Waveform Transmission Vol.3 initially came out in 1994 on Tresor Records.
The eight titles on the album marked a turning point for Jeff Mills. It indicates a transition from the straightforward sound he had created through the early 1990's, into the different facets and sound pallet he will develop through the remainder of the decade. It is a significant piece within Jeff Mills' masterwork.
The reissue of classic and seminal releases from the Tresor catalogue comes round to Waveform Transmission Vol. 2 by The Vision aka Robert Hood which celebrates its 30th anniversary this year.
Released in the same year he left UR and his hometown of Detroit, Waveform Transmission Vol. 2 represents a pivotal moment in Hood’s career as his move to New York with fellow UR co-founder Je Mills led to Hood experimenting with a new work ethos through which he settled on his trademark sound.
Fast, aurally assaulting, yet funky - the release is techno as eective as it can possibly be; in this version, remastered by Thomas P. Heckmann, we see the first results of his transmutation as Hood manipulates the raw sounds he would soon distil into seminal works like Internal Empire and Minimal Nation.
Ever philosophical and spiritual, in the sleeve notes for the release Hood dedicated the release “to the form of simplicity, the reasoning of vision, the understanding of where we came from and how we got here and to the perspective we use to construct over destiny” - words which from our early 2020s vantage point almost foresee the influence this intuitive work would have on artists working from Birmingham to Berlin and beyond over the next three decades.
Lénok’s 'Langue of Tongue' is a descent. An unhinged pinballing down a realm of incomprehension and lunacy, a darkly psychedelic ego-death-spiral into a world of pure, deranged disquiet. It is, and this cannot be emphasised enough, a truly fucked up place. It comes complete with clearly marked borders delineated by its opening and closing tracks '(Entrance' and 'Exit)’. The message is clear: this is less album than zone.
There's no comfort to be found here. It’s like the inner monologue of some insectile, cyborgian abomination, something unfeeling and hostile, something that could only thrive in a mirror world that perverts light and sullies warmth. It's a netherworld: tracks jut out and stab like cold, craggy wastelandscapes, tangled meshworks of alienic transmissions bleed out into deformed knots of gurgling white noise, lacerations of sound roil and heave and claw as if imprisoned within oppressive waveforms.
‘Tongue’ is marked by a kind of wackiness, a demented slapstick that renders its darkness all the more sinister. Voices wail and taunt like schizophrenic spirits trapped between torment and cackling ecstasy. Tracks giggle and skitter as if populated by grinning, snaggletoothed shadows.
‘Langue of Tongue’ is recommended for the curious and advanced listener. This is music for whatever the opposite of escapism is — it’s REAL twisted. But sometimes morbid fascination takes hold. Sometimes you lift the rock, because you can’t help it, and you observe the squirming mess of life it plays host to. What you experience may not be pleasant, but you might just struggle to tear yourself away.
