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 Liberia and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 marimba 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 U.S. Maple to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 UT tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Yaz record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 mellotron and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gong record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Babytalk,
Eddi Front,
Maurizio,
Stetsasonic,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Lucky Dragons,
ABBA,
Black Moon,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Count Five,
the Normal,
Mission of Burma,
The Slits,
Robert Hood,
Avey Tare,
Aswad,
Jandek,
Arab on Radar,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Desert Stars,
Throbbing Gristle,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Terrestrial Tones,
R.M.O.,
Minutemen,
The Searchers,
Man Parrish,
Hot Snakes,
Graham Central Station,
Nick Fraelich,
ABC,
Siglo XX,
Rekid,
L. Decosne,
The Gladiators,
The Wake,
Von Mondo,
The Victims,
The Young Rascals,
Scrapy,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Aural Exciters,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Royal Trux,
Ronan,
Jeff Mills,
Talk Talk,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Lindisfarne,
Adolescents,
Moebius,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Barclay James Harvest,
Agent Orange,
Crispy Ambulance,
Aloha Tigers,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Martian,
Bobby Womack,
Ponytail, Ponytail, Ponytail, Ponytail.
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.