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 Canada and from Philadelphia.
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 1968 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Cairo.
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 1970 at the first Onyeabor practice in a loft in Enugu.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 A Flock of Seagulls to the techno 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 Unwound. All the underground hits.
All Au Pairs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fluxion record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 rhodes and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Human League record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tom Boy,
The Mummies,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
the Fania All-Stars,
8 Eyed Spy,
Dual Sessions,
June of 44,
Bob Dylan,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
X-101,
The Slits,
Amon Düül,
Althea and Donna,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Lindisfarne,
Y Pants,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Misunderstood,
The Cowsills,
Urselle,
Max Romeo,
Echospace,
Shoche,
Banda Bassotti,
The Sound,
Nik Kershaw,
Bobby Womack,
Khruangbin,
Babytalk,
Darondo,
Josef K,
The Toasters,
Pierre Henry,
Roy Ayers,
Aswad,
Bush Tetras,
Grandmaster Flash,
Don Cherry,
Joensuu 1685,
Camberwell Now,
Big Daddy Kane,
Byron Stingily,
Underground Resistance,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Gastr Del Sol,
H. Thieme,
MC5,
The Fall,
The Kinks,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Idris Muhammad,
Connie Case,
Eden Ahbez,
AZ,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Harry Pussy,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Tremeloes,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Aaron Thompson,
Sonny Sharrock,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Alison Limerick, Alison Limerick, Alison Limerick, Alison Limerick.
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.