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 Nauru and from Spokane.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch to the electroclash 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 The Buckinghams. All the underground hits.
All Ituana tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sparks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a U.S. Maple record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Matthew Halsall,
Half Japanese,
Avey Tare,
Von Mondo,
Inner City,
DJ Sneak,
Leonard Cohen,
Desert Stars,
Malaria!,
the Fania All-Stars,
Be Bop Deluxe,
These Immortal Souls,
Crispian St. Peters,
The American Breed,
Marine Girls,
Buzzcocks,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Newcleus,
Visage,
Brand Nubian,
Swell Maps,
David McCallum,
EPMD,
The Count Five,
Flash Fearless,
Flipper,
Harmonia,
Con Funk Shun,
John Lydon,
Hoover,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Juan Atkins,
Roxette,
Davy DMX,
Rites of Spring,
Radio Birdman,
Lou Reed,
Pantytec,
Ronnie Foster,
Reagan Youth,
Chris Corsano,
The Cure,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
U.S. Maple,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Sonny Sharrock,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Dead Boys,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
D'Angelo,
Mandrill,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Crash Course in Science,
Sun Ra,
Quando Quango,
The Busters,
June of 44,
The Durutti Column,
Electric Prunes,
Stiv Bators,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Absolute Body Control, Absolute Body Control, Absolute Body Control, Absolute Body Control.
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.