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 Chile and from Stockholm.
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 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Sad Lovers and Giants to the techno kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Desert Stars. All the underground hits.
All Vaughan Mason & Crew tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ajijia Myrayebe 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Strawberry Alarm Clock record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Adolescents,
Intrusion,
Barbara Tucker,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Monks,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Ornette Coleman,
Index,
Yellowson,
The Searchers,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Dawn Penn,
The Neon Judgement,
Gang Gang Dance,
Jacques Brel,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Ultra Naté,
Lightning Bolt,
Crooked Eye,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
World's Most,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Radiopuhelimet,
Erasure,
Tomorrow,
Bill Near,
The Gories,
Don Cherry,
Black Flag,
Dennis Brown,
Delta 5,
Wings,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Anakelly,
Magazine,
Moss Icon,
Zero Boys,
Junior Murvin,
The Happenings,
Popol Vuh,
Masters at Work,
Idris Muhammad,
The Music Machine,
The Gladiators,
Sister Nancy,
Surgeon,
The Stooges,
Bobby Byrd,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
JFA,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Porter Ricks,
The New Christs,
The Shadows of Knight,
Bluetip,
Leonard Cohen,
Faust,
Rod Modell,
The Human League,
Black Sheep,
Desert Stars, Desert Stars, Desert Stars, Desert Stars.
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.