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 Luxembourg and from Spokane.
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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Lucky Dragons to the techno kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Camouflage. All the underground hits.
All Vaughan Mason & Crew tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Trumans Water record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Roxette record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Barracudas,
David Bowie,
A Certain Ratio,
Kas Product,
Con Funk Shun,
Jeru the Damaja,
Franke,
The Index,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Isaac Hayes,
Y Pants,
Dennis Brown,
James White and The Blacks,
Neil Young,
The Electric Prunes,
Graham Central Station,
Morten Harket,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Niagra,
Main Source,
R.M.O.,
Desert Stars,
Man Eating Sloth,
Sarah Menescal,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
T. Rex,
Malaria!,
Moss Icon,
Johnny Osbourne,
Tears for Fears,
Unwound,
Steve Hackett,
Ossler,
The Shadows of Knight,
Harry Pussy,
Grey Daturas,
Tropical Tobacco,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Pierre Henry,
Country Teasers,
Kerrie Biddell,
Reuben Wilson,
Ken Boothe,
Glambeats Corp.,
Moby Grape,
Chrome,
Sun Ra,
Pussy Galore,
The Remains,
Erykah Badu,
Piero Umiliani,
Whodini,
Lalann,
Prince Buster,
Rakim,
10cc,
Radiopuhelimet,
Rites of Spring,
Theoretical Girls,
Scratch Acid,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Mantronix, Mantronix, Mantronix, Mantronix.
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.