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 Kyrgyzstan and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Manila.
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 chamberlin 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 Deadbeat to the rap 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 Niagra. All the underground hits.
All Scratch Acid tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Quando Quango record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 chamberlin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mars record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Traffic Nightmare,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Parry Music,
DNA,
Unwound,
AZ,
OOIOO,
Deepchord,
Jacob Miller,
Stereo Dub,
Talk Talk,
Bad Manners,
Jeff Mills,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Theoretical Girls,
Ronnie Foster,
Scion,
Marvin Gaye,
Marc Almond,
Con Funk Shun,
Metal Thangz,
Los Fastidios,
Infiniti,
Oneida,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Mission of Burma,
B.T. Express,
Monks,
Jacques Brel,
Goldenarms,
Siglo XX,
Wasted Youth,
Radiopuhelimet,
D'Angelo,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Groovy Waters,
Howard Jones,
The Raincoats,
Laurel Aitken,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
New Age Steppers,
Eli Mardock,
Negative Approach,
Ultravox,
Arab on Radar,
Pantaleimon,
Moebius,
Pet Shop Boys,
Gong,
John Cale,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Babytalk,
Rapeman,
The Tremeloes,
Ultimate Spinach,
T. Rex,
MDC,
Rufus Thomas, Rufus Thomas, Rufus Thomas, Rufus Thomas.
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.