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 Taiwan and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 Lagos and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 snare 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 Sun City Girls to the punk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Boredoms. All the underground hits.
All Gastr Del Sol tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Wake record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Charles Mingus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes 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?
Arab on Radar,
Hardrive,
Jeru the Damaja,
B.T. Express,
Matthew Bourne,
Andrew Hill,
Porter Ricks,
Archie Shepp,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Rapeman,
E-Dancer,
Outsiders,
DJ Sneak,
Reuben Wilson,
Donald Byrd,
Joensuu 1685,
The Pop Group,
Funkadelic,
Boredoms,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Hot Snakes,
Symarip,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Rhythm & Sound,
Eve St. Jones,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Soft Cell,
Yellowson,
Ice-T,
Second Layer,
Bootsy Collins,
The Slackers,
Average White Band,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Davy DMX,
Pussy Galore,
Roy Ayers,
Barry Ungar,
Desert Stars,
The Mojo Men,
The Shadows of Knight,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Toasters,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Motorama,
Marvin Gaye,
Terry Callier,
The Fortunes,
Jacques Brel,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Jesper Dahlback,
ABBA,
Lee Hazlewood,
The United States of America,
World's Most,
Marmalade,
Radiohead,
Essential Logic,
R.M.O.,
Bush Tetras,
The Associates,
Easy Going,
Von Mondo, Von Mondo, Von Mondo, Von Mondo.
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.