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 Bahamas and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1969 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Angry Samoans to the crunk 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 Cheater Slicks. All the underground hits.
All The Remains tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Aaron Thompson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Oneida record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Electric Prunes,
Derrick Morgan,
John Coltrane,
the Bar-Kays,
Sandy B,
Ossler,
Shuggie Otis,
Heaven 17,
Fluxion,
Steve Hackett,
the Association,
OOIOO,
Altered Images,
Audionom,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Gang of Four,
Wasted Youth,
Glambeats Corp.,
Zapp,
cv313,
Robert Görl,
Girls At Our Best!,
Dead Boys,
Maurizio,
CMW,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Public Enemy,
June of 44,
The Velvet Underground,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Gladiators,
Aural Exciters,
Funkadelic,
Bauhaus,
Sun Ra,
Sarah Menescal,
Nils Olav,
Y Pants,
Lyres,
Moss Icon,
Tommy Roe,
Kerrie Biddell,
Minny Pops,
The Blues Magoos,
Ultra Naté,
Roxette,
Barrington Levy,
Freddie Wadling,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
FM Einheit,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Tears for Fears,
Leonard Cohen,
Thee Headcoats,
Traffic Nightmare,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Evens,
Harry Pussy,
Byron Stingily, Byron Stingily, Byron Stingily, Byron Stingily.
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.