From https://williamaferguson.substack.com

The Substack Sessions

Untitled (Read My Mind)

Only God (Intro)

This Album Is maked by ARTIST: Whiskey Roses (Anamaria Shevchenko) Produced By: Qimer Kholo. Saxsaphone (Matee)


Velvet

Unbreakable Ties

[Verse]
Copper gears hum in the deep blue glare
My goggles fog with the briny air
The steam pipe whistles
A lonesome tune
Beneath a brass-tinged afternoon

[Prechorus]
Through spyglass cracked and rimmed with rust
I glimpse the future
I taste the dust

[Chorus]
Islands on the horizon
Resplendent
Promises of dreams
Luminescent
Do they rise from dreams or sinking land
Islands on the horizon
I’ll take my stand

[Verse 2]
Pipes drip echoes of the engine’s groan
The sea’s a clockwork beast
All teeth and bone
A zephyr bites
It chills my skin
But my heart’s a boiler
Roaring within

[Chorus]
Islands on the horizon
Resplendent
Promises of dreams
Luminescent
Do they rise from dreams or sinking land
Islands on the horizon
I’ll take my stand

[Bridge]
Ropes creak like whispers
The mast sways low
What treasures wait where the wild winds blow
A clock ticks faster
The hour draws near
Do we conquer fate or bow to fear

[Chorus]
Islands on the horizon
Resplendent
Promises of dreams
Luminescent
Do they rise from dreams or sinking land
Islands on the horizon
I’ll take my stand

Land of a Thousand Islands

A soulful groove about finding meaning in the smallest things. Pocket Change blends funk and neo-soul with reflective lyrics about the little treasures in everyday life. Another chapter in Bobby Ticklez's Coffee Shop Bangerz project.

Pocket Change (Remix)

Can you  Do you

William A Ferguson: guitars, bass, drums, synthesizers.

Like many of you, I've been reeling since Wednesday, September 10, when the unthinkable happened: Charlie Kirk, the fearless founder of Turning Point USA, was assassinated in cold blood while speaking at Utah Valley University in Orem, Utah.

A single shot from a rooftop, 142 yards away, struck him in the neck during an event attended by thousands of young conservatives who looked to him as a beacon of unapologetic truth-telling. At the time of this writing, authorities arrested 22-year-old Tyler Robinson, a suspect whose family turned him in after he confessed his opposition to Kirk's views.

President Trump has called for the death penalty, flags are at half-staff nationwide, and the nation mourns a man who dedicated his life to amplifying conservative voices on campuses and beyond.

Charlie wasn't just a commentator; he was a warrior for free speech, a mentor to a generation, and a reminder that ideas – even the ones that make the establishment squirm – are worth defending with everything we've got. His death has sparked outrage, vigils, and yes, even shameful celebrations from corners of the left that prove just how fragile some egos are when faced with dissenting thought.

It's a stark warning: In a world where rhetoric is weaponized and violence lurks, the mob's baying hounds will silence anyone who dares to speak out against their narrative.

In the immediate wake of this tragedy, I have to be honest – I didn't feel like doing music. At all. The shock hit like a gut punch. How do you pick up a guitar or scribble lyrics when a voice like Charlie's has been snuffed out? The air felt too heavy, the words too hollow. I scrolled through the graphic videos circulating online (now behind warnings on most platforms), read the twisted posts gloating over his death, and wondered if any song could pierce that darkness.

But then it hit me, clear as one of Charlie's rallying cries: He wouldn't want us to go quiet. Charlie built Turning Point USA to get loud – to flood campuses with debates, to arm young people with facts, to ensure conservative ideas roared louder than the echo chamber trying to drown them out. If there's one thing his life (and now his martyrdom) demands, it's that we all turn up the volume right now. We can't let the assassins – literal or figurative – win by making us retreat into silence.

That's why I sat down and wrote this. It's a song called "You Can't Silence Us" – an anthem born from grief but fueled by defiance. No, it doesn't name names or relive the horror; it's broader than that, a call to every one of us who's ever been shouted down, shadow-banned, or threatened for speaking our minds. It's for Charlie, for you, for the fight that doesn't end with one bullet. Imagine it with a driving strum building to a full-band chorus – the kind of track you'd blast at a rally or share in a group chat to steel your resolve.

This isn't just a song; it's a promise. Charlie Kirk's assassination should light a fire under us all – not for vengeance, but for vigilance. Utah Governor Spencer Cox called it a "political assassination" that strikes at the foundation of our democracy, and he's right. In the days ahead, as the investigation unfolds and the rhetoric heats up (with even CBS hosts like Nate Burleson facing backlash for pinning it on GOP "rhetoric"),let's channel that energy into action.

Attend a Turning Point event. Start a campus chapter. Share this song on X, TikTok, wherever the censors lurk.

Charlie wanted us loud. Let's give him – and ourselves – that gift.

In solidarity and with volume cranked,

William A. Ferguson

P.S. If you're moved, drop a comment below: What's your way of getting loud right now? And if you record a cover of this, tag me – I'd love to amplify it.

You Can't Silence Us

Sweet Home Comin’
This suite is a testament to return — not to nostalgia, but to reclamation. It maps the emotional terrain of exile, memory, and spiritual homecoming through cipher rap etched with soul and ambient folk textures. The barred gate in the jungle stream becomes a central motif: symbolizing both obstruction and passage, a surreal checkpoint between colonial rupture and ancestral reconnection.
The lyric moves through:
Displacement and silence — verses that reflect on lost lineage, broken geographies, and the quiet ache of belonging
Ancestral invocation — Akan phrases, sonic motifs, and melodic slack that summon cultural memory
Emotional testimony — not performative grief, but strategic vulnerability, carved in cadence
Reclamation — the final movement flips the gate into a portal, declaring that home isn’t behind us — it’s being rebuilt in cipher

Sweet Home Comin’  #Soul-infused Cipher Rap Ambient Folk

MELANCHOLY  (creeps in slowly)

Man catches woman kissing another man; he's not impressed. But now he's depressed so he writes a song to tell the world. You should listen to his sad story. :) 

Blues are Made for Bad News: Blues goes dream pop

If you know, you know. 😉

William A Ferguson: synthesizers, electronics, electronic percussion.

Wax Mirage

William A Ferguson: guitars, bass, drums.


“Ship of Fools” is a lyrical voyage into the heart of human delusion. Its verses paint a surreal picture: a creaking ship, adrift with “no compass, no anchor, no shore in sight.” The crew, lost in hollow laughter and tangled lies, dances “in circles, round and round,” chasing a horizon that offers no joy. The song’s tone is mournful, almost ghostly, with lines like “the waves, they whisper, they call us home / but we’re too far gone, too far to roam” tugging at the soul. It’s not about one person or one failure—it’s about all of us, those moments when we cling to broken dreams or deny the truths staring us in the face.The song’s power lies in its universality. It doesn’t name names or point fingers; it invites us to see ourselves in the “splintered deck” and the fading moonlight. Whether it’s a career we chased too long, a belief we couldn’t let go, or a relationship we knew was sinking, we’ve all boarded a ship of fools at some point. The repetitive chorus—“lost at sea, where no truth is found”—drives home the cyclical nature of our missteps, yet its poetic cadence makes the journey feel almost beautiful in its tragedy.






Ship of Fools

William A Ferguson: guitar, bass, keyboards, electronic percussion.

This song’s a sharp, satirical take on someone drowning in the absurdity of modern “woke” culture. It follows a person so obsessed with overreacting to every little thing — wilting flowers, canceled cartoons, even their own shadow — that they’ve lost touch with reality.

They’re clutching pearls, writing endless rants, and canceling everything from coffee to mirrors, all while questioning if they’re actually doing any good or just tying themselves in knots. The new verse and bridge amp up the chaos, with them shouting at stars and building walls of words, hinting at a lonely, self-destructive spiral.

It’s a hilarious yet biting jab at performative activism, leaving you wondering if they’re saving the world or just losing their mind.

Too Woke To Function

William A Ferguson: synthesizers, keyboards, electronics and electronic percussion.

Hey SoundCloud fam, let’s dive into the latest drama fueling “No Sorry Left To Say”—the fiery feud between J.K. Rowling and Emma Watson. It kicked off when Watson, now 35 and a vocal activist, dropped a nuanced olive branch on Jay Shetty’s On Purpose podcast last week, reflecting on their Harry Potter bond despite their trans rights clash. She admitted the rift “hurts” but treasured Rowling’s past kindness, saying she’d never “cancel” her—only to have Rowling fire back with a 700-word X rant. Rowling slammed Watson’s “privilege” as a multimillionaire at 14, contrasting it with her own poverty-stricken days writing the series, and called out a 2020 handwritten apology note as hollow amid the hate she faced, accusing Watson of fueling the fire then playing nice.

This isn’t just personal—it’s a five-year ideological war. Rowling’s “gender critical” stance, rooted in her experiences with domestic abuse, pits her against Watson’s trans-inclusive feminism, with Rowling seeing Watson’s 2020 tweet as a betrayal amplified by fame. The timing’s key too—anti-trans sentiment is gaining traction, giving Rowling a bolder stage to hit back, especially targeting Watson over co-star Daniel Radcliffe, maybe with a gendered edge. For us fans, it’s a gut punch: the series’ themes of unity are lost in this mess. Rowling demands a public apology for peace, while Watson’s moved on to activism—leaving us wondering if this anthem’s vibe echoes their unresolved tension. 

What’s your take—drop it in the comments!



No Sorry Left To Say

I'm currently sitting on several thousand dollars of recording and mastering software, along with a shit ton of virtual synthesizers and virtual guitars (no, I don't actually play a real guitar, or a bass for that matter - diabetic neuropathy has all but robbed me of the dexterity to handle them; but I can scoot a mouse and draw lines and, while my body has basically gone to shit, my mind still works. I still have the knowledge to write music. I feel a lot like Stephen Hawking in that respect).

Anyhoo, to answer your question: Logic Pro X for Mac.

For the guitars, I use Native Instruments Vintage, Electric Mint, Electric Sunburst, Acoustic+Nylon Picked and Acoustic Strummed.

I use EZBass for my bass tracks and Native Instrument Acoustic Bass.

For the synthesizers, I have (virtual) an Arp 2600, Moog Mini and Modular V, Synthi V, Buchla Easel, Fairlight CMI from Arturia.

25 years ago, had I developed Diabetes and the associated neuropathy that robbed me of the ability to play bass and guitar, I probably wouldn't be here talking to you right now as I would have pretty much unalived myself as life would have been unbearable at that point.

Thankfully, I now have the technology to keep my hand in the music game.

And how bad is my diabetes? Upon diagnosis my A1C was 11.5 and I was coming down off a 500+ point glucose level. It's amazing I didn't lapse into a diabetic coma.

And how bad is my neuropathy?

I can barely write my name, filling out forms is a chore. I have to have someone do that for me.

My balance is nearly fucked as I have difficulty standing and/or walking. Riding a bike or a motorcycle is out of the question.

It has affected my vision.

My feet are in constant pain, especially my left foot that feels like stepping on broken glass all the time, and did I mention my fingers don't work anymore?

Basically, having been dealt a shitty hand, I didn't give up - I fought back.

Too Woke To Function

William A Ferguson

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