RIP Ichiro Mizuki 1948-2022

(1/23 note: I wavered a lot on posting this. It was both that it felt too personal and that I didn’t want it to come off as opportunistic. But I wrote this whole thing a couple of days after Mizuki passed, and I came upon it again a few days ago and I realized that was dumb, that Aniki meant a lot to me and that’s okay. I hope I do can him some justice. I did a Kawaiikochans on the subject too.)

When you see people mourning a celebrity, keep in mind that though they never knew or met this person, the celebrity meant something to them, which is meaningful in its own way.

That’s why I’ve been sitting here for days wanting to talk about the passing of the great singer Ichiro Mizuki without really knowing how. Didn’t know the guy. Didn’t get to see him sing in person. Nevertheless, I’m deeply affected.

Ichiro Mizuki is a voice that’s nostalgic to me by two degrees of separation: 20 years ago, when I got interested in anime from 40 and 50 years ago, his voice was indelibly imprinted onto me along with Hironobu Kageyama’s.

Mizuki, aka Aniki (“Big bro”), was and remains the insanely prolific king of the Japanese anime song. He got his start singing opening theme songs for 70s anime and never fully left that world, embracing a hero persona off the back of his most famous song, Mazinger Z’s iconic theme.

My love for the Mazinger Z theme and for the whole anisong canon runs very deep. I don’t remember the very first time I encountered these songs— maybe the old Animetal marathon CDs?— but they, and Mizuki’s booming, heroic voice, wormed their way into my head long before I ever actually watched many of these series.

They’re as catchy as it gets, after all: the Mazinger Z theme is explicitly meant for kids to sing back at the screen. It elevates the robot’s “special attacks” into ritual: “Fly, iron fist! Rocket Punch!” You can’t think of Mazinger Z without its song. It is a part of the robot’s majesty.

Mazinger Z Vs. Ankoku Daishogun is a perfect super robot movie: it’s a simple lesson for kids about getting beaten up and standing back up no matter what. My favorite scene has Koji Kabuto praying to God on the night of the battle, resolute but nevertheless certain of his impending death. Toy commercial though it may be, it is at the same time sincere and profound.

Aniki sings the opening credits song over pictures of Mazinger Z that children sent in at the time. The song is about Mazinger’s new flying backpack, how cool it is. There’s never any condescension or down-speaking in these songs or in his voice. Aniki is there with the children, amplifying in them that same awe and joy they feel.

So I fell in love with the whole aesthetic and attitude of old robot anime: the unabashed camp, the courage it takes to be honest and proud, even if it looks silly or simple or childish to others.

At this time in my life I was moving from being a self-conscious teenager terrified of looking uncool to others— even as a proud nerd— to a college-age young man. Someone who didn’t worry about looking silly anymore.

I got into JAM Project around this time, via the Super Robot Wars games. (Today they’re overwhelmingly known for the One Punch Man opening.) Founded by Ichiro Mizuki and Hironobu Kageyama of Dragon Ball fame, JAM Project supplies intense rock anthems for robot and hero series, animated and live-action. They aren’t just passionate, they’re exuberant, ecstatic. They’re the voice of how you felt when you were a kid looking at Voltron. I was in love. It was perfect.

Today I’m a robot guy. Boxes full of toy robots, veteran of at least ten different Super Robot Wars, seen Jam Project live probably four times now. Of course I love games too, and the kinds of anime that don’t have robots in them, and sometimes I even watch movies with regular people, but I’m a robot guy.

People say that being a fan is making the thing you like your whole personality… but for me, it’s more like a single precious place deep down. That’s where the robots live. They tell me to never give up.

It’s weird to say it like this, but Ichiro Mizuki was one of the voices who moved me towards liking what I know I like and being the goofball that I know I am, regardless of what anyone else thought of it. So I mourned him greatly. I mourn him today. Thank you, Aniki.