When looking at musical studies, I’m particularly interested in a Japanese genre called Enka. Enka was made in the 1970s/80s yet imitates traditionally through the use of traditional instruments and vocal techniques. In reality it’s a mixture of the modern and traditional, but it is consumed as authentic traditionality. In my SP23 class, ‘Pop Music Revolutionaries in Modern Japan,’ I explored the concept of Enka more deeply by comparing it to an earlier, more american style of popular music, ‘boogie woogie.’
The National Imaginings of Japan
The ways in which Japan imagined itself underwent massive shifts from the 1950s to the 1980s, and one way this evolution can be tracked is through music. The popular music of a time-period serves to inform us about both the political and social climate of that era—we can see what kinds of images were circulating, what stories people wanted to tell. By comparing, for example, the post-war boogie-woogie boom of singers like Kasagi Shizuko and Chiemi Eri with the rise of the more ‘traditional-sounding’ Enka and their stars like Ishikawa Sayuri and the undisputed queen of Enka Misora Hibari in the 1970s and 1980s, we gain a clearer picture of the shift in narrative of the national self-image the Japanese population had. These periods also illustrate the looming specter of gender in Japanese popular music. As Micheal Bourdaghs, prominent ethnomusicologist, mentions in his chapter Mapping Misora Hibari, female performers were given the weighty task of embodying Japan—whether representing a Japan of the 1950s under heavy American influence, or a Japan of the 1980s trying to break away and define itself as something quintessentially ‘Japanese.’
The post-war era used music as a tool to convey the story of the US-Japan relations. Specifically, young, female, Japanese singers were used as conduits to demonstrate a friendship and promote the new, “softer image” of Japan. This ‘friendship,’ however, was never horizontal. Japan—embodied by the singers—was placed in a subservient position to the larger, more dominant, United States. The language used in an obituary to the “little girl with a voice that moved millions” Chiemi Eri in the Stars and Stripes demonstrates this vertical relationship through descriptions of Chiemi and her American fans. Author Hal Drake praises Chiemi because she “hadn’t forgotten where her first applause came from” and never left behind the Americans who, he asserts, started her career. This article presents an image of Chiemi that supports and is grateful to America. Chiemi Eri, and by extension Japan itself, is placed in a feminine, desirable, and accessible position beneath the US which is suddenly a teacher, offering benevolent guidance to these ‘cute little girls’ and showing them the proper American way; praising them when they imitate America well through their “better-than-passable English.” Kasagi Shizuko and other boogie-woogie artists made music that sounded undoubtedly foreign and embodied a Japan that had an “intimate relationship with the occupying power.” There seemed to be a real concern rising over the “infiltration of Americanness into the everyday life of the metropolis.” This fear over Japan’s weakening cultural sovereignty helps explain why Enka, and its unabashed ‘Japanese-ness’, had such prominence in the popular music scene just a short time later.
Enka, despite being a relatively new development, is widely regarded as an authentically traditional Japanese form of musical expression. Enka is characterized by unari— a style of vocalization in which the singer employs an exaggerated vibrato to create a sobbing effect. Enka songs usually highlight a sorrow and sentimentality that is tied to notions of Japanese identity. Despite being seen as traditionally Japanese, Enka uses both Western and Japanese instruments in its pieces, and you’ll often hear slap bases in tandem with bamboo flutes. This emphasis on an essentialized Japanese culture is a complete departure from earlier boogie-woogie fever. At first glance it may seem like a jarring and sudden transition, but their relationship is intertwined. As Bourdaghs mentions, in the wake of WWII Japan lost its geo-political sovereignty to America. With the construction of army bases and the ANPO treaty continuing an unofficial US occupation, it became increasingly important for Japan to reclaim its cultural sovereignty and with it, an understanding of who they were. The late 1960s and 1970s, Yano argues, repeatedly asked one question: “who are we Japanese?” Enka provided an answer to that question. No longer could singers imitate the American style; Enka brought with it notions of an authentic Japanese spirit that would capture the hearts of Japanese listeners and provide them with cultural security in a world where they were politically powerless.
The task of embodying a cultural essence often falls on the bodies of women, and Enka is no exception. Female Enka performers are often clad in kimono and give carefully practiced performances. Ishikawa Sayuri’s 1980s televised performance of Amagi-goe demonstrates this polished, invented culture perfectly. She is in traditional clothing and standing stationery during the performance, but moves her hands and upper body gracefully in a practiced choreographed fashion. She masterfully employs facial expressions to emphasize the passion of the song, and reaches her hand out almost as if she is seeing something beyond the audience. Yano calls these strategic techniques kata and the kata of womanhood used here serves to emphasize this essentialized Japanese identity that is made to appear timeless but is a new invention. Just like with the female boogie-woogie singers, Ishikawa is a conduit by which this identity is established and circulated.
Both boogie-woogie singers like Kasagi Shizuko and Enka singers like Ishikawa Sayuri are used to embody ideas of the nation, although on opposite poles. As scholar Harry Harootunian would say, Kasagi represents an ‘America’s Japan’ while Ishikawa embodies a ‘Japan’s Japan.’ However it’s important to note that while the women are on the front lines, the behind-the-scenes work is all performed by men. Neither Kasagi nor Ishikawa wrote their own music. Ishikawa did not choreograph her performances or choose her costumes; these decisions were made by men. So while women represent the nation, men decide how the nation is represented.
By viewing Enka in tandem with the post-war popular music scene, we come to understand not only the ways in which the national imaginings of Japan have shifted, but the role women play in representing the nation. Despite the different time periods, the role women play remains largely unchanged, although the message conveyed through them varies significantly. Indeed it shows that despite the evolving political, social, and cultural climate of the decades, women remain key figures by which imaginings of this abstract notion of the nation are created and maintained.
