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 Serbia and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Toronto.
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 guitar 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 West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band to the grime kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Susan Cadogan. All the underground hits.
All Gastr Del Sol tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Heavy D & The Boyz 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Deadbeat record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gil Scott Heron,
The Divine Comedy,
the Germs,
Johnny Osbourne,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Arcadia,
John Coltrane,
Visage,
Skriet,
Man Parrish,
Eli Mardock,
Eurythmics,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Blake Baxter,
Maleditus Sound,
Mission of Burma,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Amon Düül,
Audionom,
The Fugs,
The Dead C,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Metal Thangz,
Al Stewart,
The Martian,
Lindisfarne,
Japan,
Flamin' Groovies,
Lou Reed,
Suburban Knight,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Bobby Sherman,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Faraquet,
Johnny Clarke,
Nils Olav,
The Motions,
The Count Five,
OOIOO,
Surgeon,
The Remains,
Icehouse,
Jacques Brel,
The Doors,
The Dirtbombs,
The Beau Brummels,
The Raincoats,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Neil Young,
Althea and Donna,
Liliput,
Porter Ricks,
Frankie Knuckles,
Main Source,
Dennis Brown,
Gregory Isaacs,
Buzzcocks,
John Holt, John Holt, John Holt, John Holt.
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.