While the rock'n'roll era, dance bands, country and the blues have been the subject of detailed and analytical histories, the 1890s, those formative years of music-recording, still await adequate and rigorous scrutiny. The standard (and only) history of the recording process remains Roland Gelatt's The Fabulous Phonograph, whose first edition appeared in 1955. But while Gelatt's foreword promisingly notes that ‘the history of the phonograph is at once the history of an invention, an industry and a musical instrument’, his book seldom rises above a journalistic narrative. It is also marred by an ill-concealed bias towards the classical repertoire and against popular musics.

What was the first Japanese pop hit? The answer will vary according to definition, but undoubtedly come from one of the following five songs:

(1) ‘Kachûsha no Uta’ (Kachusha's Song): first sung on stage by Matsui Sumako in March 1914; words by Shimamura Hôgetsu and Sôma Gyofû, music by Nakayama Shimpei; recorded by Matsui for Orient Records under the title of ‘Fukkatsu Shôka.

(2) ‘Sendô Kouta’ (A Boatman's Ditty): released in sheet music form in March 1921; words by Noguchi Ujō, music by Nakayama Shimpei.

(3) ‘Habu no Minato’ (The Harbour of Habu): written in 1923; words by Noguchi Ujô, music by Nakayama Shimpei; originally recorded by Satô Chiyako for Victor Records in April 1928.

(4) ‘Kimi Koishi’ (You, Sweetheart): written in 1928; words by Shiguré Otowa, music by Sasa Kôka; originally recorded by Futamura Tei'ichi for Victor Records in December 1928.

(5) ‘Tokyo Kôshin-kyoku’ (Tokyo March): written in 1929; words by Saijô Yaso, music by Nakayama Shimpei; originally sung by Satô Chiyako for Victor Records in June 1929.

By looking at how these five songs were put together and became hits, we may be able to understand the origins of the professional song writer in Japan and the early growth of the domestic recording industry.

‘And this, after all, we do know with certainty: that in the 1880s in and around New Orleans and in other parts of the South, they were beginning to play the music we call jazz.’ So wrote Barry Ulanov who was convinced that jazz ‘reached back to the twelve bar form of the folk tune … and evolved that most durable and most thoroughly adaptable of jazz forms, the blues’. Picked out by ‘men and women in the backwoods and the front parlors making the delicate little changes, insisting upon the famous “blue notes”’, it took shape ‘long before the famous early names of jazz – before Buddy Bolden and Freddie Keppard and Papa Laine’ (Ulanov 1958a, p. 17). Ulanov was writing in 1957, more than thirty years closer to the origins of jazz, when a number of the veteran musicians of the first and second generations were still living. His ‘certainty’ implied that the blues was the wellspring of jazz from which it drew its inspiration and its improvisation.

The explosive development of a jazz-band tradition in South African cities from the 1920s – closely allied to the equally rapid maturation of a vaudeville tradition which has been in existence at least since the First World War – is one of the most astonishing features of urban-black culture in that country in the first half of the century. Surrounded by myriad other musics – styles forged by migrant workers; traditional styles transplanted from the countryside to the mines; petty bourgeois choral song; music of the church and of western-classical provenance – jazz and vaudeville quickly established themselves as the music which represented and articulated the hopes and aspirations of the most deeply urbanised sectors of the African working class.

It is a common argument by now that the modern mass media and the music they disseminate have been ‘used by economically and politically powerful interests within the state to support the capitalist relations of production and to legitimise the social, economic and political organisation of society’ (Tomaselli et al. 1986, p. 19). Criticism directed more specifically at radio has focused chiefly on capitalist societies in which there are multiple channels of entertainment and information. A recent issue of the present journal devoted to radio, for instance, was concerned only with the UK, Canada, and the USA (Popular Music, 9/2, 1990). Little critical attention has been focused on the use of radio to ‘legitimise the social, economic and political organisation of society’ in countries in which the state assumes full control over programming and transmission.

This paper presents an analysis of enka, a type of Japanese popular song. I shall attempt to elucidate the musical characteristics of enka by examining its musical scales, melodies, vocal techniques and rhythms. We shall see, however, that enka is a composite genre, not characterised by a single type of scale or rhythm. Furthermore, it is virtually impossible to understand enka without reference to other types of Japanese popular song. Thus some discussion of such other genres will also be required.

The purpose here is at once simple and complex – to show that both academic and popular perceptions of the origins of jazz are wide of the mark, though still sustained by both scholarly and musical communities. On a very general level jazz is construed as a quintessentially Afro—American music form that originated in widely disparate locales across the United States at roughly the same time, and perhaps the only indigenous American art form of world significance. My purpose is not to challenge this vague characterisation in all its particulars, but to elaborate upon a query occasionally broached in social history, namely – what kind of society could have produced the phenomenon of pre-recorded jazz music? I shall suggest that in its early stages, during the late nineteenth century, jazz could not be accurately characterised as even ‘American’.

In 1959, the Conlon report, a presentation of United States government policies in relation to Asian cultures, stated the following about Japanese culture (in a section titled ‘Social change’):

Developments within and among the various Japanese social classes suggest the dynamic, changing quality of modern Japan … No area of Japan, moreover, is beyond the range of the national publications, radio, and even TV. New ideas can be quickly and thoroughly disseminated; it is in this sense that Japanese culture can become more standardised even as it is changing. Many of the changes look in the direction of the United States; in such diverse fields as gadgets, popular music, and fashions. American influence is widespread. And this is but one evidence of the general desire to move away from the spartan, austere past toward a more comfortable, convenient future.

Although known as the ‘Naughty Nineties’, the last years of the nineteenth century are characterised by a succession of anti-liberal backlashes most notoriously including the Vizetelly prosecution of 1889 (principally involving Emile Zola's novels), Oscar Wilde's trials of 1895 (indirectly about homosexuality) and the pillorying of feminist reformers. Instead of becoming more sexually permissive, the English fin de siècle was in many respects deeply conservative, not only in bureaucratic responses to these sexual controversies but also in the creation of political organisations to represent and lobby for conventional moral values. Social purity campaigners' efforts to eradicate indecency in music-hall performance fits into this pattern, and provides insight into the continuity between the class politics of leisure reforms, control of artistic production and hegemonic sexual mores.

It is frequently claimed that cultural processes in South Asia are best understood as being informed by an ethos of ‘Unity in Diversity’. The same cannot be said for culture as it has been, and still is, experienced by Indian South Africans. Far from being the homogeneous group to which apartheid South Africa relegated Indian South Africans in 1948 for the purposes of political control, the ‘Community’, as it is euphemistically called by politicians of all kinds, is plagued by sectarianism and conflict. This contest engages individuals and genuine communities who are seeking to establish a freely chosen identity, economic stability and political status.

Since the early 1970s the advent of cassette technology has had a profound effect on music industries worldwide. This influence has been particularly marked in the developing world, where cassettes have largely replaced vinyl records and have extended their impact into regions, classes and genres previously uninfluenced by the mass media. Cassettes have served to decentralise and democratise both production and consumption, thereby counterbalancing the previous tendency toward oligopolisation of international commercial recording industries.

In the early 1970s, in the American Island State of Hawaii, popular music began a transformation that was, to some extent, similar in form to what occurred on the American mainland ten to fifteen years earlier, when popular music first merged with the civil rights movement and then with the anti-Vietnam movement. Hawaiian popular musicians, reacting to the commercially slick music of the tourist trade and the Wai Ki Ki nightclubs, reached back to embrace the few ethnic artists still alive and performing. They searched their island past for traditional material and, as the movement consolidated, merged this material with their own pressing social and cultural concerns to create a new type of music – part contemporary, part traditional and all wrapped in a cloak of strong social protest against non-native Hawaiians who they saw as having nearly totally destroyed their culture, their selfidentity, their pride and their sacred land. As Haunai-Kay Trask (1982, p. C2), a spokesperson for the movement, put it:

Any society that has experienced the kind of impact the Hawaiian culture and Hawaiian people have experienced wind up being on the bottom because they are inundated with another culture … High rises, fancy clothes, and freeways – that's what United States culture stands for. It's grotesque. They have no feeling for the fragility of life. Or flora or fauna. Part of me hates the haoles with a passion, but part of me doesn't care. They're just stupid and I want them to stay away.

It has been a long time since Japan was first considered an economic power. Japanese automobile, electronic and computer companies have entered the world market and are now competing fiercely with each other. Their financial power and technologies are focused both domestically and overseas, and their launch into culture through advertising strategies is another facet of that power which has emerged since the 1980s (Un'no 1990).

In descriptions of the scale of the Japanese record industry, the most used source is the production data published by the Japan Phonograph Record Association (JPRA). Twenty-five major record companies in Japan are affiliated with this association (as of July 1990). Every month, each affiliated record company reports to the JPRA their production figures (total number of all records produced) and the wholesale revenues for themselves and the non-affiliated record companies who entrusted them with their production. These non-affiliated companies are called ‘outsiders’.

Over the course of the past several years the use of digital audio-sampling by composers, musicians, engineers and producers has increased to a point where the sampler is now as common in the recording studio as the microphone. Digital samplers allow one to encode a fragment of sound, from one to several seconds in duration, in a digitised binary form which can then be stored in computer memory. This stored sound may be played back through a keyboard, with its pitch and tonal qualities accurately reproduced or, as is often the case, manipulated through electronic editing. Because of its unsurpassed mimetic capabilities, one common use of the sampler has been to store in computer memory a note or set of notes played by an individual who has a unique playing style. When played back through a keyboard, one could construct an entire solo line which would potentially sound as if that person were playing it. Another common use of the sampler is to extract a fragment of sound from one context and place it in a new one, with no appreciable loss of sound quality over each generation of extraction and repositioning. These three capabilities of the sampler – the mimetic/reproductive, the manipulative and the extractive – are crucial to understanding both the sampler's popularity and its potential to disrupt the production process in the music industry.