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 Brunei and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 Houston and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Traffic Nightmare to the jazz kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Nick Fraelich. All the underground hits.
All Pantaleimon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Beau Brummels record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 a clarinet and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a DeepChord presents Echospace record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Chrome,
Au Pairs,
Fela Kuti,
The United States of America,
Grauzone,
Black Pus,
Gong,
The Saints,
Fluxion,
Roy Ayers,
Simply Red,
The Beau Brummels,
Blancmange,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Joe Smooth,
Maleditus Sound,
Jeff Lynne,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Audionom,
Howard Jones,
Brand Nubian,
Ralphi Rosario,
Royal Trux,
Scott Walker,
Bob Dylan,
Eurythmics,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Clear Light,
Blossom Toes,
Crime,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Scratch Acid,
Vainqueur,
John Cale,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Rites of Spring,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Sam Rivers,
Zapp,
Derrick Morgan,
Man Parrish,
Schoolly D,
La Düsseldorf,
Arcadia,
the Normal,
Radio Birdman,
Adolescents,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Desert Stars,
Popol Vuh,
Avey Tare,
Susan Cadogan,
Toni Rubio,
Goldenarms,
Tim Buckley,
Gichy Dan,
Archie Shepp,
Brick,
The Motions,
Sexual Harrassment,
Oneida, Oneida, Oneida, Oneida.
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.