - I insist it's a 'Husbando Shelf'. Either way, it's a must and one of the first things that go up after a move. Priorities, am I right? Recently, I thought I should showcase more bromides, so I've added a couple of fellows to the mix. Since they're the flavours of the season, Batayan and Hai-Katsu have temporarily joined my Big 3. In hindsight, I suppose it was long overdue that I have a Batayan thing displayed. He's been a constant presence since my first foray into ryukoka, after all.
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.
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 justthe 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.
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.
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 ukelele 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??
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.
As of late, J-Canuck has been doing a series featuring the various Gosanke (御三家) trios in Japanese music. His article featuring theEnka Sanba Garasu (演歌三羽烏) did catch my attention since it featured the three enka greats: Hachiro Kasuga (春日八郎), Michiya Mihashi (三橋美智也), and Hideo Murata (村田英雄). It was a little surprising to see that this trio had been given this collective label as I know them as the Sannin no Kai (三人の会). Still, the music industry back in the day did seem to have a thing for labelling a trio of popular male singers as a bunch of ravens/crows. That, then, brought to mind the trio I knew with this very label: Sengo Sanba Garasu (Three Ravens of the Postwar Era).
The Sengo Sanba Garasu include Haruo Oka (岡晴夫), Yoshio Tabata (田端義夫), and Toshiro Omi (近江俊郎). I would argue that they could've also been a Senzen (prewar) Sanba Garasu since they debuted in the 1930s and Okapparu and Batayan had spawned a number of classics in the immediate prewar era. But some of their most recognizable hits did come from the immediate postwar era, including Omi's late breakout single "Yu no Machi Elegy" (湯の町エレジー) from 1948. Those hits seemed to have been a reflection of those living in a devasted nation, encompassing both their sadness and hope in the war's aftermath. With their song, perhaps these ravens served as the harbingers of solace for the many who needed it. Now, if only the crows outside my place sounded as good as these guys.
Y'know, I wonder if there had been a Senzen Sanba Garasu. Even if there wasn't such a trio, I can imagine who'd be the three: Ichiro Fujiyama, Dick Mine, Noboru Kirishima... or Taro Shoji... or Bin Uehara. Okay, the last one may just be favouritism rearing its head.
Well, all things come to an end, and such is the case with the go-touchi series of kayo which began all the way up in the north more than a month ago. Continuing from the Chugoku region and Shikoku last week, it will now come to an end in the south with the southernmost of the four main islands of Japan, Kyushu, and then Okinawa. Once again, the regional songs here are just the tip of a really large iceberg, and I hope that you can find some other famous go-touchi songs not just for these territories but for the others that have been covered over the past several weeks. The island of Kyushu consists of Fukuoka, Kumamoto, Nagasaki, Oita, Saga, Kagoshima and Miyazaki Prefectures.
1. Fuyumi Sakamoto -- Abaredaiko (あばれ太鼓) for the Kokura district in Kita-Kyushu City (1987)
2. Nyc Nyusa -- Sachiko（サチコ）for Fukuoka City (1981)
4. Saburo Kitajima -- Satsuma no Hito（薩摩の女）for Kagoshima City (1968)
5. Yoshio Tabata -- Shima Sodachi (島育ち) for Amami-Oshima in Kagoshima Prefecture (1962)
6. Shoukichi Kina -- Haisai Ojisan（ハイサイおじさん）for Okinawa (1972)
Here's one final look at some of the delectable dishes from the area. This final time, we have toruko rice（トルコライス）from Nagasaki and then goya champuru（ゴーヤチャンプル）in Okinawa.
Heard this one last weekend on NHK's "Songs of Japanese Spirit" and I later found out that the original version of this song was by the late great Yoshio Tabata（田端義夫）.
I think this particular version up here is a later recording of "Furusato no Toudai" (The Lighthouse of Home), I wasn't able to find the original recording which was released in July 1953. Still, Tabata and his characteristic guitar give an emotional performance about memories of the old hometown and the family by the ocean with the titular lighthouse as the main landmark. It would have been nice to have compared this version which sounds so epic and clean with the original take. My impression is that the original would have sounded more rustic and closer to that home because of the arrangements back then and of course the age of the record itself.
Tabata had a couple of old colleagues help him out here. Lyricist Minoru Shimizu（清水みのる）, who had written "Shima no Funauta"（島の船唄）for him in 1939, and composer Yoshiji Nagatsu (長津義司), who had come up with the melody for Tabata's "Otone Tsukiyo" (大利根月夜) in that same year, joined forces to help create "Furusato no Toudai".
Some two decades later in 1973, Hachiro Kasuga（春日八郎）covered "Furusato no Toudai" in his own venerable voice for his album "Kasuga Hachiro Enka Hyakusen"（春日八郎 演歌百選...Hachiro Kasuga's Enka Selections）. After listening to this cover and Tabata's version, I found that both were fine renditions but I'll leave the comparisons to any discussion between myself and Noelle Tham, who I believe is the resident expert at KKP on all things Tabata and Kasuga. 😉
Looking the recent editions to my YouTube "Liked Videos" playlist, I noticed a little first in all my years of music excavation: I'd actually liked 3 videos with the same song in a row. I know, I know, this hat trick is rather frivolous, but it was for a song I'd never heard of until very recently by an artiste who occasionally pops up on my radar. This song is "Hatoba Katagi" by Bin Uehara (上原敏).
Now, I was made aware of the very preppy, 1920s/1930s salaryman-like Uehara via the duet "Uramachi Jinsei" (裏町人生) with Michiko Yuki (結城道子). I love that song very much, and Uehara stuck in my mind as the Akita dude who made using minyo vocal techniques while singing ryukoka a thing and one of the many unfortunate casualties of the Pacific War, but I never really thought of sampling more of his discography that's speckled with a respectable number of evergreen hits. And then, one day I was listening to a video compilation of some of Hachiro Kasuga's pre and post war classics, "Uramachi Jinsei" included, and that was when I stumbled upon "Hatoba Katagi". Granted, I was half asleep while it played in my ears - I think I was resting before my last class of the day - but I recalled taking to the jaunty melody and effortless way Hachi nailed the vocal acrobatics the song demanded.
"Hatoba Katagi" starts at the 19:02 mark. The one before is "Uramachi Jinsei", if you're keen.
Some research later revealed that Uehara was also behind "Hatoba Katagi", at which point the extent of vocal acrobatics needed for the tune made sense. In listening to the Bin-san's original recording from 1938, his more deliberate manner of warbling gives a slight rusticity to this sailor/port-harbour song. The music arrangement also sounded more oriental with the plucking of an instrument that sounds more like a banjo than a guitar and the bit after the second stanza when the lonely violin kicks in temporarily, which was an interesting touch by composer Keio Iida (飯田景応).
An oriental-tinged hatoba number piqued my interest, and so did its gender-swapped roles in the lyrics. As far as I know, such a song topic would involve a woman seeing off her sailor lover and she'd be the one shedding tears while the sailor puts up a strong front. However, Kinya Shimada (島田磬也) seemed to have written the opposite, I believe: It's the woman who's going to set sail to a destination unknown to us, and the man who's come to see her off as promised, even if he has to do so with watery eyes. This made me wonder about how such a premise could've come about.
Considering the time period of "Hatoba Katagi" (the 1930s), many Japanese folks headed out of the economically struggling mainland in hopes of finding a better life elsewhere (the West, or the colonies). So, methinks the woman could've been whisked away to a foreign country (or minimally to a far-off part of Japan) by her family for just that, and her poor man, perhaps with his own familial obligations, has to stay behind... Of course, this is but speculation on the part of my interpretation of Bin-san's song (yes, I've decided to called him by his nickname from now on).
Aside from Hachi's version which was first released in 1971 via the album "Showa no Enka" (昭和の艶歌), the third version I had unwittingly added to my list was Yoshio Tabata's (田端義夫). For one, Batayan's the man for madorosu tunes, so him doing a cover of "Hatoba Katagi" was to be expected. The musical arrangement is truer to Bin-san's one, just that you can hear the notes from Batayan's signature electric guitar. I'm not exactly sure when it was recorded, but an album where it can be found is in "Batayan! Funauta wo Utau" (バタヤン!船歌を歌う) from 2013; I reckon it could've originally been recorded in the 60s or 70s, though.
And thus, I'd like to welcome "Hatoba Katagi" to the circle of pre/post war songs that play in my head incessantly. For some reason, ryukoka from that time are particularly catchy to me.
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