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 Egypt and from Mumbai.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Brass Construction 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 Cheater Slicks. All the underground hits.
All Frankie Knuckles tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kevin Saunderson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Newcleus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Wasted Youth,
Charles Mingus,
Banda Bassotti,
The Beau Brummels,
Connie Case,
Todd Terry,
Adolescents,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Brass Construction,
Dark Day,
Donald Byrd,
Aaron Thompson,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Delta 5,
Wire,
Lebanon Hanover,
Joe Finger,
Visage,
Underground Resistance,
Soul Sonic Force,
Jimmy McGriff,
Lalann,
Tubeway Army,
Newcleus,
Yaz,
Porter Ricks,
Barrington Levy,
The Associates,
Byron Stingily,
Morten Harket,
Khruangbin,
Wings,
Josef K,
Cheater Slicks,
James White and The Blacks,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Frankie Knuckles,
Black Pus,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Lucky Dragons,
Hot Snakes,
Q and Not U,
The Motions,
Traffic Nightmare,
Marmalade,
ABC,
Faraquet,
John Lydon,
Electric Prunes,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Busters,
Ken Boothe,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Sun City Girls,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Malaria!,
the Bar-Kays,
Crispian St. Peters,
Arcadia,
Faust,
Crime, Crime, Crime, Crime.
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.