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 Palau and from Spokane.
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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 808 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 The Remains 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 Harry Pussy. All the underground hits.
All The Victims tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Donald Byrd 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sun Ra Arkestra record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Gang of Four,
The Durutti Column,
the Slits,
Gang Green,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Names,
The Tremeloes,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Martian,
Camberwell Now,
David Bowie,
Cybotron,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Steve Hackett,
The American Breed,
Parry Music,
Index,
Ornette Coleman,
Pussy Galore,
Prince Buster,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Swell Maps,
Subhumans,
The Searchers,
Gastr Del Sol,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Minutemen,
Dawn Penn,
Nils Olav,
Joey Negro,
Bobby Byrd,
JFA,
Hasil Adkins,
Alice Coltrane,
Soft Cell,
The Human League,
Scratch Acid,
Interpol,
Soft Machine,
Suburban Knight,
Altered Images,
Stockholm Monsters,
Country Teasers,
Lucky Dragons,
Nico,
Lou Christie,
Surgeon,
The Knickerbockers,
Monolake,
Big Daddy Kane,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Amazonics,
The New Christs,
Gong,
Sixth Finger,
The Young Rascals,
Boogie Down Productions,
Cecil Taylor,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Bluetip,
Hashim,
Icehouse, Icehouse, Icehouse, Icehouse.
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.