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 Mali and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Milan.
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 1970 at the first Onyeabor practice in a loft in Enugu.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Richard Hell and the Voidoids to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Sam Rivers. All the underground hits.
All Neil Young tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Evens 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Drexciya record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
X-101,
Saccharine Trust,
Ludus,
Organ,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Barracudas,
Blancmange,
Swell Maps,
Arcadia,
Groovy Waters,
Slave,
The Music Machine,
Make Up,
London Community Gospel Choir,
New Age Steppers,
Soul Sonic Force,
X-Ray Spex,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Harpers Bizarre,
Schoolly D,
Alice Coltrane,
Pharoah Sanders,
Brothers Johnson,
The Alarm Clocks,
Kool Moe Dee,
Metal Thangz,
The Flesh Eaters,
Niagra,
Von Mondo,
Letta Mbulu,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Gang Green,
The Offenders,
Gong,
Stockholm Monsters,
Tears for Fears,
Glambeats Corp.,
Juan Atkins,
The Toasters,
CMW,
Theoretical Girls,
Kenny Larkin,
F. McDonald,
The Seeds,
Guru Guru,
Matthew Halsall,
Kurtis Blow,
Rakim,
D'Angelo,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Pantaleimon,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Sonny Sharrock,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Patti Smith,
Mission of Burma,
The Remains,
Yaz,
Brick,
Lindisfarne,
John Cale,
Minutemen, Minutemen, Minutemen, Minutemen.
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.