A Curious Condition

from by Edmund Hõbe

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If I was told that I shall die
And one last guaranteed wish remained
Then the one thing to satisfy
The one thing for which I would aim

Over here the organ would sit
And a monosynth on top would fit
My drums clockwise to the right
And right there in the opposite sight

My bass clarinet in her case
With the twelve string sharing the space
And the flute would find her own place
And all the signals would have a trace

A common one to the pedal of loops
Then I jump through all the set-up hoops
Once that is done I then sit down
To commence projection of the sounds

These make up the concert just for you
The sound of myself being true
The sound of myself being real
That comes with a mildly strange feel

When I've got the music to play
It's as if it enabled me to stay
The bold and freaky version of self
Unreleased by any other help

This is not about making money
This is not some kind of cunning
Path to world domination
No search for validation

I renounce pleasing others
Via insipid uninspired covers
Just my own original sounds
The drive to project them can't be drowned

You may like what you hear or you may not
But I hope you can see that I'm quite hot
From all the intensity and fire
That's converted by the amplifier

Into all the waves of sound - my last ones
That I play for you before I am done
But no actually I am not dying
But there's one thing for which I am vying

And therein lies my fatal flaw
I want to be loved, that's all!
That desire is such a tease
That's my condition, my art disease!


from Free Range Derangement, released May 19, 2017



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Edmund Hõbe Tartu, Estonia

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