From Margate’s waves to Japanese wind chimes, Yuri Suzuki reimagines background noise as a soundtrack for everyday life
I’m interested in what I call ‘passive listening’. As humans, we unconsciously absorb sound daily – ambient noise, background hums – without actively focusing on it. Around 70-80 per cent of the time we’re consuming sound passively, so it’s important to be aware of what we don’t hear. That idea shaped The Ambient Machine, which came from noticing, during the pandemic, the unavoidable noises around me and wanting to rearrange them into my own preferred soundscape, almost like a ‘sound conditioner’.
I’m drawn to non-intentional music. Erik Satie tried to compose works people wouldn’t notice, but they were so appealing that they did. Later, Brian Eno developed the idea further, making soothing background sounds that were unnoticeable but still created a good feeling. They created the benchmark for ambient music, and the Ambient Machine is my own proposal for what ambient sound could be.
What’s different is the presentation. The Ambient Machine has eight tracks and several effects that can be reversed or slowed down. Customisation is important because people’s preferences for sound are so personal. It’s deliberately not connected to the internet or via Bluetooth, so once it’s set it stays, becoming part of the background. Half the sounds are recordings from outdoors, especially from my seaside home in Margate – waves, wind and water, which tend to calm people. Others are subtle melodic elements inspired by Japanese sound devices like wind chimes or shishi-odoshi (‘deer scarer’). We’ve made three editions so far, each with different themes.
I prefer working with vintage electronic instruments from the 1970s and 80s. They’re inefficient and expensive, but their pure, non-digitally processed sound has a quality you can’t get from a computer. For me, working with switches and knobs feels almost like sculpting – a more hands-on way of creating. The Ambient Machine’s design borrows from 60s furniture and electronics, with 32 unlabelled switches so people can stumble onto their own soundscape. I purposely left off labels, so discovery comes through play rather than instruction – an approach influenced by early experimental instruments like the Triadex Muse, a sequencer-based synthesiser developed at MIT.
Accessibility is important to me. Because of dyslexia, I never read manuals. I design so people can learn by touching, playing and discovering. As a child, I loved museums but always struggled with labels, which left me frustrated. Discovering interactive art as a teenager was groundbreaking – by engaging directly with a piece, you could understand what the artist wanted to say without needing language. That experience shaped my practice.
Most of my work today is interactive and often installed in public spaces, where people of any age, background or language can engage through play. For me, sound is a tool for communication that goes beyond text. Many of the conflicts we see in the world come from miscommunication, and I’m interested in how simpler ways of connecting – through plain speech or even sound – might help us understand each other better.
As told to Ayla Angelos
Photography Otto Masters, shot on location at Yuri Suzuki‘s studio in Margate
This article is taken from Port issue 37. To continue reading, buy the issue or subscribe here
