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 Liechtenstein and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 mellotron 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 Terrestrial Tones to the disco 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 Monks. All the underground hits.
All Arcadia tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Quantec record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Circle Jerks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rites of Spring,
The Count Five,
Country Joe & The Fish,
X-Ray Spex,
Black Bananas,
The Kinks,
Harry Pussy,
Gang Starr,
Suicide,
Lightning Bolt,
New Order,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Lower 48,
Spandau Ballet,
H. Thieme,
Sällskapet,
Blancmange,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Jacques Brel,
Electric Light Orchestra,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Slick Rick,
Gil Scott Heron,
Bobbi Humphrey,
X-101,
B.T. Express,
Stetsasonic,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Kerri Chandler,
Dawn Penn,
10cc,
The Gladiators,
Mandrill,
Max Romeo,
Archie Shepp,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Electric Prunes,
Whodini,
Kerrie Biddell,
Erasure,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Los Fastidios,
The Associates,
Ludus,
Man Parrish,
Cybotron,
Roxette,
Brick,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Move,
The Martian,
The Selecter,
Duran Duran,
Prince Buster,
Faraquet,
Wings,
Minnie Riperton,
Black Pus,
Nas,
The Offenders, The Offenders, The Offenders, The Offenders.
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.