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 Kenya and from Glasgow.
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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 spring reverb 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 Aural Exciters to the punk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Mighty Diamonds. All the underground hits.
All Kerri Chandler tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 linndrum and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Livin' Joy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Brothers Johnson,
Metal Thangz,
Skaos,
John Lydon,
Avey Tare,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Crooked Eye,
Deakin,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Frankie Knuckles,
Ponytail,
The Gories,
Tears for Fears,
Lalann,
DNA,
Suburban Knight,
The Fire Engines,
Juan Atkins,
Traffic Nightmare,
Matthew Halsall,
Bob Dylan,
Pharoah Sanders,
kango's stein massive,
New York Dolls,
The Electric Prunes,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Little Man,
Blake Baxter,
Marcia Griffiths,
Slave,
Intrusion,
Sonny Sharrock,
Peter & Gordon,
Silicon Teens,
the Association,
Fad Gadget,
John Foxx,
Drexciya,
The Selecter,
Wally Richardson,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
In Retrospect,
Albert Ayler,
Hasil Adkins,
The Evens,
The Cosmic Jokers,
the Bar-Kays,
Amon Düül,
Flash Fearless,
Echospace,
Bill Near,
David Axelrod,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Pagans,
Rosa Yemen,
The American Breed,
The Searchers,
Thee Headcoats,
Althea and Donna,
The Smiths, The Smiths, The Smiths, The Smiths.
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.