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 Fiji and from Cairo.
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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 X-101 to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Sexual Harrassment. All the underground hits.
All Anakelly tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every China Crisis 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a UT record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Cramps,
The Busters,
Mission of Burma,
Fad Gadget,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Move,
Graham Central Station,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Country Teasers,
Faraquet,
The Alarm Clocks,
Chris Corsano,
Warsaw,
Robert Wyatt,
Audionom,
Warren Ellis,
Aaron Thompson,
The United States of America,
The Fortunes,
Echospace,
Trumans Water,
The Black Dice,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
ABBA,
Wolf Eyes,
Dark Day,
The Neon Judgement,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Underground Resistance,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Todd Terry,
Nik Kershaw,
Sällskapet,
The Dead C,
Boredoms,
Kayak,
Alison Limerick,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Stereo Dub,
Amon Düül,
Gastr Del Sol,
Isaac Hayes,
Cybotron,
Minny Pops,
The Tremeloes,
Soul II Soul,
Ten City,
The Names,
The Fall,
Derrick May,
Matthew Halsall,
Lightning Bolt,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
the Bar-Kays,
10cc,
Glenn Branca,
Godley & Creme,
The Moleskins,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Rotary Connection,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs.
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.