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 Kiribati and from Cairo.
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 1963 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Teenage Jesus and the Jerks to the funk 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 Freddie Wadling. All the underground hits.
All Louis and Bebe Barron tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Desert Stars record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Beasts of Bourbon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cymande,
Derrick Morgan,
Soul Sonic Force,
Jeff Lynne,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Nirvana,
Magma,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Detroit Cobras,
OOIOO,
Toni Rubio,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Music Machine,
The Durutti Column,
Stereo Dub,
Laurel Aitken,
This Heat,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Wally Richardson,
Jacob Miller,
Crooked Eye,
the Sonics,
Mr. Review,
The Offenders,
Harry Pussy,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Velvet Underground,
The Fall,
Henry Cow,
Graham Central Station,
The Divine Comedy,
Delon & Dalcan,
DJ Sneak,
The American Breed,
Glenn Branca,
Deakin,
The Kinks,
The Zeros,
David Bowie,
These Immortal Souls,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Knickerbockers,
Ronnie Foster,
Sister Nancy,
Chrome,
One Last Wish,
Scion,
Kurtis Blow,
Basic Channel,
Cameo,
Zero Boys,
Wings,
Jeru the Damaja,
Prince Buster,
R.M.O.,
Grauzone,
Tom Boy,
Bootsy Collins,
Matthew Bourne, Matthew Bourne, Matthew Bourne, Matthew Bourne.
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.