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 Suriname 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 1969 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Sisters of Mercy to the dance kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Simply Red. All the underground hits.
All Robert Wyatt tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Victims record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 mellotron and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tom Boy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Half Japanese,
Janne Schatter,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Clear Light,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Alton Ellis,
Gang Green,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Interpol,
Intrusion,
Crime,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Howard Jones,
A Certain Ratio,
Organ,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
D'Angelo,
Chris Corsano,
Ponytail,
Guru Guru,
The Fire Engines,
Fad Gadget,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Black Sheep,
Fela Kuti,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Brass Construction,
The Busters,
Accadde A,
Brothers Johnson,
The Kinks,
The Last Poets,
Crispy Ambulance,
Amazonics,
Monks,
Dawn Penn,
Bauhaus,
The Wake,
Scott Walker,
Johnny Clarke,
Robert Hood,
David McCallum,
Hot Snakes,
Bill Wells,
Mandrill,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
John Lydon,
Black Bananas,
Cybotron,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Pretty Things,
Eve St. Jones,
Easy Going,
The Neon Judgement,
Make Up,
DNA,
Rotary Connection,
Morten Harket,
Andrew Hill,
Heavy D & The Boyz, Heavy D & The Boyz, Heavy D & The Boyz, Heavy D & The Boyz.
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.