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 Costa Rica and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 güiro 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 Absolute Body Control to the funk 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 Country Teasers. All the underground hits.
All Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Donald Byrd 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nirvana record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Barclay James Harvest,
Oneida,
Blossom Toes,
Fat Boys,
Flamin' Groovies,
Andrew Hill,
Mary Jane Girls,
Wally Richardson,
Young Marble Giants,
Don Cherry,
Stiv Bators,
Al Stewart,
John Foxx,
Josef K,
The Kinks,
X-101,
The Electric Prunes,
The Birthday Party,
The Toasters,
a-ha,
Angry Samoans,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Curtis Mayfield,
Skarface,
Gil Scott Heron,
Mad Mike,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Max Romeo,
Royal Trux,
Sixth Finger,
The Remains,
Pierre Henry,
Amazonics,
Moby Grape,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Barbara Tucker,
Cecil Taylor,
Tubeway Army,
Ludus,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
KRS-One,
The Gun Club,
Joy Division,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Flesh Eaters,
Y Pants,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Zeros,
Junior Murvin,
Fela Kuti,
Organ,
The Real Kids,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
X-Ray Spex,
Au Pairs,
Infiniti,
The Seeds,
Hasil Adkins,
Traffic Nightmare,
Ornette Coleman,
Smog, Smog, Smog, Smog.
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.