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 Laos and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 theremin 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 The Dead C to the disco kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Notorious Big And Bone Thugs. All the underground hits.
All Brothers Johnson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every De La Soul & Jungle Brothers 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eric B and Rakim 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?
The Fugs,
David McCallum,
Magazine,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Rosa Yemen,
Faust,
The Kinks,
The Five Americans,
The United States of America,
Glenn Branca,
Sound Behaviour,
Nico,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Parry Music,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Lower 48,
Von Mondo,
Alice Coltrane,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Suicide,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Subhumans,
Throbbing Gristle,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Sugar Minott,
Arthur Verocai,
Wire,
Danielle Patucci,
Unrelated Segments,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Drive Like Jehu,
Funky Four + One,
Q65,
the Bar-Kays,
Public Image Ltd.,
Toni Rubio,
Graham Central Station,
Wolf Eyes,
Mars,
Zero Boys,
The Pretty Things,
Stereo Dub,
The Smoke,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Dennis Brown,
Lightning Bolt,
Harmonia,
Matthew Halsall,
X-102,
The Knickerbockers,
Robert Hood,
The Dead C,
The Modern Lovers,
John Holt,
Soul II Soul,
Hardrive,
Ituana,
Robert Wyatt,
Bootsy Collins,
World's Most,
Pet Shop Boys, Pet Shop Boys, Pet Shop Boys, Pet Shop Boys.
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.