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 Uruguay and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Spokane.
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 1970 at the first Onyeabor practice in a loft in Enugu.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Pulsallama to the rock kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Half Japanese. All the underground hits.
All Young Marble Giants tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crispy Ambulance record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Magazine record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Bananas,
Bootsy Collins,
Andrew Hill,
Cecil Taylor,
Black Flag,
The Last Poets,
Aloha Tigers,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Public Enemy,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Adolescents,
Nico,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Zeros,
L. Decosne,
10cc,
Quando Quango,
John Foxx,
Rekid,
Zapp,
Yusef Lateef,
Godley & Creme,
Deepchord,
ABC,
Groovy Waters,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Roxy Music,
Camouflage,
Moss Icon,
The Beau Brummels,
Infiniti,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Boz Scaggs,
FM Einheit,
Sarah Menescal,
Quadrant,
Ultravox,
Sällskapet,
The Music Machine,
Fatback Band,
Ronnie Foster,
The Kinks,
Davy DMX,
Neil Young,
Robert Görl,
Tropical Tobacco,
Black Sheep,
Sam Rivers,
cv313,
Eric Dolphy,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Amon Düül II,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Five Americans,
Talk Talk,
Dorothy Ashby,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Piero Umiliani,
Theoretical Girls,
Kerri Chandler,
Marcia Griffiths, Marcia Griffiths, Marcia Griffiths, Marcia Griffiths.
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.