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 Switzerland and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 1970 at the first Onyeabor practice in a loft in Enugu.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Chris Corsano to the electroclash 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 These Immortal Souls. All the underground hits.
All Janne Schatter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Masters at Work record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fugs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Flag,
Hoover,
The Victims,
One Last Wish,
Gil Scott Heron,
Zapp,
The Raincoats,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Girls At Our Best!,
Ronan,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Bill Near,
OOIOO,
The Dead C,
Pole,
Scratch Acid,
The Detroit Cobras,
Neil Young,
Franke,
Lindisfarne,
Ituana,
The Neon Judgement,
Lyres,
Parry Music,
Aswad,
Hasil Adkins,
Crispian St. Peters,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Smoke,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Standells,
Amon Düül II,
Technova,
Electric Prunes,
Ornette Coleman,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Flesh Eaters,
Morten Harket,
Andrew Hill,
Heaven 17,
Jerry's Kids,
The Selecter,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Au Pairs,
Black Sheep,
Bad Manners,
Tropical Tobacco,
Charles Mingus,
Pussy Galore,
This Heat,
Metal Thangz,
Jacques Brel,
X-Ray Spex,
Skarface,
Alison Limerick,
Excepter,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Pop Group,
The Monks,
Cal Tjader, Cal Tjader, Cal Tjader, Cal Tjader.
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.