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 South Africa and from Cairo.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Suburban Knight to the funk 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 Soft Machine. All the underground hits.
All Major Organ And The Adding Machine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every DNA 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Searchers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
David Bowie,
Thompson Twins,
The Invisible,
Bobby Womack,
The Remains,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Surgeon,
Warren Ellis,
Oblivians,
Leonard Cohen,
Eyeless In Gaza,
the Sonics,
Piero Umiliani,
Duran Duran,
The Blackbyrds,
These Immortal Souls,
Aswad,
Marcia Griffiths,
Barbara Tucker,
Stetsasonic,
Panda Bear,
Henry Cow,
World's Most,
Mr. Review,
Visage,
Marvin Gaye,
Darondo,
Amon Düül II,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Susan Cadogan,
The Black Dice,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
the Swans,
Terrestrial Tones,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
a-ha,
Sandy B,
Lalo Schifrin,
CMW,
Vladislav Delay,
OOIOO,
Byron Stingily,
Tres Demented,
Moby Grape,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Marine Girls,
The Blues Magoos,
Archie Shepp,
Ornette Coleman,
Harmonia,
The Barracudas,
Colin Newman,
Cecil Taylor,
Camberwell Now,
Fela Kuti,
The Mojo Men,
The Saints,
Motorama,
Bill Wells, Bill Wells, Bill Wells, Bill Wells.
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.