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 Botswana and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Taipei.
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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Y Pants to the crunk 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 Darondo. All the underground hits.
All Radiopuhelimet tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Man Parrish 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Zeros record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Loose Ends,
The Sonics,
Toni Rubio,
Unrelated Segments,
Skriet,
Faraquet,
The Electric Prunes,
Japan,
Black Pus,
The Tremeloes,
KRS-One,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Sun Ra,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Kerri Chandler,
Anthony Braxton,
Donald Byrd,
Bob Dylan,
Can,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Sister Nancy,
Monks,
The Saints,
Chris & Cosey,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Durutti Column,
Panda Bear,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Ohio Players,
Cluster,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Monolake,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Chrome,
Bobby Byrd,
Kaleidoscope,
Gerry Rafferty,
Sparks,
Los Fastidios,
FM Einheit,
Crime,
China Crisis,
Drexciya,
Warren Ellis,
Dual Sessions,
the Human League,
Popol Vuh,
The Residents,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Donny Hathaway,
Flash Fearless,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Buzzcocks,
K-Klass,
Quantec,
Siglo XX,
Lungfish,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Dorothy Ashby,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Dirtbombs,
Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes.
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.