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 Malta and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 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 the Slits to the crunk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Organ. All the underground hits.
All Reuben Wilson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Drexciya 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lou Reed & John Cale record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare 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?
The New Christs,
Letta Mbulu,
The Saints,
Lindisfarne,
The Grass Roots,
Bob Dylan,
K-Klass,
Amazonics,
Lebanon Hanover,
the Normal,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Skarface,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Barrington Levy,
Eric B and Rakim,
Sun City Girls,
The Alarm Clocks,
Bizarre Inc.,
48th St. Collective,
Marine Girls,
Isaac Hayes,
Angry Samoans,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Roy Ayers,
Jawbox,
Minutemen,
Au Pairs,
Magma,
Theoretical Girls,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Beau Brummels,
Crash Course in Science,
Urselle,
The Red Krayola,
Suburban Knight,
Donny Hathaway,
Sex Pistols,
The Names,
Spandau Ballet,
James White and The Blacks,
The Fire Engines,
Tom Boy,
Mantronix,
Don Cherry,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Grauzone,
The Leaves,
Glenn Branca,
Ornette Coleman,
June of 44,
Josef K,
E-Dancer,
Tropical Tobacco,
Loose Ends,
The Wake,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Technova,
The Knickerbockers,
Lucky Dragons,
Kerri Chandler,
Skriet, Skriet, Skriet, Skriet.
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.