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 Guatemala and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band to the grime 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 The Trojans. All the underground hits.
All Todd Terry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Flipper record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
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 Bill Near record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bob Dylan,
The Selecter,
Spandau Ballet,
Zapp,
AZ,
Marcia Griffiths,
Fela Kuti,
Icehouse,
the Germs,
Black Moon,
The Real Kids,
The Walker Brothers,
Blake Baxter,
Los Fastidios,
Funkadelic,
Con Funk Shun,
Carl Craig,
The Skatalites,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Shadows of Knight,
Moss Icon,
Johnny Osbourne,
Siglo XX,
Radio Birdman,
Aaron Thompson,
Connie Case,
Public Enemy,
Toni Rubio,
the Normal,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Young Marble Giants,
Sonic Youth,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Evens,
Agent Orange,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Robert Görl,
Symarip,
Eric Dolphy,
Masters at Work,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Groovy Waters,
Soft Cell,
Desert Stars,
Ultravox,
Circle Jerks,
The Divine Comedy,
Lou Christie,
The Mojo Men,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Invisible,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Roxy Music,
Man Parrish,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Loose Ends,
Black Flag,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Joey Negro,
X-101,
Lakeside,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd.
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.