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 Saudi Arabia and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1969 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Absolute Body Control to the crunk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Mummies. All the underground hits.
All The J.B.'s tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Stereo Dub record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fortunes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Lydon,
Joyce Sims,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Avey Tare,
Harpers Bizarre,
Matthew Halsall,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Red Krayola,
Minnie Riperton,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Laurel Aitken,
DNA,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Happenings,
The Electric Prunes,
Cameo,
The Count Five,
kango's stein massive,
Ralphi Rosario,
Maurizio,
Boogie Down Productions,
Roxette,
Pulsallama,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Move,
Peter and Kerry,
Donny Hathaway,
Underground Resistance,
The Detroit Cobras,
Jeff Lynne,
the Association,
Technova,
Ten City,
Bill Wells,
La Düsseldorf,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Dirtbombs,
Vainqueur,
Dark Day,
H. Thieme,
Cal Tjader,
Stiv Bators,
Junior Murvin,
Arcadia,
Dawn Penn,
Monolake,
The Knickerbockers,
June of 44,
The Trojans,
The Human League,
Angry Samoans,
Kenny Larkin,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Stereo Dub,
Lou Christie,
Lalo Schifrin,
Rites of Spring,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Lightning Bolt,
Steve Hackett,
Echo & the Bunnymen, Echo & the Bunnymen, Echo & the Bunnymen, Echo & the Bunnymen.
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.