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 Eritrea and from Copenhagen.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 snare 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 DNA to the techno 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 Blossom Toes. All the underground hits.
All Scratch Acid tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lucky Dragons 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 an arpeggiator and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tom Boy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Durutti Column,
Reuben Wilson,
Moebius,
Heaven 17,
Blossom Toes,
The Dave Clark Five,
Hardrive,
Josef K,
Quadrant,
Hot Snakes,
Bronski Beat,
Althea and Donna,
Crime,
Swans,
MC5,
Cecil Taylor,
The American Breed,
X-101,
The Music Machine,
Skaos,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Goldenarms,
The Cramps,
Minor Threat,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Techniques,
the Bar-Kays,
Anthony Braxton,
Todd Rundgren,
Minutemen,
Lindisfarne,
Eric B and Rakim,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Chrome,
The Golliwogs,
Fear,
Gichy Dan,
Blake Baxter,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Human League,
Flipper,
Severed Heads,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Zapp,
Half Japanese,
The Searchers,
Ponytail,
The Real Kids,
The Black Dice,
Black Bananas,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Oneida,
ABBA,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Rosa Yemen,
Model 500,
Con Funk Shun,
The Dirtbombs,
Reagan Youth,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
LL Cool J,
F. McDonald, F. McDonald, F. McDonald, F. McDonald.
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.