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Suzuki (2000)
by B. J. Carter
Coastal Journal Staff
Don't they look cozy?
Part dream, part perfume ad soundtrack, Richard Dorfmeister (of Kruder and Dormeister) and Robert Huber’s electronic side project taps directly into Brian Eno’s ambient manifesto Ambient 1: Music for Airports with incredibly rewarding results.
Though similar in weight and flavor to the best Thievery Corporation cuts, Suzuki’s tracks merge gracefully and coherently enough to suggest a narrative. The album comes three years after their first, Opera, whose title references the source of the group’s name, a Puccini opera.
The most discernable musical template here is dub, lightly coating most of the tunes in warm, shuffling beats, but Suzuki’s calling card is a blend of influences so subtle as to be nearly invisible. Beguiling vocal melodies seep from every corner, and like any good down tempo recording, the bass lines are subtle, tuneful, and languid.
Suzuki’s understated mid-range is its real author, however. “Honey” and “The Key” manage to sound breathy and exotic without relying on predictable “eastern” progressions or sitars thanks to vaguely brooding synths that drape themselves over every blip. Nowhere is this more true than on “Annanas,” a six-minute dream you don’t want to wake up from.
Suzuki’s universe is decidedly nocturnal, settling somewhere between the spaced-out funk of Air’s Moon Safari and Kevin Shields’s Lost in Translation material. Indeed, Suzuki sounds a little like what Tokyo must look like from the window of a moving bus at midnight.
But I can testify to its effectiveness around these parts. It bore the honor of playback during our first snowstorm of the year, and of the many reasons I didn’t want to get out of my car that morning, Suzuki was one of them.
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