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 Liberia and from Mumbai.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the güiro 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 Crispian St. Peters to the punk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Sun Ra Arkestra. All the underground hits.
All Pagans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Babytalk record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a London Community Gospel Choir record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Minutemen,
Dead Boys,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Henry Cow,
Todd Rundgren,
Sex Pistols,
Fear,
Eric Dolphy,
Grey Daturas,
Danielle Patucci,
Alice Coltrane,
Whodini,
Don Cherry,
Tres Demented,
The Offenders,
Mo-Dettes,
Girls At Our Best!,
Nik Kershaw,
Bad Manners,
Japan,
Sam Rivers,
Funkadelic,
The Stooges,
David McCallum,
Tim Buckley,
The Gladiators,
Duran Duran,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Boredoms,
Stetsasonic,
The Sonics,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Barclay James Harvest,
Deadbeat,
X-102,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Robert Görl,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Rhythm & Sound,
Amazonics,
The Birthday Party,
Soft Cell,
Derrick May,
Joensuu 1685,
Man Eating Sloth,
Eurythmics,
Blancmange,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
The Human League,
Ornette Coleman,
Public Image Ltd.,
Piero Umiliani,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Sound,
K-Klass,
Accadde A,
Arcadia, Arcadia, Arcadia, Arcadia.
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.