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 Thailand and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 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 The Pretty Things to the funk 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 Brand Nubian. All the underground hits.
All Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Durutti Column 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 theremin and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Unrelated Segments record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rod Modell,
Bush Tetras,
The Toasters,
New York Dolls,
Bill Near,
Brass Construction,
New Age Steppers,
Buzzcocks,
Sällskapet,
Blancmange,
Terry Callier,
Neil Young,
Sparks,
Kerrie Biddell,
Circle Jerks,
Sex Pistols,
MDC,
Scientists,
Goldenarms,
Unwound,
Angry Samoans,
Throbbing Gristle,
Thee Headcoats,
48th St. Collective,
Radiohead,
The Leaves,
Procol Harum,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Sun City Girls,
John Holt,
Amon Düül II,
The Victims,
Wally Richardson,
Half Japanese,
Tomorrow,
John Coltrane,
Motorama,
Youth Brigade,
Jawbox,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Letta Mbulu,
Japan,
Crash Course in Science,
F. McDonald,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Gang Gang Dance,
Funky Four + One,
The Residents,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Black Dice,
Deakin,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Organ,
Crooked Eye,
Eddi Front,
Rapeman,
The Martian,
Theoretical Girls,
Kenny Larkin,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Oblivians, Oblivians, Oblivians, Oblivians.
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.