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 Senegal and from Woodstock.
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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Sandy B to the dance kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo. All the underground hits.
All Drexciya tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Slick Rick record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Magma record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Buzzcocks,
Dead Boys,
Alphaville,
Kaleidoscope,
Anakelly,
Brothers Johnson,
Magma,
Glenn Branca,
Inner City,
Steve Hackett,
Mars,
Todd Terry,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Knickerbockers,
Aswad,
Funkadelic,
Qualms,
Ken Boothe,
The Kinks,
the Slits,
Talk Talk,
The Misunderstood,
Don Cherry,
Janne Schatter,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Grandmaster Flash,
Mantronix,
Kenny Larkin,
X-Ray Spex,
The Gun Club,
Joe Finger,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Oneida,
Vladislav Delay,
La Düsseldorf,
Easy Going,
Carl Craig,
Pere Ubu,
Pantytec,
Shuggie Otis,
The Cowsills,
Eddi Front,
Max Romeo,
The Zeros,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Wasted Youth,
Minny Pops,
the Soft Cell,
Pylon,
B.T. Express,
The Modern Lovers,
Yazoo,
8 Eyed Spy,
Crime,
Von Mondo,
KRS-One,
The Monks,
Gregory Isaacs,
DJ Sneak,
Half Japanese,
Mark Hollis,
Mr. Review, Mr. Review, Mr. Review, Mr. Review.
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.