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 Singapore and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Marmalade to the techno kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Massinfluence. All the underground hits.
All Letta Mbulu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Pretty Things 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mission of Burma,
June Days,
Fatback Band,
The Buckinghams,
Marshall Jefferson,
Thee Headcoats,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
China Crisis,
These Immortal Souls,
The Smiths,
Vainqueur,
Morten Harket,
Joey Negro,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Rapeman,
the Germs,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Connie Case,
The Electric Prunes,
Marcia Griffiths,
Soft Machine,
MDC,
The Doobie Brothers,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
a-ha,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Ohio Players,
R.M.O.,
Zero Boys,
Fluxion,
Kayak,
The Alarm Clocks,
Roxette,
Panda Bear,
Fela Kuti,
Scott Walker,
Easy Going,
Unrelated Segments,
The United States of America,
Desert Stars,
Joe Smooth,
X-101,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Barry Ungar,
Rakim,
The Blues Magoos,
Donny Hathaway,
Joe Finger,
Section 25,
Traffic Nightmare,
Monks,
Goldenarms,
Rod Modell,
Yaz,
The Mojo Men,
Jeff Mills,
The Move,
Bauhaus,
kango's stein massive,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Names,
X-Ray Spex, X-Ray Spex, X-Ray Spex, X-Ray Spex.
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.