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 Burkina and from Columbus.
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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Calgary.
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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the oboe 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 Accadde A to the crunk 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 Minutemen. All the underground hits.
All Roy Ayers Ubiquity tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Heaven 17 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Count Five record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Robert Hood,
The Grass Roots,
Maleditus Sound,
Morten Harket,
the Swans,
The Beau Brummels,
Lindisfarne,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Howard Jones,
Ponytail,
The Gladiators,
Lalo Schifrin,
Rod Modell,
Johnny Clarke,
Ohio Players,
Boogie Down Productions,
Graham Central Station,
Todd Terry,
The Martian,
Laurel Aitken,
Jeff Mills,
Hardrive,
Rites of Spring,
Jacques Brel,
the Association,
Black Moon,
Masters at Work,
Patti Smith,
Aloha Tigers,
The Index,
Dorothy Ashby,
Model 500,
The American Breed,
D'Angelo,
Gregory Isaacs,
Crime,
B.T. Express,
Gichy Dan,
Moby Grape,
ABC,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Barclay James Harvest,
Crooked Eye,
Tubeway Army,
Eve St. Jones,
Toni Rubio,
Kaleidoscope,
The Mummies,
Gil Scott Heron,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Metal Thangz,
The Golliwogs,
John Foxx,
Royal Trux,
Drexciya,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Little Man,
Soft Cell,
Joe Smooth,
Qualms,
Robert Wyatt,
Oblivians, Oblivians, Oblivians, Oblivians.
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.