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 San Marino and from Houston.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 spring reverb 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 Roxy Music to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Make Up. All the underground hits.
All Nirvana tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Hot Snakes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 linndrum and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Beasts of Bourbon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bill Wells,
a-ha,
David Bowie,
Rites of Spring,
Rosa Yemen,
Maurizio,
Nation of Ulysses,
Jeff Lynne,
Buzzcocks,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Crash Course in Science,
Rapeman,
Kenny Larkin,
The Gladiators,
Average White Band,
Half Japanese,
Goldenarms,
Reuben Wilson,
Simply Red,
Tom Boy,
Cecil Taylor,
The Grass Roots,
Can,
Peter & Gordon,
Hashim,
Connie Case,
Radio Birdman,
Eden Ahbez,
Susan Cadogan,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Barbara Tucker,
Freddie Wadling,
Sun City Girls,
K-Klass,
The Mummies,
The Last Poets,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Real Kids,
T. Rex,
Swell Maps,
The Skatalites,
Camberwell Now,
Masters at Work,
Joe Smooth,
Thompson Twins,
Godley & Creme,
Eurythmics,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Pylon,
F. McDonald,
Big Daddy Kane,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Ornette Coleman,
Altered Images,
The Electric Prunes,
The Vogues,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Donald Byrd,
Nils Olav,
Minnie Riperton,
Aural Exciters,
The Dead C, The Dead C, The Dead C, The Dead C.
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.