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 Mauritius and from Lille.
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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Erasure to the electroclash 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 Sarah Menescal. All the underground hits.
All Steve Hackett tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wire 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Severed Heads record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Searchers,
The Martian,
Theoretical Girls,
AZ,
Smog,
The Vogues,
The American Breed,
Andrew Hill,
Michelle Simonal,
Colin Newman,
Lucky Dragons,
Mr. Review,
Rufus Thomas,
Underground Resistance,
Alice Coltrane,
Eurythmics,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Heaven 17,
Intrusion,
Cameo,
Mark Hollis,
Dorothy Ashby,
PIL,
Scan 7,
Glenn Branca,
Yusef Lateef,
Nico,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Sixth Finger,
Barbara Tucker,
Max Romeo,
Ice-T,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Subhumans,
Grey Daturas,
the Normal,
The Young Rascals,
Ten City,
Sam Rivers,
Ossler,
Marine Girls,
Kool Moe Dee,
Nirvana,
World's Most,
Zapp,
Sun Ra,
The Grass Roots,
Steve Hackett,
Whodini,
Massinfluence,
Lee Hazlewood,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Drexciya,
Bill Near,
The Monks,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Real Kids,
Nik Kershaw,
Radiohead,
Sex Pistols,
Crispian St. Peters,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Excepter, Excepter, Excepter, Excepter.
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.