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 Malaysia and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 synthesizer 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 funk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Flesh Eaters. All the underground hits.
All the Swans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Average White Band 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Smog record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Girls At Our Best!,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Radiopuhelimet,
Massinfluence,
Underground Resistance,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Pretty Things,
Reuben Wilson,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Agitation Free,
Ossler,
Ponytail,
Bob Dylan,
Leonard Cohen,
Letta Mbulu,
Index,
The Fortunes,
The Vogues,
The Fugs,
Procol Harum,
the Germs,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Alarm Clocks,
Joe Finger,
Jawbox,
Bobby Womack,
Pole,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Excepter,
Newcleus,
Audionom,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Monks,
The Five Americans,
Slave,
Maleditus Sound,
The Red Krayola,
Albert Ayler,
Susan Cadogan,
Chrome,
Cecil Taylor,
The Tremeloes,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Sonics,
Connie Case,
Model 500,
Main Source,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Rapeman,
Skriet,
Mr. Review,
Skarface,
Suburban Knight,
James White and The Blacks,
Monks,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Lower 48,
The Motions,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Tim Buckley, Tim Buckley, Tim Buckley, Tim Buckley.
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.