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 Belgium and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Morten Harket to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 David Axelrod. All the underground hits.
All Loose Ends tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bob Dylan record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Flesh Eaters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Gories,
Robert Hood,
Iggy Pop,
X-101,
Harpers Bizarre,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Quadrant,
ABBA,
CMW,
Lalo Schifrin,
Aloha Tigers,
Susan Cadogan,
Cameo,
Niagra,
Section 25,
cv313,
John Foxx,
The Dirtbombs,
Cecil Taylor,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Gerry Rafferty,
Kerrie Biddell,
Metal Thangz,
Popol Vuh,
Mr. Review,
The Wake,
OOIOO,
Sight & Sound,
Nirvana,
Brothers Johnson,
Ultimate Spinach,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
R.M.O.,
Johnny Clarke,
Tears for Fears,
Max Romeo,
Gang Gang Dance,
The New Christs,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Gabor Szabo,
Can,
Jerry's Kids,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Standells,
Bob Dylan,
The Martian,
Gang Starr,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Mummies,
John Coltrane,
Roy Ayers,
The Velvet Underground,
Spandau Ballet,
Matthew Halsall,
The Gladiators,
Rapeman,
Eve St. Jones,
Rufus Thomas, Rufus Thomas, Rufus Thomas, Rufus Thomas.
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.