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 Afghanistan and from Winnipeg.
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 1961 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Rites of Spring to the rock kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Brothers Johnson. All the underground hits.
All Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every John Holt record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Searchers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
New Age Steppers,
the Germs,
Silicon Teens,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Erykah Badu,
The Grass Roots,
Monolake,
Aswad,
Au Pairs,
Masters at Work,
Harry Pussy,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Divine Comedy,
Clear Light,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Man Parrish,
Surgeon,
Infiniti,
The Evens,
Half Japanese,
Altered Images,
Delon & Dalcan,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Five Americans,
Sandy B,
Crooked Eye,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Move,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Human League,
Ornette Coleman,
Radio Birdman,
The Mighty Diamonds,
June Days,
Country Teasers,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Electric Prunes,
The Flesh Eaters,
Ronan,
John Cale,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
June of 44,
The Shadows of Knight,
Bronski Beat,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Eden Ahbez,
Lungfish,
Motorama,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Youth Brigade,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Amon Düül II,
Interpol,
Glambeats Corp.,
Leonard Cohen,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Joe Smooth,
Ponytail,
Marmalade,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Slick Rick, Slick Rick, Slick Rick, Slick Rick.
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.