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 Armenia and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Gian Franco Pienzio to the disco kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Walker Brothers. All the underground hits.
All Bobby Byrd tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rahsaan Roland Kirk record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 clarinet and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Barclay James Harvest record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Toasters,
ABBA,
Kerri Chandler,
Wally Richardson,
The Slackers,
Cal Tjader,
Pantytec,
Minnie Riperton,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Rufus Thomas,
Unwound,
These Immortal Souls,
The Alarm Clocks,
Faraquet,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Intrusion,
PIL,
Eric Copeland,
Rapeman,
Delon & Dalcan,
F. McDonald,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Avey Tare,
Crash Course in Science,
The Fuzztones,
The Skatalites,
Junior Murvin,
Lalann,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Agitation Free,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Saints,
The Searchers,
Dual Sessions,
The Busters,
Jawbox,
Iggy Pop,
Yusef Lateef,
Johnny Osbourne,
Depeche Mode,
Radio Birdman,
Bauhaus,
Gil Scott Heron,
Livin' Joy,
Minutemen,
Newcleus,
Isaac Hayes,
Cecil Taylor,
Lakeside,
Traffic Nightmare,
Malaria!,
Bronski Beat,
The Martian,
the Swans,
Das Ding,
The Count Five,
Wasted Youth,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Severed Heads, Severed Heads, Severed Heads, Severed Heads.
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.