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 Accra.
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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Bootsy's Rubber Band 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 The Mummies. All the underground hits.
All Terror Squad Feat. Camron tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eurythmics 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Robert Wyatt record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lalann,
Y Pants,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Move,
Icehouse,
Magma,
Matthew Bourne,
Minny Pops,
Chris & Cosey,
Sight & Sound,
Lee Hazlewood,
Erykah Badu,
Eyeless In Gaza,
T. Rex,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Bush Tetras,
Symarip,
Rod Modell,
Henry Cow,
The Gladiators,
Loose Ends,
Whodini,
Ponytail,
The Seeds,
Cecil Taylor,
Rotary Connection,
Barry Ungar,
Gastr Del Sol,
Aural Exciters,
Jandek,
Panda Bear,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Kurtis Blow,
Lyres,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Piero Umiliani,
Bizarre Inc.,
Pussy Galore,
E-Dancer,
The Raincoats,
The Smoke,
Chrome,
This Heat,
Grey Daturas,
Von Mondo,
the Soft Cell,
Joy Division,
Make Up,
Tubeway Army,
Ultra Naté,
Pharoah Sanders,
Magazine,
Ohio Players,
Zero Boys,
Main Source,
Pylon,
Agent Orange,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Gun Club,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Metal Thangz,
Fatback Band, Fatback Band, Fatback Band, Fatback Band.
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.