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 Malawi and from Taipei.
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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Scion to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Birthday Party. All the underground hits.
All Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Monolake record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Royal Trux,
This Heat,
Cameo,
Buzzcocks,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
JFA,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Doobie Brothers,
Severed Heads,
Bobby Hutcherson,
kango's stein massive,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Banda Bassotti,
Youth Brigade,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Skatalites,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Eyeless In Gaza,
UT,
The Birthday Party,
DJ Sneak,
ABBA,
The Young Rascals,
Aloha Tigers,
Archie Shepp,
Von Mondo,
Delta 5,
Aural Exciters,
The Kinks,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Wire,
Mantronix,
Soft Cell,
Andrew Hill,
F. McDonald,
Reuben Wilson,
The Busters,
8 Eyed Spy,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Second Layer,
Tubeway Army,
L. Decosne,
PIL,
E-Dancer,
The Monks,
Steve Hackett,
Jeff Lynne,
Monks,
Brick,
Ituana,
Gabor Szabo,
Lungfish,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Yusef Lateef,
T. Rex,
Brand Nubian,
The Happenings,
Heaven 17,
The Alarm Clocks,
World's Most,
Kas Product,
The Jesus and Mary Chain, The Jesus and Mary Chain, The Jesus and Mary Chain, The Jesus and Mary Chain.
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.