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 New Zealand and from Winnipeg.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Boz Scaggs to the dance kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Groovy Waters. All the underground hits.
All Girls At Our Best! tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bush Tetras record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Dirtbombs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Faraquet,
Boredoms,
Infiniti,
Marvin Gaye,
The Index,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Offenders,
Joe Finger,
Easy Going,
Quando Quango,
Lower 48,
Brass Construction,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Golliwogs,
Lungfish,
The Count Five,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Chris Corsano,
Aural Exciters,
Bluetip,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Theoretical Girls,
Wings,
The Dead C,
Skriet,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Slits,
Derrick May,
Deadbeat,
Zapp,
Pierre Henry,
The Buckinghams,
Kevin Saunderson,
Ossler,
Funkadelic,
Livin' Joy,
The Monks,
Monolake,
The Trojans,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Terry Callier,
Junior Murvin,
Buzzcocks,
Ituana,
Model 500,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Aswad,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Delta 5,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Skaos,
Ultimate Spinach,
John Cale,
Hoover,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Birthday Party,
Jeff Mills,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Howard Jones,
The Wake, The Wake, The Wake, The Wake.
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.