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 East Timor and from Beijing.
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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Porter Ricks to the rap kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft. All the underground hits.
All Maleditus Sound tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jesper Dahlbäck 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Music Machine record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gastr Del Sol,
Pulsallama,
Junior Murvin,
Erasure,
Mark Hollis,
The American Breed,
The Slits,
Shoche,
Mary Jane Girls,
Banda Bassotti,
The Cosmic Jokers,
X-101,
Crispian St. Peters,
Tears for Fears,
Hasil Adkins,
The Zeros,
the Normal,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Eden Ahbez,
The Toasters,
Grauzone,
Joensuu 1685,
Ponytail,
the Sonics,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Busters,
ABBA,
Livin' Joy,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Sällskapet,
Vainqueur,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Todd Rundgren,
The Evens,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Raincoats,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Lalann,
The Associates,
The Monochrome Set,
Vladislav Delay,
Drexciya,
Donald Byrd,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Amon Düül,
The Gap Band,
Accadde A,
U.S. Maple,
Grey Daturas,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Martian,
James White and The Blacks,
The Cure,
Lou Reed,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Eve St. Jones,
Wings,
Thompson Twins,
Marcia Griffiths, Marcia Griffiths, Marcia Griffiths, Marcia Griffiths.
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.