A Life Adrift: Soeda Azembō, Popular Song, and Modern Mass Culture in Japan (review)

Those familiar with today's stereotyped, mass-produced enka may find it almost impossible to imagine that in the past this genre of popular song valued politics over tears. Indeed, the majority of present-day Japanese, whether they love or detest the hackneyed melodies and maudlin lyrics typical of enka, remain unaware of the drastic transformation the genre has experienced over the last century. Most enka fans, usually middle-aged and elderly members of the working class, associate these songs with visions of lonely, tipsy men stumbling down the street at night, or with snowy scenes at distant harbors where jilted women wait for ferries to take them home. Only a century ago enka would have been far more likely to conjure up images of activism, war heroes, and dynamite.

Michael Lewis's translation of the memoirs of Soeda Azenbō (1872–1944), the premier enka lyricist and performer of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, presents a vibrant account of the world of enka during an age in which it was still new and thriving. Engaging, well translated, and replete with countless song texts composed by Azenbō and others, the book ushers the reader into a world of popular culture radically different from the current commercial music industry, steered by giant corporate conglomerates. A helpful introduction and copious notes provide socio-historical context and debunk the fables Azenbō sought to create for himself. This study constitutes a significant contribution to our knowledge of prewar Japanese culture and is likely to change most readers' image of enka and prewar Japanese popular music.

The roots of enka can be traced to chants, supposedly more shouted than sung, created and performed by early Meiji activists (sōshi). This period of enka did not last long, for after the promulgation of the Meiji constitution and the establishment of a national Diet, the Freedom and People's Rights movement that had inflamed the imagination of the sōshi found itself in a rapid decline. Newer enka thus shifted their themes in the direction of romance and urban woes. These songs were often performed by self-styled "students" wailing their creations on street corners, usually while peddling hastily produced chapbooks or flyers of lyrics. Soon thereafter, as Japan prepared for war—against the Chinese and in turn the Russians—song texts lurched toward the right and embraced blatantly militaristic themes. Nevertheless, some enka texts continued to feature social critique and satire, not necessarily because the writers and singers were socialists (though some, including Azenbō, were), but because topical songs, whether critical or humorous, were likely to sell.

As enka singing changed from bellowing and sloganeering to more melodious styles of delivery, street singers ceased being content to perform unaccompanied. During the late Meiji and early Taishō years street performers could no longer hope to survive by barking dramatically inflected words of dissent. Instead, they took up the violin to accompany themselves more lyrically, or wandered the streets with a comrade who played the shakuhachi. By the 1920s performers were struggling to keep up with the challenges posed by phonograph records, imported genres, and then the radio. The new and rapidly developing music industry valued what was slick and easily consumable (and disposable) over what stirred political passions. Soon enough ensembles with guitars, piano, and other Western musical instruments became the standard backup for a genre evolving in a direction few would have predicted half a century earlier.

Azenbō penned and published his memoir A Life Adrift during the wartime years. This fact, as Lewis points out, raises red flags of caution regarding matters of veracity, self-editing, and emphasis. In 1940 writing that did not openly support the government-approved goals of military supremacy and sociocultural unity was unlikely to get by the censor. Azenbō, in part to immunize himself from the open secret of his socialist past, and in part as a way of supporting some abstract concept...