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 Ghana and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 Lyon and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 mellotron 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 Barry Ungar to the funk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 K-Klass. All the underground hits.
All The Monks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Yellowson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Iggy Pop record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Jandek,
Boz Scaggs,
Kayak,
Surgeon,
OOIOO,
The Cowsills,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Associates,
Mr. Review,
David Bowie,
Susan Cadogan,
Stockholm Monsters,
10cc,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Camouflage,
MDC,
Massinfluence,
The Durutti Column,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Delon & Dalcan,
H. Thieme,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Tubeway Army,
Kaleidoscope,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Electric Prunes,
Bill Near,
Mantronix,
Stetsasonic,
the Fania All-Stars,
Lucky Dragons,
Wasted Youth,
B.T. Express,
Young Marble Giants,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Sound,
Tommy Roe,
The Gories,
The Music Machine,
Section 25,
Crispy Ambulance,
Stiv Bators,
Los Fastidios,
The Trojans,
Adolescents,
Qualms,
Urselle,
Lou Christie,
JFA,
Quadrant,
Lakeside,
Yellowson,
Mary Jane Girls,
Pulsallama, Pulsallama, Pulsallama, Pulsallama.
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.