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 Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 Donny Hathaway to the grime kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Kool Moe Dee. All the underground hits.
All The Star Department tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Zeros record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Traffic Nightmare record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Avey Tare,
Minnie Riperton,
The Toasters,
The Smoke,
OOIOO,
The Slits,
Little Man,
Moby Grape,
Soft Cell,
Soul Sonic Force,
Cal Tjader,
Albert Ayler,
Harry Pussy,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Darondo,
The Human League,
David Bowie,
Niagra,
Bob Dylan,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Wake,
K-Klass,
The Beau Brummels,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Hoover,
Reagan Youth,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Procol Harum,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Index,
Radio Birdman,
Chris Corsano,
Von Mondo,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Masters at Work,
Bang On A Can,
James White and The Blacks,
AZ,
Flash Fearless,
Ultra Naté,
Intrusion,
X-Ray Spex,
Chrome,
Severed Heads,
Spoonie Gee,
Tears for Fears,
Whodini,
Sixth Finger,
Sexual Harrassment,
Michelle Simonal,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Das Ding,
Bobby Sherman,
Bootsy Collins,
The Offenders,
Lou Christie,
Technova,
Urselle,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Five Americans,
Liliput,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Mummies, The Mummies, The Mummies, The Mummies.
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.