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 Senegal and from Manchester.
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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 arpeggiator 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 Rotary Connection to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Wasted Youth. All the underground hits.
All Frankie Knuckles tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every DJ Style record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Drexciya record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sixth Finger,
The New Christs,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Grey Daturas,
Lower 48,
Black Moon,
Jeff Mills,
Wasted Youth,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Niagra,
ABC,
June of 44,
The Toasters,
Black Bananas,
Buzzcocks,
Yaz,
The Gladiators,
Cecil Taylor,
Youth Brigade,
Franke,
The Searchers,
Deadbeat,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Duran Duran,
Roger Hodgson,
Magma,
CMW,
Chris Corsano,
Sight & Sound,
Animal Collective,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Deepchord,
This Heat,
Nirvana,
Letta Mbulu,
X-101,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Stetsasonic,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Lyres,
Crash Course in Science,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Roy Ayers,
Johnny Clarke,
Ultimate Spinach,
Blake Baxter,
Aloha Tigers,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Harmonia,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Stereo Dub,
Avey Tare,
Bootsy Collins,
Arcadia,
Bobby Byrd,
Sonic Youth,
Average White Band,
DJ Style,
Bad Manners,
Royal Trux, Royal Trux, Royal Trux, Royal Trux.
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.