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 Colombia and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Paris.
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 theremin 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 Bobby Byrd to the dance kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band. All the underground hits.
All Urselle tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Slits record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Strawberry Alarm Clock record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Susan Cadogan,
Smog,
Iggy Pop,
B.T. Express,
Sister Nancy,
John Holt,
T. Rex,
Brothers Johnson,
Porter Ricks,
Ken Boothe,
David McCallum,
The Litter,
Ornette Coleman,
The Beau Brummels,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Skriet,
Anthony Braxton,
Kayak,
The Martian,
The Leaves,
Terry Callier,
Yellowson,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Slits,
OOIOO,
Soft Machine,
Lebanon Hanover,
Brand Nubian,
Tres Demented,
Mo-Dettes,
Josef K,
Soul Sonic Force,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Kas Product,
CMW,
Junior Murvin,
Rapeman,
Jeff Mills,
The Fall,
Hardrive,
Peter and Kerry,
Dawn Penn,
Skarface,
The Moleskins,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Residents,
Symarip,
Bad Manners,
Scan 7,
Organ,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Laurel Aitken,
Bob Dylan,
Bobby Sherman,
Surgeon,
Swell Maps,
The Fire Engines,
Man Parrish,
Alice Coltrane,
Nico,
Kaleidoscope,
Harry Pussy,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Black Dice, The Black Dice, The Black Dice, The Black Dice.
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.