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 Finland and from Winnipeg.
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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 chamberlin 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 Sonny Sharrock to the punk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Crime. All the underground hits.
All Roxy Music tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Aswad record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 rhodes and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Angels of Light record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Drexciya,
Dual Sessions,
The Pretty Things,
Roxy Music,
Hoover,
Lalo Schifrin,
Fela Kuti,
The Smoke,
Gregory Isaacs,
Thompson Twins,
DJ Sneak,
Hot Snakes,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Cluster,
Gil Scott Heron,
Camouflage,
Judy Mowatt,
Brass Construction,
Black Pus,
Suburban Knight,
Carl Craig,
Moebius,
Subhumans,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Funky Four + One,
Al Stewart,
Robert Hood,
Mary Jane Girls,
Organ,
Byron Stingily,
Amazonics,
the Slits,
Ludus,
Index,
The Dirtbombs,
Hasil Adkins,
Negative Approach,
David Axelrod,
MC5,
The American Breed,
Pierre Henry,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Harpers Bizarre,
Rhythm & Sound,
June of 44,
Anakelly,
AZ,
Swell Maps,
Prince Buster,
Leonard Cohen,
Reuben Wilson,
Lindisfarne,
Eddi Front,
Funkadelic,
Desert Stars,
Theoretical Girls,
Gastr Del Sol,
Hardrive,
The Young Rascals,
The Move,
Danielle Patucci,
Lucky Dragons, Lucky Dragons, Lucky Dragons, Lucky Dragons.
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.