Hey folks! Gather ‘round (metaphorically—no need to leave your couch). We’ve got something shiny for you: Profile Badges! Starting today, you might spot these little icons next to names. Think of them as your community scout badges—except with fewer mosquito bites and more bragging rights.

Ever answered a question at 2 AM? Congrats, you’re a night owl and a top contributor in the making. Boom, “Newbie No More” badge unlocked. Some of you clearly deserve a “Keyboard Warrior” trophy (but badges will have to do). 🏆

Here’s the Deal:

• New Member: For fresh faces. Welcome! We promise not to flood your inbox (just your heart with joy).

• Top Contributor: You’ve engaged so much, we’re considering a caffeine IV drip sponsorship. ☕

• Chatterbox: Commented on every thread? Teach us your ways. 🗣️
  … and more! (Still workshopping ideas.). How about “Most Likely to Accidentally Reply ‘You Too’ to a Happy Birthday Post”?)

But Wait—This is Beta!

We’re testing the waters. Badges might pop up, change, or vanish. Don’t panic! It’s not a glitch—it’s us “innovating” (read: Googling “how to adult”).

Your Feedback = 💖

Love ‘em? Hate ‘em? Think they should sparkle and play jazz hands? Tell us! We’re all ears (and slightly sleep-deprived).

Ready to flex your new bling? Let’s go! 🚀

You see, those feathery city-dwellers who strut around like they own the sidewalk and coo like they’re gossiping about your gardening skills. Their signature sound—soft, rhythmic, and just a little bit judgy—is weirdly charming. Maybe you want to add that organic, urban vibe to a track, or perhaps you’re just curious how to turn synth beeps into bird noises. Either way, grab a coffee (or a breadcrumb snack, if you’re feeling avian), and let’s recreate that pigeon coo using Sylenth1.

Step 1: Setting Up the Oscillators (Or, “Why Sine Waves Are a Pigeon’s Best Friend”)

Pigeon coos are smooth, rounded, and slightly wobbly—like a hum that’s had too much espresso. To nail this, we’ll start with Oscillator 1. Set the waveform to sine. This gives us that pure, soft tone, like the pigeon’s voice before it remembers it’s late for a rooftop meeting. Crank the voices up to 5 and detune them just enough to create a subtle chorus effect. Imagine five tiny pigeons harmonizing in your synth.

Now, hop over to Oscillator 2. Same deal: sine wave, 5 voices, but this time, shift the phase to 62 degrees. This adds a slight timing offset between the oscillators, mimicking the natural waver in a real coo. Think of it as one pigeon starting the gossip and another chiming in half a beat later.

Step 2: Shaping the Sound with Envelopes (Or, “How to Make a Synth Sound Like It’s Breathing”)

Pigeon coos don’t just start—they swell in, linger, and fade out like a nosy neighbor slowly closing their window. Head to the amplitude envelope and dial in these settings:

• Attack: 0.777 (a gentle rise, like the pigeon inhaling dramatically).

• Decay: 4.791 (the coo peaks, then mellows out).

• Sustain: 0.610 (it holds that mid-volume hum).

• Release: 0.782 (the sound trails off like a pigeon realizing you’re out of crumbs).

This envelope gives the coo its “living” quality. Without it, you’d have a flat beep—and pigeons are anything but boring.

Step 3: Filters—Because Pigeons Don’t Sing in Hi-Fi

Real pigeon coos aren’t crystal clear. They’re muffled, mid-focused, and slightly gritty, as if filtered through a layer of feathers and existential dread. Click on Filter A, set it to band pass, and adjust the cutoff to 4.9 and resonance to 2.2. Choose the 12 dB option to keep things smooth. This carves out the harsh highs and rumbly lows, leaving that signature mid-range “murr” sound.

Now, under Filter Control, nudge the cutoff to 4.753 and resonance to 4.467. Activate Warm Drive to add a touch of analog-style grit. It’s like giving your pigeon a cup of strong coffee—suddenly, its coo has attitude.

Step 4: Modulation—The Secret to Pigeon Drama

Pigeons aren’t robots (though they do have a killer poker face). To add movement, we’ll use Modulation Envelope 1. Assign it to the filter’s cutoff at -5.067 and set the envelope:

• Attack: 1.965 (the filter opens slowly, like a curious pigeon peeking around a corner).

• Decay: 2.000 (it settles into the main tone).

• Sustain: 5.227 (it holds that open-filter warmth).

• Release: 10 (the sound closes gently, like a pigeon tucking its head under a wing).

Next, Modulation Envelope 2 gets assigned to pitch at -5.6. Set the attack to 0, decay to 0.045, sustain to 0, and release to 10. This creates a quick pitch drop at the start of each note, mimicking the “gurgle” in a coo. It’s the audio equivalent of a pigeon tripping over a twig but playing it cool.

Step 5: LFOs—Because Even Pigeons Have Mood Swings

Time to wobble. LFO 1 should have a rate of 1/8, a gain of 3.933, and a sine waveform. Assign it to pitch at 4.6 for a gentle vibrato. This mimics the tiny fluctuations in a pigeon’s voice when it’s debating whether to fly away or demand your sandwich.

LFO 2 uses a ramp waveform at a 1/16 rate and 9.7 gain, assigned to cutoff at -4.4. This creates a rhythmic “pulsing” in the filter, like the coo is bouncing off brick walls. Pair this with a smirk, because you’re basically giving your pigeon synth a heartbeat.

Step 6: FX & EQ—The Urban Grit

Pigeons aren’t recording in pristine studios—they’re out here surviving city life. Add a Bit Crusher with an amount of 3.5 and dry/wet at 38%. This grates on the sound, like your pigeon coo is coming through an old intercom.

For the EQ, use a 2-pole curve. Boost the bass by 0.3 dB at 75 Hz (for a subtle chestiness) and the treble by 3.2 dB at 1.5 kHz (to highlight the coo’s “texture”). Now it sounds like your pigeon is perched on a fire escape, not trapped in a synth plugin.

Step 7: Save, Tweak, and Release Your Inner Pigeon

Once everything’s set, save your preset as “City Pigeon Supreme” or something equally ridiculous. Play with the knobs—maybe nudge the LFO rate faster for a nervous bird or slower for a zen pigeon meditating on a power line.

And if your first attempt sounds more like a squeaky door than a bird, don’t panic. My cat once hissed at my early version, so you’re in good company. Practice, tweak, and remember: pigeons aren’t perfect, and neither does your sound need to be.

Preset Download: If you’d rather skip the tweaking and get straight to cooing, download the preset HERE. Load it into Sylenth1, and prepare for your tracks to sound like a rooftop symphony.

Now go forth and make some pigeon magic. And if anyone asks why you’re obsessed with bird sounds, just say you’re “exploring urban soundscapes.” They’ll nod respectfully, and you’ll know the truth. 🐦✨

I tried to recreate the sound of my neighbor’s leaf blower fighting a hairdryer. Why? Because I needed a whoosh-clank-hiss noise for a video project, and nothing in my sample library sounded "angry" enough. After three cups of coffee and one accidental synth preset that made my dog bark at the speakers, I finally figured it out. This "Cyclone Air Violence" effect is the kind of noise you’d use for robot tantrums, sci-fi machine glitches, or making your Zoom meetings sound like they’re happening inside a broken spaceship. Let’s get into it.

Step 1: Pick the Noisiest Oscillators

Open Sylenth1 and reset everything. For Oscillator A1, choose the Noise waveform (not a typo—it’s that gritty one in the list). Set the voices to 4. This isn’t for harmony; it’s for layering static, like four radios tuned to different dead channels. For Oscillator A2, also grab Noise, but bump the voices to 6 and set the phase to 94 degrees. Now it’s six radios arguing with each other. Perfect.

Step 2: Make It Loud, Then Quiet

Go to the Amp Envelope. Set Attack to 0.05 (so it starts immediately, like someone slamming a car door), Decay to 10 (so it fades out slowly, like a car alarm dying in the distance), Sustain to 0 (no lingering), and Release to 0.6 (so it doesn’t cut off suddenly). This shape makes the sound burst in, overstay its welcome, then leave without saying goodbye.

Step 3: Filter Out the Annoying Bits

In Filter A, set Cutoff to 4.5 kHz and Resonance to 3.8. Crank Drive to 3.1. This turns the noise from "static mess" to "angry robot clearing its throat." Under Filter Control, set Cutoff to 4.6 kHz and Resonance to 7.1, then flip Warm Drive ON. Now it sounds less like a robot and more like a robot that’s been oiled.

Step 4: Make It Move (So It Doesn’t Sound Flat)

Use the Modulation Envelope. Assign it to Filter Cutoff with a value of -2.7. Set Attack to 0, Decay to 3.2, Sustain to 0, and Release to 0. This makes the sound start sharp and get muffled over time, like someone throwing a blanket over the angry robot.

Step 5: Add Two LFOs for Chaos

LFO 1: Choose SmpHold, set Rate to 1/1 (synced to your project tempo), Gain to 2.7, and assign to Cutoff at -3.4. This adds a jerky, stuttering effect—like a CD skipping inside a microwave.
LFO 2: Pick Lorenz (the wobbly one), set Rate to 1/8, Gain to 6.6, and assign to Cutoff at -2.6. Now the sound wobbles unpredictably, like a washing machine walking down stairs.

Step 6: Rough It Up (But Not Too Much)

Add Bitcrush distortion: Amount at 5, Wet at 0.2. This gives the sound a crunchy edge, like stepping on dry leaves. Then turn on the Chorus: Time at 8.8 ms, rate at 0.6 Hz, depth at 40%, dual mode ON, width at 100%, wet at 30%. This makes the noise feel like it’s spinning around your ears.

Step 7: Test It (And Scare Someone)

Hit a note. If it sounds like a vacuum cleaner having an existential crisis, you’re done. If not, tweak the decay time or LFO rates. Too harsh? Lower the resonance. Too boring? Turn up the drive.

Download the Preset
Don’t want to build it yourself? Grab the preset here and drop it into your project. Use it for game sound effects, video transitions, or to prank your roommate when they’re trying to nap.

Final thought: Pair this with a deep bass "boom," and you’ve got instant drama. Or just use it to announce your coffee breaks. Either way, it’s a win. 🍃💥

May your noise always be noisy.

I thought DJing was all about spinning records and looking cool: I was wrong. There’s a lot more to it than just waving your hands around like you’re conducting an invisible orchestra. It all started with a cheap MIDI controller, a dream, and a whole lot of confusion.

One lazy Sunday afternoon, I was sitting in my tiny home studio, staring at my computer screen, trying to figure out how to make my beats sound less…robotic. I wanted that raw, gritty texture you hear in hip-hop tracks—the kind that makes you feel like you’re standing in a dimly lit club, surrounded by people who actually know how to dance. But here’s the thing: I didn’t own turntables, and my scratching skills were, well, nonexistent.

That’s when I stumbled upon Xfer Serum. If you’re not familiar, Serum is this magical synth that lets you create sounds so rich and detailed, it’s like having a full orchestra in your laptop. But I didn’t just want any old sound. I wanted that sound—the one that makes people stop and say, “Wait, is that real vinyl?”

I discovered a way to make Serum produce hyper-realistic vinyl scratches without needing a turntable or a degree in sound engineering.

HERE’S HOW IT WORKS:

First, forget everything you’ve seen online about using the noise section to create scratches. Sure, it works, but it sounds about as authentic as a plastic tree. Instead, I dug deeper into Serum’s capabilities, using its powerful wavetable and modulation features to replicate the gritty texture of real vinyl. That gives scratches that feel like they’ve been ripped straight from a DJ’s turntable.

These presets aren’t just for one genre—but for hip-hop, EDM, or even turntablism-style production. These sounds adapt effortlessly for adding a subtle scratch to a beat or going full-on DJ mode. Also, the HS-crush effects, which add that essential distortion and character to your scratches. It’s like giving your tracks a pair of worn-in sneakers—they just feel right.

The best part is that you don’t need any fancy equipment. No turntables, no vinyl, no mess. Just load the presets into Serum, tweak a few knobs, and you’re ready to scratch like a pro. It’s instant playability at its finest.

Now, I know what you’re thinking: “This sounds too good to be true.” But don’t just take my word for it. Here’s what DJ X had to say: “I’ve been using DJ scratch sounds for years, but nothing compares to the realism of these Serum presets. They feel like real vinyl, adding that authentic DJ vibe to my tracks!”

So, if you’re ready to take your music to the next level, head over to my Serum Vinyl DJ Scratch Presets download section. These presets are exclusive, unique, and designed to bring the turntable experience straight into your DAW. Trust me, your tracks will thank you.

Probably creating from scratch is what you're looking for, then go here to learn how to make Serum Vinyl DJ Scratch Presets now!

Happy scratching!

A few years back, I fell in love with a song that felt like it’d been made by musical wizards. You know the type—the kind of track that makes you wonder, "Who even thinks of these melodies?" But it wasn’t magic. It was a producer named Clara, a songwriter named Diego, and a session guitarist who probably drinks way too much coffee. But figuring that out was its own adventure.

See, I used to think musicians only earned cash by playing live shows. Then I learned about royalties, sync deals, and that mysterious thing called publishing. Suddenly, credits mattered. If Clara, Diego, or Coffee Guitarist weren’t properly listed, they’d miss out on earnings every time someone streamed, covered, or hummed their song in the shower. But how do you even find those names? Here’s what I’ve learned—sometimes the hard way to check song credits or to know who else produced a song.

Spotify’s Hidden Treasure (No, Not the Music)

One lazy afternoon, I clicked the three dots next to a song title on Spotify out of sheer boredom. Lo and behold, “View Credits” popped up like a secret door. Inside, there is a list of names: writers, producers, even the studio engineer who probably tweaked the snare drum for three hours. It’s like finding the “Special Thanks” section of a movie but for your ears. Now I check it constantly. (I once discovered my neighbor’s cousin co-wrote a viral TikTok hit. Small world.)

It's also where you’ll spot ghost producers—the unsung heroes who make tracks in the shadows. Take David Guetta’s early EDM bangers. Tracks like “Titanium” or “Where Them Girls At” list collaborators like Giorgio Tuinfort or Frédéric Riesterer in the credits, even if their names aren’t splashed on the album cover. Or KSHMR, who ghost-produced for massive artists before becoming a festival headliner himself. These folks might not show up on the master recording’s label, but they’re hiding in plain sight in the credits.

When In Doubt, Ask a Music Nerd (Or Visit Discogs)

Discogs is where music lovers go to geek out. Think of it as Wikipedia’s cooler cousin who owns every vinyl ever pressed. I’ve spent hours there digging through credits for obscure ’80s synthpop bands. It’s user-curated, so details can get wildly specific. Ever wanted to know who played tambourine on a B-side from 1997? Discogs knows. It’s also a goldmine for indie artists—I once found my friend’s basement-recorded EP listed next to a Madonna album. Surreal, but proof everyone gets a seat at the table.

Lyric Sites: Not Just for Karaoke

I used to visit lyric sites to avoid butchering high notes in my car. Then I noticed tiny text at the bottom: “Written by [Name], Produced by [Other Name].” Sites like Musixmatch or LyricFind don’t just help you nail (oops—land) the chorus. They’re low-key credit detectives. I once googled a producer listed there and found out he’d also worked on my childhood favorite TV theme song. Life came full circle that day.

Jaxsta (Or, “Why Can’t I Have Nice Things For Free?”)

Jaxsta was my gateway drug into music credits. I signed up, marveled at its sleek database, then promptly learned it’s now subscription-only. Cue sad trombone. But their partnership with Vampr means some features live on. Still, it’s a reminder that accurate credits are valuable—literally. Professionals use tools like this because missing a name can mean missing a paycheck. Case in point: ever heard of Avicii’s breakout hit “Wake Me Up”? The credits quietly include Dutch producer Michael Aaron Einziger, proving even chart-toppers often have hidden architects.

Muso.ai: For When You’re Fancy (But Not Too Fancy)

Muso.ai is the future, minus the robot overlords. It’s a hub for credits, collaboration, and—yes—even some AI magic. For serious creators, it’s a solid way to track who did what, especially if you’re working with folks across time zones. Just don’t let the AI steal your job.

Why This All Matters (Besides Bragging Rights)

Credits are legal proof you helped make the thing. If you’re a songwriter or producer, proper credits ensure you get paid when the song’s on the radio, in a commercial, or soundtracking someone’s questionable dance moves. But even if your distributor lists your name, you still need to join a Performance Rights Organization (ASCAP, BMI, etc.) and a publishing administrator. Otherwise, royalties might as well be hiding in your couch cushions.

This is doubly true for ghost producers. Imagine creating a track that becomes the backbone of a Billboard hit, only to miss out on royalties because your name wasn’t in the credits. Oof. That’s why platforms like Spotify’s credit section or Jaxsta matter—they’re the paper trail that connects your work to your wallet.

So, next time you’re vibing to a track, peek behind the curtain. See who’s there. And if you’re creating music, double-check those credits, then get yourself registered. Because Coffee Guitarist—and every behind-the-scenes beat wizard—deserves their latte money.

P.S. If you’re ready to stop losing track of your royalties, check out Songtrust. They handle the publishing admin stuff so you can focus on making music—or, you know, figuring out how to program that synth loop without owl noises.

Monsters are real.

Not under your bed, maybe, but definitely in movies, games, and that podcast your cousin won’t stop talking about.

Hi, I’m Hewlaq, a sound designer who’s spent the last decade making growls, howls, and unidentifiable screeches that’ll make your hair stand up. Monster sounds so raw; they’ll have you checking the closet before bed.

Why Monster Sounds Are Every Creator’s Secret Weapon

Monsters aren’t just for jump scares. They’re the heartbeat of tension in horror films, the “oh no” moment in video games, and the reason audiences lean closer. A great monster sound is a character. Think about the last time a movie creature made your spine tingle. Chances are, it wasn’t the CGI claws. It was the guttural rumble you felt in your teeth. That’s the magic we’re chasing.

Why My Sounds Don’t Sound Like Your Uncle’s Garage Band

I don’t use samples. Or even presets, most days. Every growl, roar, and eerie whisper in my library comes from analog synthesizers (plugins)—the kind with knobs, and a bad habit of shocking me when I forget to ground them. These virtual machines are finicky, unpredictable, and glorious. Because they’re analog, no two sounds are identical. That demonic purr you hear is a one-of-a-kind recipe of oscillators, filters, and my questionable life choices during a 3 a.m. recording session.

Where These Sounds Come Alive

Imagine an indie game developer using my “Swamp Beast Howl” to make players drop their controllers. Or a haunted house team syncing my “Alien Hive Drones” to a flickering light. I’ve even had a baker use my “Ghostly Wail” in a Halloween cookie ad (true story—those cookies sold out). These sounds aren’t just for “scary” projects. Throw a distorted growl under a corporate training video, and suddenly, compliance guidelines feel way more intense.

“Wait, you made that noise?!”–Happy Clients

A filmmaker once emailed me, “Used your ‘Dragon’s Cough’ sound in my short film. The lead actor thought we’d mic’d up an actual bear. We didn’t correct him.” Another client, a game developer, joked that my “Robot Zombie Chitter” caused their playtesters to develop a new phobia of ceiling vents. My favorite? A teacher who used my “Gentle Giant Whimper” to teach kids about empathy. Monsters have layers, people.

How to Grab These Sounds (Without Summoning Actual Demons)

• Head to my Pond5 "Monsters" section here.
• Browse the growls, clicks, and things that go thump in the night (Pro tip: don’t do this at 2 a.m. with headphones on.)
• Download the ones that make your project’s hair stand on end.
• Blame me when your audience starts sleeping with the lights on.

Go Make Something Unforgettable

Monster sounds are more than background noise—they’re the secret sauce that turns “meh” into “WHAT WAS THAT?!” Whether you’re crafting a game, film, or experimental polka album, my analog synth creations are here to add a little chaos. Refer to the collection, and remember: if your neighbors hear growling through the walls, tell them it’s just the microwave.

Click here to raid the monster vault. (No actual microwaves were harmed in the making of these sounds.)

Sometimes, the most random sounds are the most fun to recreate. A referee whistle might not be the first thing you think of when opening your synth, but trust me, it’s oddly satisfying to make. Plus, it’s a sound that can be used in so many ways—think video games, sound effects for animations, or even pranking your friends during a heated game night.

So, let’s roll up our sleeves and get whistling… well, sort of.

A referee's whistle sound is so distinct. It’s sharp, piercing, and has a quick attack with a short decay. It’s not a smooth or mellow sound—it’s meant to grab your attention, much like when your mom used to call your full name from across the house. You know, the tone that made you stop whatever mischief you were up to.

Now, open up Sylenth1, and let’s start making this sound. Don’t worry, we’ll keep it simple and straightforward.

Step 1: Set Up the AMP Envelope

We’ll start by leaving the AMP envelope as it is. No need to tweak it here—the default settings are just fine, like when you find a pair of socks that actually match without digging through the laundry basket.

Step 2: Oscillator 1—The Sine Wave

Head over to Oscillator 1 and set it to a sine wave. A sine wave is smooth and pure, kind of like the sound you’d hear in a meditation app, but we’re about to twist it into something far less relaxing. This will be the base of our whistle sound.

Step 3: Filter Settings

Now, let’s move to the filter section. Set the filter type to a 4-pole low-pass (LP) filter. Adjust the cutoff to 6.8, the resonance to 9.367, and the drive to 6.3. These settings will help shape the sharpness and intensity of the whistle. Think of it as turning up the “annoying but necessary” dial.

Step 4: Filter Control

Next, tweak the filter control settings. Set the cutoff to 4.5, resonance to 6.3, and drive to 1. This will fine-tune the sound, giving it that distinct whistle character. It’s like adjusting the focus on a camera—just a little nudge to make everything clearer.

Step 5: Modulation Envelope 1

Time to set up Modulation Envelope 1. Adjust the cutoff to -1.3 and set the amplitude envelope with an attack of 0, decay of 0, sustain at 10, and release at 0.5. This will give the whistle its quick, sharp attack and a short tail, much like the sound of a real whistle cutting through the air.

Step 6: Modulation Envelope 2

Now, let’s move to Modulation Envelope 2. Set the pitch to -1.7, attack to 1.3, decay to 0, sustain to 10, and release to 0. This will add a slight pitch modulation to the whistle, making it sound more dynamic and realistic. It’s like adding a little wobble to the sound, but not so much that it sounds like a broken kazoo.

Step 7: Add Some Effects

To polish the sound, let’s add a touch of reverb and a light compressor. The reverb will give the whistle a slight sense of space, as if it’s being blown in a gym or on a field. The compressor will help even out the dynamics, ensuring the sound is consistent and punchy.

Final Thoughts

And there you have it—a referee whistle sound that’s ready to call fouls, start races, or just annoy your cat. It’s amazing how a few tweaks in a synth can recreate something so familiar.

If you’d like to skip the steps and grab the preset, you can download it here. Now go forth and whistle to your heart’s content—just maybe not during a movie night.

Happy sound designing! 🎛️🎶

You’re watching a cartoon where a confused puppy tries to imitate a midnight howl. The result is a squeaky, wobbly “aroo-hoo” that’s equal parts adorable and slightly unhinged. That’s the “dog howl” sound, the audio version of a doodle. Use it for animations, game character noises, or even as your phone’s “I’m pretending to be a forest creature” notification tone.

Let’s build this oddball sound together.

Step 1: OSC 1—The “Left-Side Puppy”

Open Sylenth1 and focus on OSC 1. Select a sawtooth wave, then crank the voices up to 6. Dial the detune to 0.7—this adds a playful wobble, like a puppy learning to howl off-key. Pan this oscillator hard left (around -3.5). Now it sounds like your “dog howl” is echoing from the left side of your ears.

Step 2: OSC 2—The “Right-Side Howl”

For OSC 2, stick with another sawtooth and 6 voices, but shift the phase to 84 degrees. This tweak creates a subtle “shadow” effect, as if the howling part of the creature is answering itself. Set the detune to 0.5 and pan it to the right (3.6). Now the sound has stereo mischief—like two voices playfully colliding in your headphones.

Step 3: AMP ENV—The “Nap Time” Curve

Adjust the amp envelope to 3 attack, 6 decay, 0 sustain, and 1 release. This makes the sound wake up slowly (like a dog stretching), hang around just long enough to let out a howl, then vanish as if it remembered it left the oven on. Zero sustain means no lingering—this howling hybrid is briefly committed.

Step 4: Filter—The “Midnight Bandpass”

Switch the filter to bandpass mode. Set resonance to 5.2 to emphasize the midrange—the sweet spot where barks and howls collide. It’s like putting a megaphone in front of your creature, but in a classy way.

Step 5: Filter Control—“Warmth & Grit”

Bump the cutoff to 4.5 and crank resonance to 9. Flip the “Warm Drive” on. This adds a cozy fuzz, like the sound is wearing a tiny flannel shirt. Suddenly, your howling pup isn’t just quirky—it’s got character.

Step 6: MOD ENV 1—The “Morning Coffee” Effect

Route MOD ENV 1 to phase (-6) and resonance (10). Set attack and decay to 4, sustain to 0.1, and release to 3. This makes the sound “twitch” at the start, as if it’s startled by its own existence. Think of it as the audio equivalent of spilling coffee on your lap.

Step 7: MOD ENV 2—“Pitch Drama”

Assign MOD ENV 2 to pitch (1.2) and cutoff (-2). Use 4 attack, 10 decay, 4.5 sustain, and 0 release. Now the pitch wobbles upward before crashing down, like the creature attempted a heroic high note… and failed.

Step 8: LFO—The “Head Tilt” Wobble

Set the LFO to a triangle shape, rate 8/1, intensity -1.7, and gain 10. Link it to… well, everything. This adds a drunken sway to the sound, as if your howling pup is tilting its head, confused by its own life choices.

Step 9: Reverb & Compressor—“Forest Glue”

Add a light in-house reverb (imagine a small, echoey treehouse) and a gentle compressor to keep the chaos in check. Now your howling dog isn’t just floating in space—it’s lurking in a cartoon forest, judging your life decisions.

Download the Preset & Go Wild

If your brain feels like a pretzel after all these steps, grab the preset here and reverse-engineer it. Tweak the knobs. Make it weirder. Name it “Sir Aroo-a-Lot.” And if your neighbors give you side-eye when testing the sound, just blame it on the dog. They’ll never know.

Happy sound-design mischief! 🐾

So, you want to make an owl screech in Sylenth1 — not for music, but maybe for a podcast intro, a creepy indie game, or to scare your neighbor’s overly confident cat off your lawn? Perfect. I once tried recording real owls at midnight for a project and ended up with 90% rustling leaves and 10% “Is that a raccoon?”.

Owl screeches are sharp, and slightly unhinged — like a tea kettle left on the stove too long. We’re aiming for that high-pitched, warbling texture that makes you glance over your shoulder. Think haunted forests, not Harry Potter.

Step 1: OSC 1 — The Base Layer

Start with OSC 1: select a saw wave, crank the voices to 8, and set detune to 2.1. Pan this guy -5.2 to the left. This creates a wobbly, unstable foundation — like the owl had one too many espresso shots. Detune mimics natural imperfections because real owls don’t care about perfect pitch.

Step 2: OSC 2 — The Chaos Twin

Duplicate OSC 1’s saw wave, but give it 42 degrees of phase and 3.0 detune, then pan it +2.3 to the right. Now your owl has stereo width, as if it’s swooping around your head. The phase shift adds a subtle metallic edge, like claws on a chalkboard.

Step 3: AMP ENV — Quick Bites

Set the amp envelope to 0.7 attack, 0 decay, 10 sustain, and 0.1 release. The screech hits fast, stays loud (owls don’t whisper), and cuts off abruptly. Imagine the owl yelling, “TAKE OUT THE TRASH,” and then vanishing.

Step 4: Filter — Carve the Scream

Use a bandpass filter with a cutoff at 4 and a resonance at 10. This focuses on the mid-to-high frequencies, stripping away the “mud” and leaving the piercing core. It’s like giving the sound a caffeine-only diet.

Step 5: Filter Control — Warmth & Grit

Bump the filter cutoff and reso to 4.8 and turn on warm drive to add a subtle growl without turning the owl into a chainsaw. Warm drive is the difference between “spooky” and “haunted lawnmower.”

Step 6: MOD ENV 1 — Movement Matters

Route MOD ENV 1 to the filter cutoff with 1.7 intensity. Set the envelope to 2.6 attack, 10 decay/sustain/release. The screech should start thin, then swell into full terror — like the owl’s approaching from a distance.

Step 7: MOD ENV 2 — Resonance Shivers

Assign MOD ENV 2 to filter resonance at -0.6 intensity, with 5 attack and 0 decay/release. This briefly dulls the resonance after the initial hit, mimicking the natural “drop” in a real screech.

Step 8: LFO — Unpredictable Flutter

Use the Lorenz LFO (chaos mode!) at a 1/256T rate and assign it to cutoff with 2.2 intensity. This adds erratic warbles, like the owl’s debating whether to haunt you or your Wi-Fi router.

Step 9: Distortion & Polish

Slap on bitcrush distortion at 4.5 for a gritty, digital rasp. Then, add a subtle chorus and light compressor to glue it together. The chorus widens the sound, while the compressor ensures your owl doesn’t peak like a startled YouTuber.

Final Step: Download the Preset!

If you’d rather skip the tweaking, grab the preset here. I’ve seen folks on Reddit threads begging for unique sound effects, so consider this Sylenth1 preset your contribution to the “spooky animal noises” archive.

Bonus Tip

Pair this screech with reverb and a forest ambiance track, and you’ve got instant “abandoned cabin” vibes.

This is something we all hear daily but rarely think about: the majestic whoosh-gurgle-slurp of a toilet flushing. Why bother recreating it? Maybe you’re scoring a quirky indie game set in a bathroom, or perhaps you’re pranking your roommate with “haunted plumbing” sound effects. Either way, Sylenth1 can turn this everyday noise into synth magic—no wrenches or plungers needed. Trust me, I once tried recording an actual flush at 3 AM and woke up my entire apartment building. Synthesizing it is much quieter.

Step 1: Layering the Foundation with Oscillators
Start by loading Sylenth1 and initializing a fresh preset. For Oscillator 1, set the waveform to a sine wave. Crank the “Voices” knob to 5, drop the octave to -1, and nudge the detune to 2.6. This creates a wobbly, layered effect—like five tiny waterfalls arguing over who gets to drain first. Oscillator 2 also uses a sine wave but bumps the voices to 8 and shifts the phase to 43 degrees. Think of this as the “echo” of the flush, where water spirals down the pipe with a subtle, metallic shimmer.

Step 2: Shaping the Splash with the Amp Envelope
Next, tweak the AMP ENV. Set the attack to 3.3 (so the sound doesn’t burst in like your aunt at a family BBQ), decay to 7.2 (letting the flush fade naturally), sustain to 0 (no lingering hisses), and release to 1.1 (for a gentle tail-off). This envelope mimics the flush’s sudden start and gradual fade, like a dramatic actor exiting stage left.

Step 3: Filtering the Gurgle
Switch to the filter section and choose a bandpass type. Set the cutoff to 5.8, resonance to 7.4, and drive to 2.6. This carves out a hollow, midrange-heavy tone—imagine the sound of water fighting its way through a bend in the pipes. Turn on the Filter Control tab and adjust the cutoff to 3.7, resonance to 2.8, and enable “Warm Drive” for a touch of grit. Now it sounds less “synthy” and more “I swear there’s a toilet malfunctioning in my laptop.”

Step 4: Adding Movement with Modulation
Here’s where the magic happens. For MOD ENV 1, map it to both oscillator phases and pitches. Set the attack to 0.3 (quick!), decay to 1.1, sustain to 5.9, and release to 2.3. This makes the pitch wobble and phase shift over time, like water sloshing unpredictably. Then, assign LFO 1 (sine wave, 1/128D rate) to modulate the filter cutoff with a gain of 7. This adds a slow, swirling motion—like the final spin of water before it vanishes. LFO 2 (sine, 1/32D rate) gets a gain of 2 and nudges the pitch down by -2.4, creating occasional “droplet” dips in tone.

Step 5: Taming the Chaos with MOD ENV 2
Link MOD ENV 2 to both LFO rates and gains. Set the modulation to -3 for LFO 2’s rate and -3 for LFO 1’s gain. This reins in the wilder fluctuations, ensuring the sound doesn’t morph into a dubstep drop. Balance is key—unless you want your toilet flush to sound like it’s headbanging.

Step 6: Dirtying It Up (Literally)
Add a dash of distortion using the Overdrive effect. Keep it subtle—just enough to mimic the grumble of old pipes. For extra realism, slap on a chorus (to thicken the swirl), EQ (trim harsh highs), reverb, and compression (to glue it all together).

Download the preset and flush away!
If dialing in every knob sounds tedious, grab my 20 premade presets here. Tweak and use them to confuse your pets. Either way, you’ve just turned synth parameters into bathroom acoustics—and that’s weirdly impressive.

Now go forth and make some art. Or mischief. I won’t judge. 🚽