The idea behind the “ambient country” genre is simple enough: moody instrumental electronics with acoustic underpinnings. But SUSS, the trio who are possibly the best-known purveyors of the style, are constantly finding new ways to make it exciting and unique. Their latest album, Birds & Beasts, sees the band stretching out with some longer songs and generally more sparse arrangements, which prevents them from getting stuck in any kind of artistic rut.
SUSS consists of Jonathan Gregg on pedal steel and multi-instrumentalists Bob Holmes and Pat Irwin, and they were previously a quartet until Gary Leib passed away in 2021. The musical landscapes they create are based mainly on the organic qualities of acoustic guitar, the resonant twang of pedal steel, and bathed in a wash of synthesizers that never seems overbearing; instead, it adds to the richness of the atmosphere. Like other ambient country artists such as Mute Duo, Labradford, and M. Butterfly – not to mention Jordan Reyes, whose frequent forays into more industrial sounds were paused when he took a detour with the sumptuous ambient country sounds of 2020’s Sand Like Stardust – the music of SUSS is imbued with the beauty and mystery of the American West.
The subtle waves of sound on the opening track, “Birds”, combine synths and guitars with the warmth of electric piano chords. Although it’s the shortest track at just under four minutes, the deliberate pacing of the track makes the listener seem stuck in a sort of delirious, narcotic slow motion. The minor-key acoustic fingerpicking on “Restless” suggests a more folklike approach, but sonorous piano chords and the ever-present pedal steel swells keep the vibe rooted in a sort of mysterious desert soundtrack. There is a consistency to the tracks on Birds & Beasts, but SUSS subtly shift the arrangements just enough to give each track its own musical personality.
The gently insistent synthesizers on “Flight” provide a measure of modernity peeking through the analog soundscape, almost like a familiar lifeline among the big sky groan of electric guitar. It’s a sort of pulse, and oddly enough, that synth seems to represent the heartbeat of humanity that SUSS insist is there. But the spacey, low-register sonic bed that hums almost menacingly through “Beasts” is almost alien-like and paired with sustained bits of guitar and piano that brings to mind the ambient masterpieces of Brian Eno.
In the press notes for Birds & Beasts, Holmes explains, “For once, it looked like the stark, vast landscapes that we had been painting before were starting to be populated with a bit of creature warmth.” But, he adds, “This is not Garden of Eden kind of stuff.” Irwin says he “think(s) of the fragility of the world around us… the humanity, and the lack of it.” Birds and beasts. Warmth and tension. It’s all here in equal measure, presented brilliantly.