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 Portugal and from Woodstock.
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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 Lou Reed 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 Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Outsiders. All the underground hits.
All Wally Richardson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Glenn Branca 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Harmonia record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Amon Düül,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Mr. Review,
The Skatalites,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Sonic Youth,
Derrick May,
MC5,
Blancmange,
The Doors,
John Foxx,
H. Thieme,
Eve St. Jones,
Television Personalities,
Boredoms,
The Modern Lovers,
Ralphi Rosario,
Kerri Chandler,
Monolake,
Sixth Finger,
Charles Mingus,
The Gladiators,
Flipper,
The Zeros,
Thompson Twins,
Lindisfarne,
Cecil Taylor,
The Birthday Party,
The Offenders,
Ultimate Spinach,
Nik Kershaw,
Mars,
Scrapy,
F. McDonald,
B.T. Express,
Sun Ra,
Thee Headcoats,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Sound,
Mad Mike,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Big Daddy Kane,
Moss Icon,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Bill Wells,
Country Teasers,
The Grass Roots,
Sound Behaviour,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Scott Walker,
Moebius,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
David Axelrod,
Henry Cow,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Morten Harket,
Bobby Byrd,
Youth Brigade,
Wings,
The Blues Magoos,
Max Romeo,
Crispian St. Peters,
Rites of Spring, Rites of Spring, Rites of Spring, Rites of Spring.
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.