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 Micronesia and from Lagos.
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 1965 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
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 Young Marble Giants to the punk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Terry Callier. All the underground hits.
All The Moody Blues tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Half Japanese record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
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 De La Soul & Jungle Brothers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scion,
The Dirtbombs,
Eric Copeland,
Wire,
Aswad,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Wolf Eyes,
Fad Gadget,
Jeru the Damaja,
Eden Ahbez,
Neu!,
Camouflage,
Rekid,
The Velvet Underground,
Black Flag,
Byron Stingily,
Soulsonic Force,
The Victims,
Franke,
CMW,
The Fire Engines,
Peter and Kerry,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Pharoah Sanders,
Yellowson,
David Bowie,
Talk Talk,
Grey Daturas,
X-102,
Dead Boys,
AZ,
Stetsasonic,
Popol Vuh,
The Real Kids,
the Germs,
Au Pairs,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Drive Like Jehu,
Rufus Thomas,
Heaven 17,
The Smoke,
B.T. Express,
The Durutti Column,
The Remains,
Crispy Ambulance,
Metal Thangz,
Traffic Nightmare,
Derrick May,
Pantytec,
Model 500,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Steve Hackett,
Bill Near,
Malaria!,
Arab on Radar,
The Dead C,
Audionom,
The Angels of Light,
Q and Not U,
Organ, Organ, Organ, Organ.
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.