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 Andorra and from Hong Kong.
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 1969 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Toronto.
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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the güiro 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 Eric Copeland to the punk 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 The Mojo Men. All the underground hits.
All Prince Buster tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Theoretical Girls 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 sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jandek record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
James Chance & The Contortions,
the Fania All-Stars,
Niagra,
Yazoo,
X-102,
The Cramps,
Sällskapet,
X-101,
Index,
Marc Almond,
Yellowson,
MC5,
Scott Walker,
Rosa Yemen,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Terrestrial Tones,
Gichy Dan,
Robert Wyatt,
Fela Kuti,
EPMD,
Lyres,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Heaven 17,
The Gladiators,
Suburban Knight,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Mad Mike,
Harpers Bizarre,
Dawn Penn,
The Velvet Underground,
Porter Ricks,
June of 44,
The Residents,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Robert Görl,
Country Teasers,
Buzzcocks,
Kurtis Blow,
Nick Fraelich,
the Slits,
Crispian St. Peters,
Infiniti,
Jimmy McGriff,
Dave Gahan,
Sound Behaviour,
Gil Scott Heron,
Unrelated Segments,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Zeros,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Scion,
Funkadelic,
Eve St. Jones,
Joyce Sims,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Babytalk,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Anthony Braxton,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Smoke,
Freddie Wadling,
Deadbeat, Deadbeat, Deadbeat, Deadbeat.
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.