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 Afghanistan and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 guitar 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 Eric Dolphy to the disco kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 L. Decosne. All the underground hits.
All Jimmy McGriff tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Strawberry Alarm Clock record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 harpsichord and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pussy Galore record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pole,
Idris Muhammad,
Mission of Burma,
Ultra Naté,
Crime,
Cybotron,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Supertramp,
Reuben Wilson,
Lucky Dragons,
Procol Harum,
Buzzcocks,
Zapp,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Lyres,
Eric Copeland,
David McCallum,
Alphaville,
Bobby Sherman,
Bronski Beat,
John Cale,
T. Rex,
Pulsallama,
Mr. Review,
Swans,
The Raincoats,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Birthday Party,
Pylon,
Ultravox,
Mantronix,
Erykah Badu,
New York Dolls,
Chris & Cosey,
Roy Ayers,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Siglo XX,
AZ,
Tomorrow,
Rekid,
The Litter,
Shoche,
Joe Finger,
Unwound,
Black Moon,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Todd Terry,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Sound Behaviour,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Lightning Bolt,
Main Source,
Model 500,
Whodini,
EPMD,
This Heat,
Camberwell Now,
Rotary Connection,
New Age Steppers,
Negative Approach,
Smog,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Fela Kuti, Fela Kuti, Fela Kuti, Fela Kuti.
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.