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 Lithuania and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 marimba 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 Glenn Branca to the techno kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Heavy D & The Boyz. All the underground hits.
All Rahsaan Roland Kirk tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Peanut Butter Conspiracy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Brick record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fort Wilson Riot,
Agent Orange,
Gregory Isaacs,
Glambeats Corp.,
Ronnie Foster,
Trumans Water,
Guru Guru,
Amon Düül II,
Desert Stars,
Davy DMX,
The Martian,
The Beau Brummels,
Outsiders,
R.M.O.,
PIL,
Howard Jones,
The Raincoats,
Kayak,
Aloha Tigers,
Surgeon,
Radiopuhelimet,
the Association,
the Bar-Kays,
Max Romeo,
Brick,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Frankie Knuckles,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Reagan Youth,
Monks,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Section 25,
Loose Ends,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Yazoo,
Monolake,
H. Thieme,
The Trojans,
Alton Ellis,
Hardrive,
The Gladiators,
Jacques Brel,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Doobie Brothers,
Soulsonic Force,
Inner City,
Vainqueur,
Bobby Sherman,
Ohio Players,
The New Christs,
The Black Dice,
Joey Negro,
Yaz,
Bill Near,
The Skatalites,
Altered Images,
Flamin' Groovies,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Procol Harum,
Magma,
Flipper,
The Gun Club,
Scientists, Scientists, Scientists, Scientists.
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.