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 Guyana and from Houston.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the mellotron 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 The Electric Prunes to the funk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Wings. All the underground hits.
All Yellowson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Thee Headcoats record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Searchers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Names,
Agent Orange,
Hashim,
Angry Samoans,
Jacob Miller,
D'Angelo,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Fatback Band,
Arthur Verocai,
Eric B and Rakim,
UT,
Leonard Cohen,
Vainqueur,
L. Decosne,
Big Daddy Kane,
Josef K,
Magma,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Bush Tetras,
Rites of Spring,
Bobby Sherman,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
June Days,
John Foxx,
Lungfish,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Alison Limerick,
Magazine,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Kenny Larkin,
Camberwell Now,
Gerry Rafferty,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Ultra Naté,
Todd Terry,
Can,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Aloha Tigers,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
James White and The Blacks,
The Sonics,
Minnie Riperton,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Sonic Youth,
Bluetip,
The Golliwogs,
Yusef Lateef,
Zero Boys,
B.T. Express,
Sound Behaviour,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Gang Starr,
Bobby Byrd,
Brass Construction,
The Music Machine,
Cymande,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Gun Club,
Agitation Free,
The Evens,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Chris Corsano, Chris Corsano, Chris Corsano, Chris Corsano.
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.