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 Cyprus and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 808 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 Soft Machine to the dance kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Lou Reed & John Cale. All the underground hits.
All The Buckinghams tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sonic Youth record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a B.T. Express record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Searchers,
Eric Copeland,
Urselle,
The Standells,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Yusef Lateef,
T.S.O.L.,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
X-101,
Crime,
Blake Baxter,
Sonic Youth,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
New York Dolls,
Stockholm Monsters,
Supertramp,
Marmalade,
Delta 5,
JFA,
Lou Reed,
The Cure,
The Litter,
Smog,
ABBA,
Slick Rick,
Little Man,
The Red Krayola,
X-102,
The Moleskins,
Ralphi Rosario,
Niagra,
Anakelly,
Rufus Thomas,
Grandmaster Flash,
Marshall Jefferson,
Hot Snakes,
The Beau Brummels,
Surgeon,
Subhumans,
Underground Resistance,
Janne Schatter,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Yellowson,
Moss Icon,
Maleditus Sound,
Inner City,
Khruangbin,
The United States of America,
Fear,
Roy Ayers,
Los Fastidios,
Amon Düül,
Y Pants,
the Swans,
Unwound,
Scientists,
the Normal,
The Durutti Column,
Ultravox,
Eli Mardock,
David Axelrod, David Axelrod, David Axelrod, David Axelrod.
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.