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 Finland and from Bremen.
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 1969 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen 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 1970 at the first Onyeabor practice in a loft in Enugu.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Radio Birdman to the jazz kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Sound. All the underground hits.
All The Smoke tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Louis and Bebe Barron record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Oppenheimer Analysis record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
One Last Wish,
Tomorrow,
Alphaville,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Mantronix,
Susan Cadogan,
the Human League,
X-Ray Spex,
The Tremeloes,
Kayak,
Erykah Badu,
Livin' Joy,
Cameo,
Newcleus,
Marvin Gaye,
Masters at Work,
Lightning Bolt,
Simply Red,
Q and Not U,
Intrusion,
Bush Tetras,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Excepter,
Wasted Youth,
Magma,
Nirvana,
Audionom,
Lalo Schifrin,
These Immortal Souls,
Black Sheep,
Black Bananas,
Severed Heads,
Jandek,
Toni Rubio,
Erasure,
Q65,
Lucky Dragons,
Barclay James Harvest,
Crispy Ambulance,
Alton Ellis,
Glambeats Corp.,
Siglo XX,
The Fuzztones,
Cal Tjader,
Bluetip,
Delon & Dalcan,
Wings,
The Neon Judgement,
Main Source,
Davy DMX,
Zero Boys,
Sex Pistols,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The New Christs,
Stockholm Monsters,
Steve Hackett,
John Lydon,
Man Parrish,
Sam Rivers,
Gong,
Yusef Lateef,
Monks, Monks, Monks, Monks.
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.