Angeline (Europe) and Tim (South Pacific) collaborated at an agreeably leisurely pace, by seapost, for one year. Live recordings from one collaboration together in mid 2007 have been cut up, re-stitched, and embroidered over many times. Some new sounds found in their differing places of residence have been threaded in.

T barely conceals and inordinate fondness of (disgraceful compulsion for drinking) Chamomille Tea, claiming it a remedy for most any of the diverse maladies he is affected by, (and finding it most especially reviving after a sly nap between the volumes and tomes).

A is possessed of a trifling turn of mind, inclined to much fretting and fidgeting and is in fact in too much of a state of agitation, often, to take her supper, preferring instead to nibble at toast and jam at most peculiar intervals.

The musical alliance of two such ill-disposed characters was nevertheless the resulting document, Currer Bells.

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Dirt Beneath the Daydream REVIEW from Foxy Digitalis (excerpt):
"...A few of the tracks also suggest the influence of a particular brand of contemporary American free music aesthetics. Currer Bells’ “Three Volumes” combines an untouchably late night vibe with distant tentative guitars and meditative percussion.

The relative diversity of sound and geographic location that the contributions span should hopefully attest to the continuing vitality of New Zealand’s underground. Hopefully this disc can provide those outside New Zealand with an introduction to some of the best of its experimental musicians currently practising, even as many move increasingly away from the previously dominant sound associated with Xpressway, Corpus Hermeticum and the like. "

3" CDR REVIEW from Boa Melody Bar:
"...Loops assembled from a range of instruments (bass, cymbals, acoustic guitar, keyboard, drums, glasses, shaker and glockenspiel) and improvised live sounds. The looped percussion on the opener makes me think of a weaver's loom and it's rhythmic thrum is shrouded in computer-generated drone. "Six Feelings" has a loop that sounds like the intense twitter of a flock of goldfinches with live drums. The final track is unexpected - a fragile song constructed from incessantly repeated sparse guitar notes and layered female vocals and unsettling feedback drones. Another excellent collaborative effort."

3" CDR REVIEW from Vital Weekly:
"Coster is also involved in Currer Bells, a new duo he does with Jane Austen. They have an extensive line up of instruments and sounds to use, ranging from bass, cymbals, acoustic guitar, keyboard, drums, glasses, shaker and glockenspiel. Three songs which all seem to evolve around the use of loops of all of these sound producing devices and over that they add live playing of instruments, mainly the drum parts - or so it seems. The result is a nice combination of improvised playing, along with a whole bunch of computerized loops in 'Vivid Words', but on 'Two Winters' things are down and the vocals make this is a very free singer songwriter piece. Fine start for Currer Bells, and no doubt we'll hear more from them."

3" CDR REVIEW from Foxy Digitalis:
"A hauntological reading of this sort of thing will always leave you at sea, usually somewhere in the middle of some Bermuda Triangle, stranded in a nauseous soliloquy while the sun sets on critical distance, but the gently gyrating passages and timbered timbres of Currer Bells genuinely advance in a maritime manner, and, as the artists Tim Coster and Jane Austen remark on their collaborative methodology, move at an ‘agreeably leisurely pace, by seapost’, invoking a sort of desultory below-decks chamber music for an ancestral kind of post-digital migration.

Setting out with a bit-crushed phantom shuffle of softly syncopated transistor static, ‘Vivid Words’ soon becomes an intricate palimpsest of sonorous tremolo whirr and warmly mechanical agitation, lithe polyrhythmic patterns slipping over themselves in a sinuous lattice of sloow but protean motion, stirring against a backdrop of buoyant and undulating hum. Hull-like ligneous beats are soon unsettled by wraithlike ricocheted laughter and the dispatching of an enveloping, flute-like symphonic theme, its arciform drift buoyed upon a pulsing glissando that rumbles into life like the tremulous loops of Zoviet France’s “The Decriminalization of Country Music”, however seasicker.

Vitreous clinks and faltering recorder-puffs mingle amidst the drifting top-deck mirth, clipping and dubbing momentum, embossing its ghost ship vibes and casting a pre-emptive spell against prescriptive repose through a kind of compressed and squashed aquatic turbulence. Percussive double-time flickers emerge and withdraw into the background as the ingénue twitters and laughter of the sampled recorder lesson swell the dis-ease of the musical berth and connect up with a resurfaced static fizz, curling over into ‘Six Feelings’ with its truncated toy-ride cymbal twinkles and muffled poltergeist tumbles invoking the warmer spirits of This Heat’s “Deceit”. Gated toy-bird flutes circle around a hypodermic ostinato and a peripheral wash of traffic, rare sights out in these waters. Tentative two-note guitar patterns float through the vacuous depression on a time-stretched raft, ending up on an arid plateau against a background of footfall crinkles, cicada-like car alarms and general domestic hiss. This textural grounding occurs almost subliminally, demonstrating Coster and Chirnside’s utter rhythmic élan and microscopic attention to felicitous detail. You could almost read Chirnside’s vocal appearance as siren-like but it’s too comically Zen and desiccate, navigating instead a pastoral terrain of ‘grey sky and bright snow’ with ‘rainbows in the puddles’, delivered with a deadpan beauty that is sparkling in its tuneless intimacy. The ballad is stark in its departure from the winding splendour of the opening track and even the double-tracked doppelganger voice and oscillating sci-fi glissandi that quietly erupt towards the conclusion retain the eerie setting.

Thrumming ambient beats (is that still paradox?) and the pumping of a bus’s take-off eloquently bring the tripartite piece to its terminus. An abrupt fade-out is just as suddenly remedied before the slow receding of its entire ecology at the 18-minute mark. It’s an infuriatingly short trip, and threatens to be a mere promising sample of what Currer Bells could achieve on a longer format, yet this very brevity, its cyclical lineament and deft-as-eff execution will have the listener re-embarking posthaste. 8/10"