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 Costa Rica and from Stockholm.
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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Scientists to the dance kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Camberwell Now. All the underground hits.
All Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Electric Light Orchestra 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Flamin' Groovies record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scott Walker,
Nas,
Yusef Lateef,
Can,
Bootsy Collins,
Sound Behaviour,
Tres Demented,
K-Klass,
Crash Course in Science,
Matthew Halsall,
Barry Ungar,
Sarah Menescal,
Jeff Lynne,
The Gladiators,
The Gun Club,
Absolute Body Control,
Aaron Thompson,
Icehouse,
Amon Düül,
U.S. Maple,
Ludus,
Traffic Nightmare,
Connie Case,
Desert Stars,
Buzzcocks,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Star Department,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Fad Gadget,
Livin' Joy,
Altered Images,
Rakim,
Make Up,
LL Cool J,
Marc Almond,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Names,
Interpol,
a-ha,
Idris Muhammad,
Blake Baxter,
Kool Moe Dee,
Freddie Wadling,
Scan 7,
Cal Tjader,
Radio Birdman,
Soulsonic Force,
The Selecter,
Bizarre Inc.,
Crispian St. Peters,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Cowsills,
Pagans,
Neil Young,
The Residents,
Agent Orange,
Davy DMX,
Metal Thangz,
Ultravox,
Pole,
The Fire Engines,
Roxette,
Archie Shepp, Archie Shepp, Archie Shepp, Archie Shepp.
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.