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 Russia and from Sao Paulo.
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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 The Grass Roots to the dance kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Letta Mbulu. All the underground hits.
All Arab on Radar tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every David McCallum record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 synthesizer and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fear,
The Remains,
Man Parrish,
Second Layer,
Sexual Harrassment,
These Immortal Souls,
Subhumans,
Section 25,
The Move,
The Standells,
Soulsonic Force,
Rites of Spring,
Eli Mardock,
Excepter,
Glenn Branca,
Pierre Henry,
Country Teasers,
In Retrospect,
Minor Threat,
Jawbox,
The Alarm Clocks,
Fat Boys,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Grandmaster Flash,
Idris Muhammad,
Peter and Kerry,
The Real Kids,
Yusef Lateef,
China Crisis,
The Cure,
Sonny Sharrock,
Mars,
Eve St. Jones,
Amon Düül,
Electric Prunes,
The Blackbyrds,
Surgeon,
Pussy Galore,
MC5,
Masters at Work,
Gong,
The Techniques,
Faraquet,
Scrapy,
The Seeds,
UT,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Terrestrial Tones,
Eric B and Rakim,
Kayak,
Sarah Menescal,
Tubeway Army,
Flamin' Groovies,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Theoretical Girls,
Rotary Connection,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Birthday Party,
Nick Fraelich,
Radio Birdman,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Scan 7, Scan 7, Scan 7, Scan 7.
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.