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 Ukraine and from Bremen.
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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 Tom Verlaine 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 Angry Samoans to the dance kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Deepchord. All the underground hits.
All The Detroit Cobras tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Peter and Kerry 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tim Buckley record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Throbbing Gristle,
Swans,
Andrew Hill,
Harpers Bizarre,
Hasil Adkins,
Dave Gahan,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Funkadelic,
Scratch Acid,
Arab on Radar,
Boz Scaggs,
Half Japanese,
Au Pairs,
Interpol,
Derrick May,
Angry Samoans,
Boogie Down Productions,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Underground Resistance,
Minutemen,
Sex Pistols,
Jacques Brel,
Oblivians,
Siglo XX,
The Invisible,
48th St. Collective,
The Tremeloes,
Cameo,
Warren Ellis,
Faraquet,
Ken Boothe,
Radio Birdman,
Rosa Yemen,
the Fania All-Stars,
Amazonics,
The Searchers,
Minny Pops,
The Happenings,
Crime,
Ultimate Spinach,
Pulsallama,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Aaron Thompson,
Brass Construction,
Deadbeat,
Soul Sonic Force,
Bobby Byrd,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Suburban Knight,
Stereo Dub,
Scrapy,
Country Teasers,
The New Christs,
Fear,
Fat Boys,
Sam Rivers,
Cybotron,
The Moody Blues,
Schoolly D,
Moby Grape,
Section 25,
Mandrill,
Camberwell Now,
The Real Kids, The Real Kids, The Real Kids, The Real Kids.
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.