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 Djibouti and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1966 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Mexico City.
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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the organ 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 Pussy Galore to the techno kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Skarface. All the underground hits.
All Pet Shop Boys tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Yellowson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 clarinet and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Walker Brothers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Young Rascals,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Kurtis Blow,
Little Man,
Andrew Hill,
Gang Starr,
Newcleus,
The Raincoats,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Eden Ahbez,
Rosa Yemen,
The Dirtbombs,
The Five Americans,
OOIOO,
The Slackers,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Yaz,
Moby Grape,
Cheater Slicks,
The Electric Prunes,
Sight & Sound,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Absolute Body Control,
X-Ray Spex,
Whodini,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
World's Most,
DJ Sneak,
Dawn Penn,
Robert Wyatt,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Smog,
Maleditus Sound,
Black Moon,
K-Klass,
Bauhaus,
Metal Thangz,
Tubeway Army,
John Coltrane,
New York Dolls,
Althea and Donna,
Pulsallama,
The Fortunes,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Lungfish,
Hoover,
Suburban Knight,
Suicide,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Sexual Harrassment,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Wings,
Ituana,
Neu!,
The Move,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Quadrant,
Half Japanese,
The Smiths,
Big Daddy Kane, Big Daddy Kane, Big Daddy Kane, Big Daddy Kane.
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.