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 Senegal and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 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 Richard Hell and the Voidoids to the rap kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Agitation Free. All the underground hits.
All Robert Hood tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Howard Jones record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Swell Maps record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Searchers,
Heaven 17,
Henry Cow,
Scan 7,
Skriet,
MC5,
Au Pairs,
Royal Trux,
The Electric Prunes,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Das Ding,
Deepchord,
Cecil Taylor,
Sunsets and Hearts,
David McCallum,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Rites of Spring,
Moby Grape,
Lou Reed,
Jeru the Damaja,
DNA,
Vladislav Delay,
Marmalade,
Carl Craig,
The Blues Magoos,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Pussy Galore,
Ultravox,
L. Decosne,
Japan,
Slick Rick,
UT,
The Pretty Things,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
The Doors,
Lucky Dragons,
Nik Kershaw,
Pantaleimon,
Animal Collective,
The Black Dice,
The Neon Judgement,
48th St. Collective,
Television Personalities,
Man Eating Sloth,
Quantec,
Deakin,
The American Breed,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Names,
MDC,
Robert Hood,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Rod Modell,
Rufus Thomas,
Junior Murvin,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Duran Duran,
Second Layer,
Dead Boys,
OOIOO,
Newcleus,
Soft Machine, Soft Machine, Soft Machine, Soft Machine.
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.