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 Germany and from Tehran.
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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 sitar 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 Siouxsie and the Banshees to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Cal Tjader. All the underground hits.
All The Five Americans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every New York Dolls record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Icehouse record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
DNA,
The Durutti Column,
Das Ding,
AZ,
Skarface,
This Heat,
H. Thieme,
Panda Bear,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Bad Manners,
Terrestrial Tones,
Barry Ungar,
The Fugs,
Surgeon,
Ornette Coleman,
Magazine,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Grey Daturas,
Monolake,
Crispian St. Peters,
These Immortal Souls,
The Divine Comedy,
Anakelly,
the Bar-Kays,
Aloha Tigers,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Rapeman,
The Velvet Underground,
Los Fastidios,
Reagan Youth,
Lakeside,
Deadbeat,
Bobby Byrd,
Gong,
Thompson Twins,
Juan Atkins,
The Sonics,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Altered Images,
Jacob Miller,
Anthony Braxton,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Young Rascals,
The Motions,
Easy Going,
Mission of Burma,
The Neon Judgement,
Mary Jane Girls,
Mad Mike,
The Trojans,
Hoover,
Eric Copeland,
Con Funk Shun,
Eddi Front,
Yusef Lateef,
Eric B and Rakim,
Dave Gahan,
Tres Demented,
The Techniques,
PIL,
Scrapy, Scrapy, Scrapy, Scrapy.
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.