It's a shame that New Zealand's thriving experimental/noise/improv scene has gone so neglected by our local press when it's been so revered overseas. While the words "noise" and "experimental" might suggest some level of inaccessibility - and I'll be the first to admit some of the shit still scares me - this lovely compilation by Auckland sound artist Tim Coster should perhaps unlock a few doors for those curious to explore other rich musical frontiers beyond the realm of the conventional.

The first official CD release on his label CLaudia - home to a slew of CDRs - Compact Listen gathers 13 tracks featuring the work of Coster's close friends and fellow artists - Nigel Wright, Mark Sadgrove, Sam Hamilton, Angeline Chirnside, Stefan Neville - alongside obscurities like Ray Off and Arie Hellendoorn. There initially seems to be a wide disparity in styles - from free-form clatter to wall-of-sound drones to warm acoustic guitar pieces - but the album is ultimately united by its sense of mystery and unpredictability, a sonic freedom that isn't shackled by the boundaries of words or hooks.

Part of the album's appeal is trying to decipher the origins of the digitally processed found sounds on the tracks. Dutch-born painter Hellendoorn opens the album with a charmingly brief lo-fi composition that wouldn't be out of place on Finland's Fonal label, combining the creaking of a rickety chair and playful keyboards. Similarly, Jane Austen and Dunedin outfit Ray Off opt for child-like experimentation. The former buries her vocal refrain beneath water-logged tinkling keys, rumbling, chattering noise, and insistently crashing cymbals, while the latter's gorgeous guitar filigree is interrupted by a backdrop of ethereal vocals, toy instruments and flipped-out electronic noodling.

Following the acoustic prettiness of Ray Off and Greg Malcolm, Sam Hamilton's Into Navigation provides a necessary jolt. It starts off like some lost tribal Folkways recording - eerie, high-pitched hollering with skeletal percussive accompaniment - but buzzing electronics soon creep in before climaxing in a flood of dense noise. On the dronier side of things, Coster and Wright's collaborative effort Cathedral provides a strong, cavernously toned workout that lives up to its title, while Rosy Parlane's Odessa is a blissfully hazy Eno-esque waking dream anchored by a hypnotic harmonium.

Excluding The Futurians' maddening, assaultive Bionic Vampires, every track on Compact Listen is subtly selected and sequenced, resulting in a deep, rewarding listening experience that demands close attention to unearth the beauty amid the shards of aural discord.

Coster also recently released the stunning Star Mill, a 37-minute three-track (or one-track-in-three-parts) EP that's probably the best work he's done yet. As with past releases Landing and Rowboat/Blackberry, Coster uses the laptop to manipulate and layer his field recordings into langurous stretches of humid, trance-inducing ambient tones. The imperceptibility of his sources infuses these untitled pieces with delicate ambiguity, which in turn allows them to develop very visual qualities. The first track begins its epic 20-minute voyage with some faint clicking and tapping, then a sustained hum, then what sounds like an incoming ship's horn. 5 minutes in, glass harp-like slivers seep into the web, with Coster continually shifting and tweaking things to create an intensely warm, womb-like shroud of sound. It eventually ends with a bright clearing, the emergence of life: cars driving by, chiming birds, and something squeaking in the distance. It's just another sublime puzzle piece to Coster's immersive, quietly grand design.

Real Groove, February 2008