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 Lille.
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 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Crispy Ambulance 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 Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds. All the underground hits.
All Neil Young & Crazy Horse tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ultimate Spinach record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 güiro and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Manfred Mann's Earth Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Barry Ungar,
Siglo XX,
Symarip,
Kerri Chandler,
Ice-T,
Suicide,
Sugar Minott,
Avey Tare,
Rosa Yemen,
Reuben Wilson,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Wake,
Howard Jones,
Fela Kuti,
Terrestrial Tones,
Dave Gahan,
The Seeds,
Joe Smooth,
Ronnie Foster,
H. Thieme,
Yaz,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Drive Like Jehu,
Kaleidoscope,
Ralphi Rosario,
Marshall Jefferson,
Au Pairs,
Arthur Verocai,
The Moleskins,
Lightning Bolt,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
John Cale,
James White and The Blacks,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Radio Birdman,
ABBA,
Animal Collective,
The Smoke,
The Black Dice,
Derrick Morgan,
Man Eating Sloth,
Jacob Miller,
Angry Samoans,
Grandmaster Flash,
Man Parrish,
Gang Starr,
Soft Machine,
Lee Hazlewood,
Wire,
B.T. Express,
Byron Stingily,
Pussy Galore,
kango's stein massive,
Sun Ra,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The United States of America,
Archie Shepp,
Harpers Bizarre,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Warsaw,
Loose Ends, Loose Ends, Loose Ends, Loose Ends.
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.