Islay - Mud

The ZV-10 synthesizer is producing most of the sounds in this track (apart from the polyphonic pads).

Metalkraft III

I made this track as part of a commission - very proud of how I was able to get a sound like this out of Garageband! Was a great joy to work on and hopefully the start of many more. 

This music can be licensed for miscellaneous use - for details contact William Ahlert via his socials

Insta - https://www.instagram.com/william_ahlert/

or his email williamahlertmusic@gmail.com.

Battle For the Ages

The year is 1460. The fate of the realm lies upon a blade's edge. Richard of the house of York leads a great army vying for control of the Kingdom. King Henry leads a vast army south to meet the oncoming Yorkist fleet, led by the esteemed general Richard Neville, Earl of Warwick. Two men doomed to die. Five battles eager to be fought. Two roses, thorns sharp as blades.


All Know

There I Was (WTF?)

Rain

Comfort Zone

About four years ago I lost hearing in one ear while backpacking in western Montana. 

Despite many visits to doctors, acupuncturists, naturopaths, and other healers, the cause of the loss was never determined. It was an uncertain, vertigo-spinning, worried time out of which came my essay in Orion’s Spring 2019 issue, “The Silent Labyrinth.” 

Now, years later, I can still only hear muffled, underwater sounds in my left ear. The vertigo has subsided—making it possible to surf again—and I am adjusting to living in a hearing world with only one “good” ear. 

My mentor, Peruvian poet Eduardo Chirinos, was also hard of hearing. He used to say that it made him draw nearer to the ones he loved. He encountered the world as a poet, looking for windows and doors to new experiences. He advised, “aguzar ese oído,” or sharpen that ear and listen to new things, to the inner ear that is knocking at our door. “Se nos presente con humildad” to offer its gifts. 

Eduardo has since passed away, and hearing in my left ear has not returned, but I try to heed my mentor’s advice and encounter the world with wonder and gratitude. One of the gifts my left ear has presented is the necessity to listen closely and deeply, questioning the sounds I once assumed to know at first listen. Now I must pause and focus intently on the distant siren, or bird call, or child’s voice. 

Sound artist Gretchen Jude listens in this way too. Recently, we collaborated on a sound piece to reflect and ripple back my experience with hearing loss. Listening to Gretchen’s work, I am flooded with memories: learning to read by breaking familiar words into their phonic parts; waves of overlapping sound at parties and noisy restaurants that make me feel foreign to myself; nodding politely without really understanding; and those moments when, threatened with nothing—no sound, no hearing—I wanted everything, even the ugly, even the horrible buzz or blare. Because those sounds are beloved too. All of them.

Rain

cellotapes

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