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 Maldives and from Bremen.
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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the oboe 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 Royal Trux to the electroclash 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 Urselle. All the underground hits.
All Lebanon Hanover tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 a clarinet and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Electric Light Orchestra record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
DJ Style,
EPMD,
Bob Dylan,
Harry Pussy,
Electric Prunes,
Little Man,
La Düsseldorf,
Jeru the Damaja,
Lyres,
Bad Manners,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Public Enemy,
The Golliwogs,
The Skatalites,
Joey Negro,
Bobby Womack,
Black Pus,
The Dead C,
The Selecter,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Main Source,
Darondo,
Robert Görl,
Kurtis Blow,
The Kinks,
The Monks,
Gerry Rafferty,
Tom Boy,
Cybotron,
The Evens,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Pretty Things,
Jeff Lynne,
Todd Rundgren,
T.S.O.L.,
Tubeway Army,
Youth Brigade,
Warren Ellis,
The Standells,
The Trojans,
Metal Thangz,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Fuzztones,
Peter & Gordon,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Sun City Girls,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Anakelly,
Rekid,
Ultimate Spinach,
Graham Central Station,
48th St. Collective,
Grandmaster Flash,
Schoolly D,
Hot Snakes,
Theoretical Girls,
Laurel Aitken,
the Human League,
Rapeman,
Mission of Burma,
Jacques Brel, Jacques Brel, Jacques Brel, Jacques Brel.
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.