LOOK MUM NO COMPUTER Spins Up Electrostatic Mayhem: Compton Organ Tone Wheels Get a DIY Resurrection

The video kicks off with LOOK MUM NO COMPUTER giving us a crash course in Compton organs—a British company that didn’t just churn out pipe monsters for churches, but also dipped their toes into early electronic sound. We’re talking about the kind of gear that makes Hammond look like a kid’s toy. The Compton Electron, their first foray, used two massive discs and a casual 500 volts to spit out waveforms. This wasn’t a standalone synth; it was an add-on to their pipe beasts, and it ran on electrostatics, not the usual electromagnetic trickery.

What’s wild is how Compton sidestepped Hammond’s patents by going full electrostatic. Instead of magnetic pickups and spinning teeth, you get printed waveforms on discs and a design that looks like it belongs in a mad scientist’s lab. LMNC even drops in a demo from the Italian synth museum, where you can literally hear the tone wheel through a guitar amp. If you thought church organs were all about dusty hymns, think again—this is pure rave bunker energy hiding in a wooden case.

With original Compton tone wheels rarer than a polite YouTube comment, LMNC decides to roll his own. He scans the old wheels, designs circuit board versions, and sets out to build a modern clone. The first step is improving the signal path—ditching the background noise and boosting the output with a new op-amp oscillator circuit. There’s breadboarding, variable resistors, and the kind of circuit hacking that makes you want to grab a soldering iron and join in.

The build gets physical with 3D-printed enclosures, bearings, and a slip disc that’s, frankly, a bit rubbish. But that’s the charm—this isn’t a polished product, it’s a living experiment. LMNC’s method is all about getting it working, even if it means soldering a rotor to a flange and hoping for the best. If you want a step-by-step manual, look elsewhere; if you want to see a tone wheel organ reborn in a cloud of solder smoke, you’re in the right place.

The project doesn’t exactly go to plan—there’s a last-minute scramble, a few bodged fixes, and a machine that’s more scratchy drone than pristine organ. LMNC owns the chaos, doodling on the box to distract from the rough edges and adding a massive flywheel for extra spin. The result? A hypnotic, noisy contraption destined for Becky Stern as a Secret Santa gift. It’s not perfect, but it’s got character—and it spins for ages, which is more than you can say for most boutique synths.

We also get a glimpse of version two, with wireless pickups and tighter clearances, and the promise of a version three on the horizon. It’s a classic LMNC journey: start with a wild idea, break a few things, and end up with something that’s both functional and gloriously weird. If you want to see the real drama—wobbly builds, late-night hacks, and the moment when things actually work—you’ll have to watch the video. Some chaos just can’t be explained in text.