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 Saudi Arabia and from Toronto.
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 1960 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the clarinet 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 kango's stein massive to the dance kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Detroit Cobras. All the underground hits.
All Quantec tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every H. Thieme record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Maurizio record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Make Up,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Barracudas,
Throbbing Gristle,
Anakelly,
Fat Boys,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Gong,
Ossler,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Vogues,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Audionom,
The Fuzztones,
New York Dolls,
Moby Grape,
Inner City,
Arcadia,
Stereo Dub,
Au Pairs,
the Human League,
8 Eyed Spy,
Unrelated Segments,
Siglo XX,
Bill Near,
Ludus,
Pulsallama,
Ken Boothe,
John Lydon,
Second Layer,
Excepter,
The Blackbyrds,
UT,
Symarip,
DJ Style,
Lou Reed,
Camberwell Now,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Arab on Radar,
The American Breed,
Junior Murvin,
Al Stewart,
Barrington Levy,
Max Romeo,
OOIOO,
Kenny Larkin,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Stooges,
China Crisis,
Thee Headcoats,
The Walker Brothers,
Alice Coltrane,
Barry Ungar,
Colin Newman,
Lee Hazlewood,
Boredoms,
Visage,
The Sonics, The Sonics, The Sonics, The Sonics.
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.