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 Serbia and from Woodstock.
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 1963 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Public Enemy to the grunge kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Tres Demented. All the underground hits.
All Brass Construction tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every One Last Wish record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ultimate Spinach record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Divine Comedy,
R.M.O.,
Roxette,
Tom Boy,
Buzzcocks,
John Foxx,
Dave Gahan,
Dark Day,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Mr. Review,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Outsiders,
Quando Quango,
The Star Department,
The Remains,
X-Ray Spex,
Dead Boys,
Derrick Morgan,
Terrestrial Tones,
U.S. Maple,
Sexual Harrassment,
Skarface,
The Residents,
Cal Tjader,
Zero Boys,
Todd Terry,
The Offenders,
Graham Central Station,
Aswad,
The J.B.'s,
Ralphi Rosario,
Marvin Gaye,
Rakim,
Chris & Cosey,
The Young Rascals,
Michelle Simonal,
Ultimate Spinach,
Deakin,
JFA,
Pere Ubu,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
One Last Wish,
the Slits,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Yellowson,
Hashim,
B.T. Express,
Mark Hollis,
Darondo,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Last Poets,
Desert Stars,
Funkadelic,
Colin Newman,
The Slits,
Little Man,
New York Dolls,
Black Sheep,
Radio Birdman,
Arthur Verocai,
Zapp,
Harmonia,
The Zeros,
Metal Thangz, Metal Thangz, Metal Thangz, Metal Thangz.
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.