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 Afghanistan and from Beijing.
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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Shoche 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 Pharoah Sanders. All the underground hits.
All Lightning Bolt tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Camouflage record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Last Poets record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Thee Headcoats,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Fatback Band,
Rapeman,
Basic Channel,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
AZ,
Aural Exciters,
Malaria!,
Sun City Girls,
Cymande,
John Coltrane,
The Count Five,
Country Teasers,
Lindisfarne,
Massinfluence,
Bang On A Can,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Iggy Pop,
Mission of Burma,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Smoke,
Inner City,
Flipper,
The Blackbyrds,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Black Bananas,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Jeru the Damaja,
The Kinks,
Fela Kuti,
The Young Rascals,
a-ha,
The Martian,
Danielle Patucci,
Ultimate Spinach,
Crash Course in Science,
Man Eating Sloth,
X-102,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
One Last Wish,
Wasted Youth,
Traffic Nightmare,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Radiopuhelimet,
Von Mondo,
Boredoms,
June of 44,
Stereo Dub,
ABC,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Modern Lovers,
Bush Tetras,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Scan 7,
Y Pants,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Motorama,
Bill Wells, Bill Wells, Bill Wells, Bill Wells.
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.