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 Bulgaria and from Philadelphia.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Wally Richardson to the rap 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 Pere Ubu. All the underground hits.
All The Zeros tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Colin Newman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marmalade,
Electric Prunes,
The Dead C,
Moss Icon,
The Dirtbombs,
UT,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Smog,
The Saints,
China Crisis,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Moody Blues,
The Offenders,
Joe Smooth,
The Blackbyrds,
Severed Heads,
John Lydon,
Lalann,
Deakin,
Chrome,
Agitation Free,
Joey Negro,
Man Eating Sloth,
Brass Construction,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
New York Dolls,
Scion,
The J.B.'s,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Victims,
Gabor Szabo,
Minor Threat,
Guru Guru,
Eve St. Jones,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Pagans,
Black Sheep,
John Holt,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Absolute Body Control,
Kaleidoscope,
Section 25,
Rakim,
Lungfish,
Jesper Dahlback,
Mary Jane Girls,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Tres Demented,
Ultravox,
Eden Ahbez,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
The Music Machine,
Pussy Galore,
Oneida,
Mission of Burma,
The Angels of Light,
Inner City,
Soulsonic Force,
Sonic Youth,
Khruangbin, Khruangbin, Khruangbin, Khruangbin.
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.