Michiya Mihashi -- Cho-cho to Kakashi (蝶々とかかし)

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 furusato mono/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!