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 Yemen and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 oboe 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 Lower 48 to the punk 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 Girls At Our Best!. All the underground hits.
All The Zeros tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Aural Exciters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Vogues 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?
The Gladiators,
Fad Gadget,
Jawbox,
The Beau Brummels,
Japan,
Khruangbin,
Suicide,
The Knickerbockers,
Livin' Joy,
Bang On A Can,
Ten City,
Eve St. Jones,
Pagans,
Lucky Dragons,
Hasil Adkins,
Visage,
Supertramp,
Neu!,
The Standells,
Gastr Del Sol,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Searchers,
Robert Hood,
Toni Rubio,
Bob Dylan,
KRS-One,
Mad Mike,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Mo-Dettes,
Judy Mowatt,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Half Japanese,
Sun City Girls,
Quantec,
The Index,
Slave,
The Black Dice,
Scott Walker,
Tropical Tobacco,
Y Pants,
Bauhaus,
Cal Tjader,
Crime,
DJ Sneak,
Black Pus,
Bush Tetras,
Soft Machine,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Donny Hathaway,
Motorama,
Sonny Sharrock,
Make Up,
Nation of Ulysses,
Sandy B,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Tommy Roe,
The J.B.'s,
Gregory Isaacs,
Delon & Dalcan,
Lou Christie,
Wally Richardson,
Pulsallama,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks, Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks, Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks, Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks.
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.