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 Kiribati and from Copenhagen.
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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Bremen.
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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the marimba 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 Young Marble Giants to the dance kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 The Human League. All the underground hits.
All Fela Kuti tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Suicide record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Steve Hackett record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Flesh Eaters,
the Germs,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Invisible,
The Moleskins,
The Red Krayola,
The Busters,
Eric Copeland,
Chris & Cosey,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Skatalites,
Hasil Adkins,
Aloha Tigers,
The Smiths,
Patti Smith,
Malaria!,
Black Pus,
Sam Rivers,
The Searchers,
The Wake,
Goldenarms,
Motorama,
Moby Grape,
Suicide,
Easy Going,
Ultimate Spinach,
Popol Vuh,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Archie Shepp,
Arthur Verocai,
Deepchord,
Peter & Gordon,
David McCallum,
Boredoms,
The Associates,
Ossler,
Mad Mike,
The J.B.'s,
Fluxion,
Echospace,
Albert Ayler,
CMW,
Sixth Finger,
Wings,
Ralphi Rosario,
Tim Buckley,
Joyce Sims,
Accadde A,
Eddi Front,
Andrew Hill,
Magazine,
Cameo,
Wire,
Eve St. Jones,
Pere Ubu,
Duran Duran,
The Offenders,
Mars,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Cal Tjader,
The Neon Judgement,
Roxette, Roxette, Roxette, Roxette.
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.