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 Niger and from London.
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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Youth Brigade to the techno 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 The Index. All the underground hits.
All Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Teenage Jesus and the Jerks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Severed Heads record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crooked Eye,
Accadde A,
Jeff Lynne,
Gerry Rafferty,
Depeche Mode,
Slick Rick,
Joey Negro,
Yazoo,
Gong,
Eric B and Rakim,
Negative Approach,
The Fall,
Lee Hazlewood,
Kerrie Biddell,
Mission of Burma,
Bang On A Can,
Eve St. Jones,
the Fania All-Stars,
Black Bananas,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Black Moon,
The Count Five,
Lindisfarne,
Kool Moe Dee,
Arthur Verocai,
Sun City Girls,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Evens,
Peter and Kerry,
Harpers Bizarre,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Robert Wyatt,
Magma,
Prince Buster,
Ronan,
Morten Harket,
Joy Division,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Sandy B,
Davy DMX,
Moebius,
Boogie Down Productions,
Gang Starr,
The Black Dice,
The Trojans,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Alton Ellis,
Johnny Osbourne,
Godley & Creme,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Selecter,
Silicon Teens,
Cal Tjader,
Charles Mingus,
Guru Guru,
Adolescents,
Flamin' Groovies,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Walker Brothers,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Livin' Joy,
Electric Prunes, Electric Prunes, Electric Prunes, Electric Prunes.
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.