Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Malawi and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1969 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968 at the first Can practice in a loft in Cologne.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Banda Bassotti to the rock kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Average White Band. All the underground hits.
All Motorama tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Beau Brummels record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Metal Thangz,
Quantec,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Absolute Body Control,
Ten City,
The Gladiators,
Radio Birdman,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Busters,
The American Breed,
Lindisfarne,
World's Most,
Dark Day,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
David Bowie,
Warren Ellis,
Babytalk,
Sister Nancy,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Henry Cow,
LL Cool J,
Gastr Del Sol,
Maurizio,
The Seeds,
Excepter,
Sam Rivers,
The Zeros,
DNA,
Q65,
Isaac Hayes,
Tommy Roe,
Scion,
Prince Buster,
The Standells,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Cal Tjader,
Swans,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Audionom,
New York Dolls,
Popol Vuh,
Smog,
Rekid,
Boz Scaggs,
Joyce Sims,
The Remains,
Nico,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Durutti Column,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Jeff Lynne,
Warsaw,
Circle Jerks,
Sparks,
OOIOO,
Wally Richardson,
Sun City Girls,
Steve Hackett,
The Electric Prunes,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Radiopuhelimet,
Sandy B, Sandy B, Sandy B, Sandy B.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.