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.
It was about a dozen years ago that I put up my first Pocket Biscuits（ポケットビスケッツ）article onto "Kayo Kyoku Plus", and it happened to be the synthy and upbeat "Yellow Yellow Happy". It was also where I discovered that the squeaky-voiced tarento Chiaki (千秋) could actually sing her way onto a CD.
Well, commenter and occasional contributor Fireminer reminded me of another single by Pokebi（ポケビ）that was their third from January 1997 and another successful hit, to boot. "Red Angel", which was also created by the band and Pappara Kawai（パッパラー河合）, the lead guitarist from Bakufu Slump, has more of a sinister rock edge with a percolating synth-drum rhythm. And with the band in darker outfits and the more nihilistic lyrics, I could say that it almost earns the extra Label of Halloween.
Becoming another million-seller like their later hit "POWER", it reached No. 2 on Oricon and became the 12th-ranked single of 1997. "Red Angel" is also available on Pocket Biscuits' first album"Colorful" which was released in July 1997 and hit No. 3 on the album charts. One piece of trivia that I picked up on the song via J-Wiki is that the members of the group were discussing about where to film the outdoor shots of the music video. Chiaki had thought about either New York or London while bandmate Teruyoshi Uchimura（内村光良）had suggested Macao or Nikko. Macao won out.
In all the kerfuffle of putting up my Author's Pick on Tanabata yesterday, I was also informed that July 7th 2025 was World Chocolate Day because it was apparently the day that chocolate had been introduced to Europe in the 16th century. Now, I don't quite consider myself a chocoholic anymore but I still like the sweet stuff whether it be in cookies, bars, drinks and the like. I've had chocolate beer and chocolate-covered potato chips as the more extreme examples but I'm perfectly at home munching down a Hershey's Kiss or a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup (covered in chocolate, of course).
As such, although I'm a day late, I would like to commemorate World Chocolate Day with some of my own chocolate concoctions whether they be located in the song title or the artist name.
Well, continuing on with the Tanabata theme that started with the epic Author's Pick in the previous article, I was thinking about another artist. I was wondering whether the good folks at Nash Music Library had come up with a Tanabata-themed song because they seem to have covered all the bases in terms of music for different situations.
And I needn't have worried. Sure enough, NML came up with "Tanabata" in 2022 as part of their "File Supply Vol.10". Usually, the music makers have created short but sweet instrumentals but this time, "Tanabata" is a full ballad at over four minutes with what sounds like a classically-trained vocalist perhaps singing wistfully about the travails of Orihime and Hikoboshi. It feels otherworldly and old-worldly and somewhat timeless, so I was left thinking that this could have made for an ideal song for an isekai anime.
It is (or was in Japan) July 7th 2025 which means another day to celebrate Tanabata, commemorating the star-crossed lovers Orihime and Hikoboshi. This year, though, is particularly auspicious because July 7th is falling in the 7th year of Reiwa (another way of saying 2025 in Japan) and so people noticing that it is the 7th day of the 7th month in the 7th year, much hay has been made out of it. For example, couples have been flooding their local city halls to register their marriages today and in a lot of supermarkets, some products have been priced at 777 yen.
Now, I've done my commemorating of the holiday sometimes on "Kayo Kyoku Plus" for specific songs in the past, but this time, I've decided to become a little more ambitious by applying a few gimmicks to this Author's Pick.
First off, let's provide three songs that have something to do with the number 7.
(1967) The Echoes and The Misuzu Children's Choral Group -- Theme from Ultra Seven （ウルトラセブンの歌）
Having hung around staunch Hachiro Kasuga (春日八郎) fans and overheard opinions from Michiya Mihashi (三橋美智也) fans, it seems that while there are folks who embrace both of the twin pillars of King Records' golden era (1950s) equally, there are others who are quite clearly either Team Hachi or Team Michi for one reason or the other. I don't know how clean this division actually is, or how intense the fan rivalry is. The current Hachi and Michi posthumous fan clubs often collaborate in this era where early Showa artists are fading into obscurity and dwindling membership. So, on an official fan club level, at least, it's fairly harmonious. But I wonder if that wasn't necessarily the case in between the 1950s and 1990s. What if it was like the classic Hiroshi Itsuki (五木ひろし) and Shinichi Mori (森進一) fan rivalry? Now, that one was intense.
As you may have known by now, I am Team Hachi. But with the added nuance that I still enjoy Michi stuff on occasion and acknowledge that the min'yo star has strengths that my Hachi lacks. Recently, I've picked up a Michi biography literally titled Mihashi Michiya (2015) by Michi scholar Hiroshi Ogino (荻野広). Admittedly, my main prerogative for doing so was research, but I figured that it was high time I set aside my biases and learn more about the man who was closely associated with Hachi. After all, before Hachiro Kasuga stole the show, I was mesmerized with Michiya Mihashi.
I say "biography", but half of Ogino's piece may as well have been a research paper with its fairly in-depth Michi song analysis. To understand Michi's success, Ogino did a lyric comparison between Michi's tunes and hit Showa kayo against the backdrop of Showa era history. I love stuff like this, so it was an insightful read. He featured both the min'yo man's greatest hits and shone the spotlight on countless gems buried by the sands of time, giving them the attention they deserve or at least an acknowledgement of their existence. As someone who tried doing this in her Hachi thesis, I can only say that Ogino must care greatly for Michi. Ogino also provided Michi's full discography as an appendix, which I happily scanned through and investigated entries that piqued my interest, of which there were several.
I completely forgot that Michi's disco phase (late 1970s) churned out the disco version of Tassha de na (達者でナ), renamed Bye Bye Horse; I didn't know he had something that may as well have been a theme song to a cowboy flick, Tokyo no Hato (東京の鳩... Tokyo Pigeon/Dove), or had an ominously moody tune that began with a pained, "BAKAYAROOOOOO" (Ganpeki no Otoko (岸壁の男)... Man by the Cliff). I always make it a point to say that Hachi was a singer who could sing anything, but I failed to realise that Michi was actually not that different in this respect. My apologies, Michi. Considering how Mihashi's stylistic range was far wider than I had once thought, though, a rock kayo shouldn't have surprised me, yet Cho-cho to Kakashi (The Scarecrow and the Butterfly) had me raising my eyebrows.
Cho-cho to Kakashi was released on March 1970 as the B-side to Kimi Yobu Machi (君呼ぶ街). Its lyrics were written by Hiroshi Nagai (永井ひろし), and was composed by Tadaharu Nakano (中野忠晴) ... ... ... ... Okay, you caught me - this was the reason I looked up this song. But, you see, Nakano had passed away in February that year, so this makes this tune the last piece Nakano wrote for Michi, released posthumously (so, of course I'd want to hear it). Mr. Nakano composed way more for Michi than Hachi - over 40 Michi entries, as opposed to about 20 Hachi ones. The few I've heard up till then (the hits) sounded "Michi-like", wherein despite Nakano's main arranger Masao Ueno's (上野正雄) funky arrangements, they still felt like they followed Michi's min'yo vocal contours fairly closely. Therefore, that's what I expected with Cho-cho to Kakashi.
To me, just the title itself seemed to suggest that it could be a more traditional Japanese-sounding piece - it even had me in the first couple of seconds with the hyoshigi (wooden clappers), something I'd hear in kabuki-themed tunes. Instead, Nakano made a fun rock-inspired melody, the metallic twang of the electric guitars strumming to the brisk beat of hollow bongos has echoes of the ereki and GS booms of the mid-to-late 1960s. It feels kinda Beach Boys-esque (I think?), and for some reason, also reminiscent of those quirky anime openings from the late 2000s. Michi sang it in such a breezy manner that I couldn't imagine anyone else singing it.
Now, what is Michi singing about in Cho-cho to Kakashi? Nagai's narrative introduces the titular butterfly and scarecrow. The butterfly has took off to the city... by train. The scarecrow wants to follow, but is stuck (in the fields), having but one leg. And so, it can only stand by its lonesome near the train station. Days go by, and it eventually grows weary and despondent with no sound or sight of the butterfly, but continues to wait. I think it's safe to say that Nagai's scarecrow is an allegory for a countryside folk who, for one reason or another, is unable to follow their beloved, the butterfly, who left for the city for one reason or another. A classic example of the bokyo kayo variant, a zanryu mono, to borrow bokyo kayo researcher Hidetada Fuji's (藤井淑禎) terminology.
Meaning songs of those "left behind", zanryu mono focus on the family, lovers, friends, etc. of those who left the countryside for the cities for work during the postwar mass employment movement (approx. 1954-1973). Usually depicted are their pining for those who'd left, hoping they'd soon return, or bitter because they had left. This (sub)genre experienced peak popularity in the late 1950s when urban migration was going strong and aforementioned scenes were commonplace. Michi seemed to have been best known for these zanryu mono type stuff, sometimes called furusatomono/kayo. Oddly enough, Hachi was known best for the reverse, shukkyo mono (songs of those who left).
While this work-induced urban migration slowed by the 1970s (due to several reasons including factories opening plants in the countryside), it still occurred. By this point, it was usually farmers from Tohoku who temporarily left their homes during winter to eek out a living since agriculture was not an option with heavy snowfall. Also, I'm fairly sure there were an even greater number of youngsters who wanted to escape to the glamourous cities. So, I can see why the bokyo kayo themes from days of yore still pop up at this time. Also, there's the whole "bokyo kayo is a main strand of enka" thing which gained great traction in the 70s, which may have enabled something like Cho-cho to Kakashi to still be produced in the 70s.
I'm glad I read Ogino's Michi biography. Hachi will always still be the superior one in my heart, but my appreciation for Michi has grown tremendously after the read. I think I'm finally ready for that trip to Hakodate.
P.S. Just so you know, Tokyo no Hato and Ganpeki no Otoko were also Nakano compositions. Yes, I was sifting through the Michi discography for everything Nakano-related. It's most effective way to get me to listen to stuff I ordinarily wouldn't listen to, okay!
I remember that one statement by one of the Southern All Stars（サザンオールスターズ）. I forgot who it was...maybe it was leader Keisuke Kuwata（桑田佳祐）himself who once declared that if a song didn't have any sex in it, it really wasn't a song. Or at the very least, it wasn't an SAS song.
Well, then, I have an SAS song for you. To be specific, this is their 17th single from March 1983, "Body Special II", a raunchy rock n' roller that was written and composed by Kuwata with some additional arranging assistance from Ichiro Nitta（新田一郎）. Considering the lyrics of hot and heavy stuff going on, any purchaser of the original single would probably have wondered whether there were any existential lip or tongue marks on the cover. Even the cover itself didn't hide any signs of lasciviousness: the photo is of a well-endowed topless woman. According to a 2020 issue of "Shuukan Bunshun"（週刊文春）via J-Wiki, Kuwata now even admits that the cover was perhaps a step too far. Still with any probable torches and pitchforks thrown from the nation's PTAs aside, "Body Special II" was another hit for the band as it scored a No. 10 ranking and an eventual No. 37 ranking for 1983.
Yesterday, I covered aidoru Hiroko Mita's（三田寛子）August 1984 B-side song"Hatachi no Mae de"（20才の前で）which had a pretty lush arrangement in my estimation.
Well, I have another aidoru's B-side song from 1984, and by the way, welcome to KKP, Sayuri Iwai（岩井小百合）! The native of Kanagawa Prefecture had a relatively brief time as an 80s teenybopper singer with a total of 12 singles ranging from 1983 to 1987 with 4 original albums. That B-side, "Tokimeki no Kisetsu" (Season of Excitement), was on the flip side to her March 1984 6th single"Soushun Memory"（早春メモリー...Early Spring Memory）, and it's one of the conventional types of aidoru tune with that gently lilting 50s love song style as Iwai swoons over falling in love for the first time. The lyricist and composer were Mieko Arima（有馬三恵子）and Kisaburo Suzuki（鈴木キサブロー） respectively.
Although Iwai's time as an aidoru was short, she's been able to continue to work in the entertainment industry for many years in roles including information variety reporter, pachinko parlour aidoru and thespian.
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