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 Philippines and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 theremin 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 Scott Walker + Sunn O))) to the rap kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Gian Franco Pienzio tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marshall Jefferson 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Roy Ayers Ubiquity record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Music Machine,
Suburban Knight,
Johnny Clarke,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
One Last Wish,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Byron Stingily,
Babytalk,
The Mummies,
Surgeon,
LL Cool J,
Spandau Ballet,
Television,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
the Human League,
Robert Görl,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Sonics,
Parry Music,
Mark Hollis,
Michelle Simonal,
The Slackers,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Lightning Bolt,
Alphaville,
48th St. Collective,
New Order,
Aloha Tigers,
T.S.O.L.,
Harry Pussy,
Jerry's Kids,
The Gun Club,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Joey Negro,
Con Funk Shun,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Flesh Eaters,
Maleditus Sound,
MC5,
Maurizio,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Tomorrow,
Yellowson,
Technova,
Cecil Taylor,
Morten Harket,
Moebius,
James White and The Blacks,
Eric B and Rakim,
Faust,
The Smiths,
Outsiders,
Fugazi,
Max Romeo,
Drexciya,
Ituana,
Matthew Bourne,
Wings,
Animal Collective,
Hoover, Hoover, Hoover, Hoover.
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.