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How Suzuki Mikiko Zu Gives Voice to Anger and Inner Conflict

2024.12.6

鈴木実貴子ズ

#PR #MUSIC

Anger is exhausting—it drains you. Over time, it becomes second nature to ignore the small sparks of frustration, choosing apathy over confrontation. That’s where I found myself, coasting through life in a haze of indifference. Then, on June 21, 2023, at Shibuya La.mama, a live performance broke through my numbness. It reminded me that some moments demand anger, that expressing it is part of living fully. That night, I encountered Suzuki Mikiko Zu for the first time.

This two-piece band from Nagoya is a force of nature. Suzuki Mikiko, a whirlwind of emotion, channels her energy into ferocious acoustic strumming and vocals, while “zu” anchors the music with rhythmic beats that feel like the pulse of a heart. Over a year later, I was surprised to hear they were making their major-label debut. With 12 years in the scene, Suzuki seemed like someone at war with the world—a fiercely independent artist unlikely to compromise. Yet, when we spoke, her reasoning became clear.

At the core of Suzuki’s journey lies a simple but profound desire: to be seen and acknowledged. Following their performance at FUJI ROCK FESTIVAL ’22, she began to feel that recognition, allowing her to embrace live performances with newfound freedom. Their major debut, along with the release of digital singles Iwakanto Kyukutsu (“Discomfort and Confinement”) and Akatsuki (“Dawn”), felt like a natural next step.

As someone who shares their generational pulse and understands the struggles of a musician, I had the chance to explore their perspective. Even with the comfort of recognition, Suzuki’s fire remains unquenched. Frustrations persist, and anger simmers beneath the surface, but in their raw honesty lies a profound truth about life. Suzuki Mikiko Zu doesn’t shy away from the chaos; they embrace it, reminding us of the messy, human essence of living—and the courage it takes to feel it all.

Using a Band as a Way to Channel Frustration, Not Aspiration

The Suzuki Mikiko Zu band originated from your solo work, Mikiko Suzuki. To begin, could you share what first inspired each of you to get into music?

Suzuki: In high school, I overheard my brother playing SUM 41 in the next room, and I thought it was so cool that I wanted to try playing it myself. I borrowed his guitar to attempt a cover, but it was too hard, so I just started strumming randomly and expressing my feelings through it—and it felt really cathartic. I realized that I could release all the frustration I felt from my family environment through music. At the time, I never considered performing in front of people. It was more like a quick remedy to help me process my emotions.

From left to right: Zu, Mikiko Suzuki

So, it wasn’t about idolizing the stage?

Suzuki: Not at all—it felt like a completely different world. I never thought I could become anything like a musician. I didn’t even listen to much music back then, so I wasn’t particularly knowledgeable about it.

Music, then, was more of a way to release what was bottled up inside you.

Suzuki: Exactly. Even so, I’ve always liked SUM 41, and I think that deep down, I’ve always felt that music was cool. Back then, I did have this vague thought of wanting to form a band.

Zu: But you didn’t have any friends.

Suzuki: Yeah, I didn’t have any. I guess I was more suited to quietly doing things on my own rather than being part of a loud, lively group.

Suzuki Mikiko Zu
A two-piece acoustic guitar and drums rock band based in Nagoya, consisting of Mikiko Suzuki (Vocals / Guitar) and Zu (Isami Takahashi) (Drums). Formed in 2012, they have released three albums and two EPs independently. The band creates songs that pierce deep into the heart, powered by Suzuki’s powerful, soul-stirring vocals and Zu’s emotional drumming. Their music features melodies full of pop sensibility that grab listeners’ hearts at first listen, marking them as the next-generation performers. In 2022, they performed at the “ROOKIE A GO GO” stage of the FUJI ROCK FESTIVAL and were selected as a “RISING STAR” at the RISING SUN ROCK FESTIVAL. Since 2021, they have hosted their own event, Shinzou no Saion (Heart Noise), sharing the stage with artists such as Pistol Takehara, Ai Higuchi, and THA BLUE HERB.

When was the first time you performed in front of an audience?

Suzuki: It was during my college light music club. We did a cover of something, but I felt, “Why do we have to do covers?” so I quit after just one performance. After that, I posted on mixi to find band members, and we started a band. From then on, we played my own songs, which hasn’t changed to this day.

You didn’t feel good playing other people’s songs?

Suzuki: Not at all. There’s an answer already, so it felt really constricting and difficult.

Zu: Even now, when we try to cover someone else’s song, we can’t remember the chords or lyrics.

Suzuki: I can only resonate with something if it’s fundamentally the same, and if I can’t resonate with it, I can’t sing it. That’s why I can only play my own songs. Ultimately, I’m most interested in myself, and I love myself the most.

In various interviews, people have mentioned your strong desire for validation.

Suzuki: Even the band name is a bundle of desire for validation. I want a place to belong, and I want to be recognized. But I don’t even recognize myself for thinking that way, so it’s like an endless loop of loneliness.

What inspired you to start making music?

Zu: I had a high school junior who was incredibly good at playing the guitar. Watching him, I thought it looked interesting, so I started. My first instrument was the guitar, and during my senior year’s cultural festival, I played the bass, but now I play the drums. I don’t really have a preference for any particular instrument. The bands I listened to in high school, like BLANKEY JET CITY, THEE MICHELLE GUN ELEPHANT, and NUMBER GIRL, weren’t really featured in the media. Especially NUMBER GIRL—they looked just like ordinary people, and it resonated with me that these kinds of people were making cool music.

It seems like you and Suzuki share a common approach in seeing music not as an aspiration but as a means to an end.

Zu: Yes, that’s true. The junior who inspired me is still making music, so I guess that’s part of why I’m still at it too.

The Beauty Beyond Entertainment

There was a time when Suzuki, who was active as a solo artist, started working with different people in the studio, which led to collaborating with Zu. At the time, there was another guitarist involved, but when that person left, they continued as a two-piece band. However, as a band sound, it’s undeniably lacking something, right? I wondered if there was a moment when you were certain that this setup could work.

Suzuki: No, there wasn’t [laughs].

Zu: We still don’t feel like a fully formed band (laughs). It’s actually a huge source of frustration. Sometimes when we bring in support members and perform as a full band, it feels like, “This is it, it’s perfect!”

Suzuki: But, surprisingly, the audience often says they like the two-piece setup, so while I do want to continue as a band, I’m also fine with just the two of us.

Zu: It feels like a different kind of thing. When we play as a band, it becomes very musical, but when it’s just the two of us, it feels more like an expression that goes beyond music. I totally understand why people might prefer the two-piece format. That said, the temptation is still there.

Suzuki: Yeah, it’s hard to resist the allure of bass and electric sounds. Even when I watch other bands, I think, “You need electric guitars, it’s a must.” But when we perform as a band, I feel armed and get a bit overconfident. The sound is bigger, and there’s this invincible feeling. But that’s not true [laughs]. In that sense, sticking to just the two of us might be a good way to keep ourselves grounded.

There is certainly value in creating elaborate costumes and stage productions, but that’s not the approach of Suzuki Mikiko Zu.

Suzuki: I think those things can be fun, but what I find cool might be different. I feel beauty and humanity in the intense expressions of bands like Sambomaster during their live performances. I want them to perform in their pajamas, and I want to see real people in a live show.

Zu: There’s a kind of beauty that comes when you strip away the entertainment aspect.

Suzuki: Exactly. In a way, it’s the opposite of the mainstream. The idea is that what truly shines is found in places that are rough and raw, like a gathering of windblown leaves. That’s the truth for me.

What I want to sing about is like a T-shirt — simple and unadorned, blending into everyday life.
The worn-out fabric, the inside of it, stretched-out underwear, the thin soles of shoes.
I don’t need tomorrow, I don’t need the future, I don’t need security — I only want now.
Is that not enough? Is that not good enough? The marketplace of life with no price tag.

Mikiko Suzuki Zu “Sunset”

Collaborating with Genuine People

The second major debut release, “Akatsuki,” set to be released on Wednesday, November 27, features Hisako Tabuchi and Takehisa Gomi, truly an unbeatable combination of guitar and bass, right?

https://youtu.be/bJxkzPZ3njQ

Zu: There are many players I think are great, but there’s hardly anyone I truly want to collaborate with. So, it was incredibly exciting when we found two people we both wanted to work with. It feels like a dream.

What’s the standard for deciding whether or not you can work with someone?

Zu: Hmm, it’s hard to put into words, but it might be the sense of being alternative.

Suzuki: It might be not being superficial. I trust people who use their heads.

Zu: It’s the feeling you get when you talk to them directly. The recording session went so smoothly. Even though I only had abstract ideas to convey, it was settled in one take.

I Don’t Pick Up My Guitar When I’m Happy

Are there any particular standards or words from others that you trust?

Suzuki: Hmm… I do recall things my mother said, like “Regret doing something rather than not doing it” or “It’s fine the way you are,” but there isn’t a specific phrase that stands out. I really don’t listen to other people’s words. My ears are tiny, right? Because I don’t listen, they’ve atrophied and shrunk over time. There have been words said to me, but I forget them. There’s a certain ruthlessness in using people’s kindness and discarding it.

Do the words of others get converted into lyrics and expressed through your music?

Suzuki: Oh, that might be the case. I don’t really remember, but when I look back at my lyrics, it brings back those memories.

Zu: I think we’re influenced by various things. Maybe it doesn’t affect the song itself, but it changes our mindset.

Suzuki: That’s true. My way of thinking has changed.

Your songs consistently carry a sense of anger and frustration. You mentioned earlier that it stems from “family turmoil,” but what kinds of things are reflected in your lyrics now?

Suzuki: It’s still personal things, as it always has been. Maybe because I’m so intense, but just living life brings up things that make me go, “What’s that all about?” Even things like how people line up in the supermarket or sit on the Shinkansen make me feel that way—I’m pretty petty. I can only think from my own perspective, so I don’t match with those around me, and I can’t keep a job. It’s that irritation, mixed with the frustration of not being able to bend or understand others or forgive, that I channel into music. That’s why all my songs end up revolving around the same theme.

Does your anger fluctuate depending on the time period?

Suzuki: The total amount of anger doesn’t decrease, but it might become less noticeable when there is more happiness. For example, when a kitten is born, I don’t care about the line at the supermarket. It creates a sense of ease. I don’t write songs during those times.

Zu: So, songs are created during times when happiness is scarce. That’s the worst [laughs].

Suzuki: I used to say that if I couldn’t make songs anymore, it would probably mean I was the happiest I could be. I don’t pick up the guitar when I’m happy. That’s still true today. If I can’t make songs, I guess I’d be happy. But I wonder if that’s even possible.

https://youtu.be/tV2_7SeRZjo?feature=shared

Were you happy before you started making music?

Suzuki:Up until around high school, I was definitely happy. Enjoying club activities, eating delicious food, going out for a bit at night and saying “Yay!” That kind of thing. But then my environment and family changed, and once I started thinking, “Who am I?”, the unease began to surface. Once I started seeing that, it never really goes away. I think that if I push a little further, I might see more of both the higher and lower points, and it could even lead to some kind of enlightenment.

Frustration Remains Unresolved During Live Performances, Carrying Over Music and Emotions into Daily Life

I believe that in Suzuki’s songs, the act of “singing and creating music” is embedded as a motif. Music has become inseparable from daily life, so even if songs are created as an outlet, they can also bring about new stress, leading to a loop of frustration.

Suzuki: Yeah, I can’t escape it. It’s tough. But if listeners can feel something and find a positive turn from it, that’s totally fine with me. I hadn’t really felt this way before.

Zu: It’s a bit of a relief, right?

I think one of the functions of a rock band is for frustrated people to come together and temporarily forget their worries by playing loud, powerful music. But often, if things are too cathartic, the underlying issues can become vague or neglected. In the case of Suzuki Mikiko Zu, since Suzuki herself hasn’t fully released her frustrations, listeners are left in a state where they need to keep thinking about it.

Suzuki:So, it’s music that doesn’t get resolved and carries over into daily life.

Exactly. That’s why I think it has such a strong impact on listeners’ lives. On the other hand, this means Suzuki can’t break free from the painful loop.

Suzuki:It’s tough. It’s clearly tough.

Do you feel Suzuki’s struggles while watching her from the side, ‘s?

Suzuki: You definitely feel it, right? With me going bald and all.

Zu: It’s tough on me too [laughs]. I’m the one who sees it the most up close, so there are parts I can really believe in, and parts where I want to shout, “Come on, enough already!” I think everyone in the band has their own struggles, big or small, but no one’s life and music are as intertwined as hers. That’s what draws me to her and gives me a reason to keep going.

Suzuki: Of course it’s hard, but live performances are so much fun. If it weren’t for live shows, I might not even create songs. It was different in the past, but now I feel like they’re what keep me going. The joy of live shows is as simple as jumping rope.

Zu: You only started having fun recently, didn’t you?

Suzuki: Maybe since Fuji Rock. The sense of security from knowing there are people who recognize us created a feeling that I could be more carefree. Before that, I always thought there was absolutely no demand for us.

https://youtu.be/svW4ZkJlqS8?feature=shared

Zu: Exactly, you should be more carefree. There are people who recognize you and appreciate you.

Suzuki: That connects to the whole major label thing, too. The fact that I’m involved with more people has given me a bit of confidence. I’m happy and excited that I can think, “It’s okay to be myself,” even if it’s only about one in a hundred times like an ordinary person would.

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