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 Moldova and from Salvador.
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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 Lou Reed 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 Gabor Szabo to the grime 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 The Cramps. All the underground hits.
All Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every FM Einheit record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wolf Eyes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Saints,
Todd Rundgren,
Jeff Mills,
Eddi Front,
The Beau Brummels,
Sällskapet,
Skarface,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Bronski Beat,
The Cowsills,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Magma,
Throbbing Gristle,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Nik Kershaw,
Television Personalities,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
48th St. Collective,
Trumans Water,
Robert Wyatt,
Ronan,
Loose Ends,
Rites of Spring,
Jacques Brel,
Icehouse,
Harry Pussy,
Surgeon,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Little Man,
David Axelrod,
Black Sheep,
Sandy B,
Lou Christie,
Whodini,
Main Source,
Arcadia,
New York Dolls,
Kurtis Blow,
Livin' Joy,
Fear,
Yaz,
Sonic Youth,
The New Christs,
Lou Reed,
Zero Boys,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
KRS-One,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Janne Schatter,
Bluetip,
Pantytec,
Hoover,
Second Layer,
Fat Boys,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Real Kids,
Carl Craig,
Blake Baxter,
Albert Ayler,
Can,
The J.B.'s,
Archie Shepp,
Sister Nancy, Sister Nancy, Sister Nancy, Sister Nancy.
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.