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 Switzerland and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Manchester.
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 1970 at the first Onyeabor practice in a loft in Enugu.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 John Cale to the funk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Blossom Toes. All the underground hits.
All Average White Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Music Machine 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 harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scott Walker record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Minutemen,
James White and The Blacks,
Oneida,
Sexual Harrassment,
Juan Atkins,
Ice-T,
John Foxx,
Minnie Riperton,
The Birthday Party,
Black Sheep,
Bronski Beat,
Quantec,
Nirvana,
Nas,
Bad Manners,
The Cure,
A Certain Ratio,
a-ha,
Bobby Byrd,
Ronan,
Kaleidoscope,
Slick Rick,
Crime,
48th St. Collective,
Royal Trux,
10cc,
Moebius,
Eurythmics,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
L. Decosne,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Cluster,
Bill Near,
Camberwell Now,
Saccharine Trust,
PIL,
Ultravox,
Organ,
Black Pus,
The Wake,
The Gap Band,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Idris Muhammad,
Drexciya,
Fugazi,
Pussy Galore,
UT,
Nick Fraelich,
Eyeless In Gaza,
One Last Wish,
Fat Boys,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
B.T. Express,
Don Cherry,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
the Association,
Public Enemy,
The Beau Brummels,
Trumans Water,
Suburban Knight,
Jandek, Jandek, Jandek, Jandek.
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.