Michiya Mihashi -- Muteki (霧笛)

Hello! It's hard to believe that we're in February already. I hope this new year's been going well for you guys.

I, though, didn't have the best start to 2026. I'd come down with a horrendous case of the flu since New Year's day. Perhaps it was all the residue fatigue from 2024 and stressors of 2025 compounded with a particularly serious flu season this winter, but I was put out of commission for almost two weeks. My sinuses were the main source of grief; that in turn caused my ears to become rather sensitive, so much so that I couldn't stomach listening to music. The dynamic rhythms and the emotive voices of the singers I ordinarily listened to caused me discomfort. That's saying a lot, because I can't remember a day where I didn't listened to a single song. It was two kayo-less days before I finally had the desire to listen to something. This song was Michiya Mihashi's (三橋美智也) Muteki (Fog whistle). 

Yes, only Muteki. 

Muteki is an 80's enka written by prolific lyricist Hiroshi Yokoi (横井弘) and composed by Toshiyo Kamata (鎌多俊与). According to the J-Wiki, it first surfaced in Michi’s 1982 album, Furusato Zessho (ふるさと絶唱), before being sold as a single in December 1983. Admittedly, I came across this just a few months ago while sampling as many of the Toshi-san-composed Michiya bushi (みちや節). Based on the comprehensive discography in Hiroshi Ogino’s (荻野広) Michiya Mihashi: Sengo kayo ni miru Showa no sesou (三橋美智也: 戦後歌謡に見る昭和の世相), Muteki seemed to be their final collaborative piece. 

As for why I could stomach this singular song (I must've listened to it at least 6 times on the day I broke my music fast), it's because it's an extremely easy-listening enka. Toshi-san's melody of a medium-ish tempo is pleasantly jaunty, yet not too intense; the plucky notes of the acoustic guitar and whistling flute making it lively enough. Even the dramatic segments were arranged in such a way that isn't too jarring while still working as intended. Later-day Michi's more subdued delivery still holds a level of despondence that carries the sadness within Yokoi's story - that of an ill-fated pair whose tragic love story began at a foggy wharf. Every aspect of Muteki just melded together so seamlessly, ill me could enjoy it without a shred of discomfort. Even after recovering, I still listen to Muteki fairly frequently since it fits almost any mood I'm in. I guess I found my kayo equivalent to chicken soup, although I wouldn't have foreseen it being a Michiya bushi.