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 Macedonia and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 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 Man Eating Sloth 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 Tres Demented. All the underground hits.
All Arthur Verocai tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 rhodes and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kaleidoscope record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Harry Pussy,
Roxette,
Beasts of Bourbon,
H. Thieme,
John Coltrane,
Scion,
Terrestrial Tones,
Banda Bassotti,
Visage,
Alice Coltrane,
Todd Rundgren,
Chrome,
Kaleidoscope,
Soul II Soul,
Marine Girls,
World's Most,
X-Ray Spex,
E-Dancer,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Nas,
Motorama,
June of 44,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Alarm Clocks,
June Days,
The Standells,
The Selecter,
Sonic Youth,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Mojo Men,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Joe Finger,
Neu!,
Bizarre Inc.,
Icehouse,
The Moleskins,
Masters at Work,
Crime,
Wire,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
John Foxx,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Von Mondo,
Radio Birdman,
Stetsasonic,
Wings,
The Fugs,
Index,
Max Romeo,
DJ Sneak,
Iggy Pop,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Scientists,
Frankie Knuckles,
8 Eyed Spy,
K-Klass,
Althea and Donna,
Crooked Eye,
Sam Rivers,
The Motions, The Motions, The Motions, The Motions.
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.