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 Greece and from Delhi.
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 1962 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 The Detroit Cobras to the disco 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 Television. All the underground hits.
All Scan 7 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Henry Cow 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Traffic Nightmare record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Motorama,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
John Holt,
These Immortal Souls,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Scientists,
The Golliwogs,
Roger Hodgson,
Essential Logic,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Charles Mingus,
Bobby Womack,
La Düsseldorf,
T.S.O.L.,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Urselle,
Monolake,
Cheater Slicks,
Matthew Halsall,
John Lydon,
The Mummies,
The Smoke,
The Selecter,
Maurizio,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Dead C,
Derrick Morgan,
The Standells,
The Tremeloes,
Bluetip,
Warren Ellis,
the Swans,
Flipper,
Eve St. Jones,
The United States of America,
Scratch Acid,
Pagans,
The Misunderstood,
Circle Jerks,
Duran Duran,
The Moody Blues,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Eli Mardock,
Khruangbin,
One Last Wish,
Tomorrow,
Whodini,
The Residents,
Girls At Our Best!,
Barbara Tucker,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Durutti Column,
Aswad,
The Slits,
The Dirtbombs,
New York Dolls,
The Toasters,
Sandy B,
The Velvet Underground,
The Vogues,
Harmonia,
Kango’s Stein Massive, Kango’s Stein Massive, Kango’s Stein Massive, Kango’s Stein Massive.
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.