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 Bangladesh and from Accra.
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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Young Rascals to the funk 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 The Moody Blues. All the underground hits.
All Ituana tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Public Enemy 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
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 Lou Reed & Metallica record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Coltrane,
Deadbeat,
The Happenings,
Kevin Saunderson,
Beasts of Bourbon,
T. Rex,
Animal Collective,
Gerry Rafferty,
Livin' Joy,
Gregory Isaacs,
Symarip,
The Velvet Underground,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Joyce Sims,
Iggy Pop,
Pole,
Fatback Band,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Pretty Things,
Soft Cell,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Radiohead,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Rakim,
Archie Shepp,
Subhumans,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Drexciya,
Glenn Branca,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Tommy Roe,
Lou Christie,
Tres Demented,
Flash Fearless,
Judy Mowatt,
Swans,
Mo-Dettes,
Deepchord,
KRS-One,
Public Enemy,
Moebius,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Lalann,
Robert Wyatt,
Sam Rivers,
The Smiths,
Eric B and Rakim,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Cure,
X-Ray Spex,
The Index,
The Gap Band,
The Smoke,
Faust,
Tomorrow,
Vladislav Delay,
Skaos,
Babytalk,
Kenny Larkin,
Negative Approach,
Jacques Brel,
Susan Cadogan, Susan Cadogan, Susan Cadogan, Susan Cadogan.
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.