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 Congo and from Bologna.
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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 clarinet 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 Youth Brigade to the techno kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Bang on a Can All-Stars. All the underground hits.
All Louis and Bebe Barron tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tommy Roe 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fear record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
A Flock of Seagulls,
Dark Day,
UT,
Quadrant,
Ronnie Foster,
Peter and Kerry,
Grauzone,
The Searchers,
The Motions,
The Blues Magoos,
Kerri Chandler,
LL Cool J,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Hoover,
Nirvana,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Can,
Rapeman,
Brick,
Unrelated Segments,
The Doors,
Siglo XX,
48th St. Collective,
Bobby Sherman,
Skarface,
Outsiders,
Nils Olav,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Michelle Simonal,
Joy Division,
Newcleus,
Gichy Dan,
Stockholm Monsters,
Eden Ahbez,
Roy Ayers,
Ten City,
Marcia Griffiths,
Thompson Twins,
Boogie Down Productions,
Mandrill,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Byron Stingily,
Wally Richardson,
Albert Ayler,
Black Moon,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Lou Christie,
Don Cherry,
Erykah Badu,
World's Most,
Babytalk,
Mary Jane Girls,
John Holt,
Amazonics,
Sight & Sound,
Laurel Aitken,
Franke,
Jesper Dahlback,
Soul Sonic Force,
Japan,
Eric B and Rakim,
Angry Samoans,
Brothers Johnson,
Section 25, Section 25, Section 25, Section 25.
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.