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 Azerbaijan and from Cairo.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Blossom Toes to the grime 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 Mission of Burma. All the underground hits.
All Gichy Dan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Aaron Thompson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 an arpeggiator and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ice-T record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Ken Boothe,
Blake Baxter,
Jimmy McGriff,
Guru Guru,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Swans,
Marc Almond,
Bush Tetras,
DNA,
The Fire Engines,
Q and Not U,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Carl Craig,
Television,
Scratch Acid,
Piero Umiliani,
Bronski Beat,
Suicide,
Shoche,
Reagan Youth,
Ultra Naté,
Rufus Thomas,
Boz Scaggs,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
John Foxx,
The Neon Judgement,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
June of 44,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Robert Hood,
Skarface,
Fela Kuti,
The Moody Blues,
Stereo Dub,
LL Cool J,
The Alarm Clocks,
Pole,
Radio Birdman,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Cramps,
Mantronix,
8 Eyed Spy,
Mars,
The Last Poets,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Tom Boy,
Amon Düül II,
Sex Pistols,
Roxette,
AZ,
Jacques Brel,
Organ,
The Fugs,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Ornette Coleman,
Zapp,
Black Sheep,
Simply Red,
Bang On A Can,
Pagans,
Susan Cadogan,
Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd.
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.