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 New Zealand 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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Marcia Griffiths to the rock 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 Cybotron. All the underground hits.
All John Cale tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Oneida record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 guitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Albert Ayler record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Move,
Lalann,
David McCallum,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Seeds,
The Electric Prunes,
Bob Dylan,
The Music Machine,
Peter & Gordon,
The Real Kids,
Pet Shop Boys,
Rosa Yemen,
Dark Day,
Sister Nancy,
The Motions,
Country Teasers,
Johnny Osbourne,
Infiniti,
DJ Style,
ABC,
Lou Christie,
Eric Dolphy,
Gang Green,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Monks,
Archie Shepp,
Con Funk Shun,
Derrick May,
The Blackbyrds,
Groovy Waters,
Cluster,
Liliput,
X-Ray Spex,
The Moleskins,
Jandek,
48th St. Collective,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Second Layer,
The Fire Engines,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Thompson Twins,
The Last Poets,
The Toasters,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Funky Four + One,
Rites of Spring,
Junior Murvin,
a-ha,
The Blues Magoos,
Tim Buckley,
Crime,
Blancmange,
Magma,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Circle Jerks,
Patti Smith,
Suburban Knight,
The Stooges,
Skriet,
Howard Jones,
Babytalk, Babytalk, Babytalk, Babytalk.
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.