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 Cambodia and from Woodstock.
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 1968 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the theremin 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 Joe Finger to the punk 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 Peanut Butter Conspiracy. All the underground hits.
All Skarface tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sonny Sharrock record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 a synthesizer and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Angry Samoans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Soft Cell,
The Alarm Clocks,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Faust,
the Association,
Boz Scaggs,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Jeru the Damaja,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Henry Cow,
Brick,
Nirvana,
Camberwell Now,
Rakim,
The Leaves,
John Holt,
Organ,
The Angels of Light,
Sister Nancy,
Eddi Front,
Marvin Gaye,
Ponytail,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Supertramp,
Section 25,
Sandy B,
Lee Hazlewood,
Howard Jones,
Joey Negro,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Whodini,
Sixth Finger,
Ken Boothe,
Audionom,
Yazoo,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Crispy Ambulance,
Echospace,
The Grass Roots,
Patti Smith,
The Mojo Men,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Depeche Mode,
Von Mondo,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Magazine,
Nas,
Lalo Schifrin,
Sex Pistols,
The Tremeloes,
Kool Moe Dee,
Motorama,
The Electric Prunes,
Don Cherry,
Silicon Teens,
Q65,
Prince Buster,
Flash Fearless,
Easy Going,
Intrusion,
The Index,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Eyeless In Gaza, Eyeless In Gaza, Eyeless In Gaza, Eyeless In Gaza.
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.