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 Samoa and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1969 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Kerri Chandler to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 H. Thieme. All the underground hits.
All LL Cool J tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eric Dolphy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Moebius record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Deepchord,
Amon Düül,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Robert Hood,
Aswad,
Brothers Johnson,
Icehouse,
Fatback Band,
The Index,
Bush Tetras,
The Evens,
Quantec,
Bill Wells,
Crash Course in Science,
Monolake,
kango's stein massive,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Funkadelic,
Lou Christie,
Marcia Griffiths,
Mission of Burma,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Animal Collective,
Guru Guru,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Malaria!,
The Gladiators,
Visage,
The Mojo Men,
Man Eating Sloth,
Pulsallama,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Smog,
The Misunderstood,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Rufus Thomas,
Ultravox,
Tres Demented,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Michelle Simonal,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Smoke,
U.S. Maple,
New Order,
Supertramp,
The Pretty Things,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Accadde A,
Subhumans,
Slave,
Cluster,
Minny Pops,
Outsiders,
Youth Brigade,
The Beau Brummels,
Brand Nubian,
Qualms,
Althea and Donna,
Technova,
The Move,
the Human League,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Max Romeo,
Lyres, Lyres, Lyres, Lyres.
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.