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 Chile and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Anthony Braxton to the rap kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Lower 48. All the underground hits.
All China Crisis tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Public Enemy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s 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 The Smiths record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sparks,
Quadrant,
Alice Coltrane,
John Foxx,
The Knickerbockers,
T. Rex,
The Misunderstood,
Boogie Down Productions,
Whodini,
Dead Boys,
Minnie Riperton,
The Electric Prunes,
The Neon Judgement,
Absolute Body Control,
Gerry Rafferty,
Angry Samoans,
Todd Rundgren,
Fluxion,
Rod Modell,
Wolf Eyes,
T.S.O.L.,
Joey Negro,
Mr. Review,
Bob Dylan,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
L. Decosne,
The Wake,
Pylon,
Sun Ra,
the Human League,
Blake Baxter,
Wally Richardson,
The Doobie Brothers,
Pere Ubu,
The Slits,
Metal Thangz,
Stiv Bators,
Oneida,
Neil Young,
Dorothy Ashby,
Groovy Waters,
The Evens,
Anthony Braxton,
Brothers Johnson,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Funkadelic,
Crash Course in Science,
Los Fastidios,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Index,
Bizarre Inc.,
Adolescents,
Radio Birdman,
The Beau Brummels,
The Golliwogs,
MC5,
Oblivians,
World's Most,
Porter Ricks,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Surgeon, Surgeon, Surgeon, Surgeon.
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.