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 Micronesia and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 clarinet 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 Letta Mbulu 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 F. McDonald. All the underground hits.
All Bush Tetras tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Alice Coltrane record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fifty Foot Hose record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Martian,
Laurel Aitken,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Trumans Water,
The Music Machine,
The Buckinghams,
Barclay James Harvest,
R.M.O.,
Scientists,
Ten City,
The Stooges,
B.T. Express,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Slits,
Dual Sessions,
Kayak,
The Fire Engines,
Gang Green,
Sun City Girls,
Minor Threat,
Hoover,
Hasil Adkins,
Gil Scott Heron,
D'Angelo,
Don Cherry,
Juan Atkins,
X-Ray Spex,
Erykah Badu,
Blossom Toes,
H. Thieme,
Agent Orange,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Bobby Sherman,
the Sonics,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Toasters,
Jimmy McGriff,
the Soft Cell,
T. Rex,
The Smoke,
James White and The Blacks,
Marshall Jefferson,
Cybotron,
The Alarm Clocks,
10cc,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Mantronix,
Matthew Halsall,
Max Romeo,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Neil Young,
The Barracudas,
Von Mondo,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Dennis Brown,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Chris Corsano,
Freddie Wadling,
Gang of Four, Gang of Four, Gang of Four, Gang of Four.
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.