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 Taiwan and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 808 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 United States of America to the grunge 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 X-102. All the underground hits.
All Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every H. Thieme 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 a 808 and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Youth Brigade record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eyeless In Gaza,
Siglo XX,
Al Stewart,
Fugazi,
Pere Ubu,
Todd Terry,
New Age Steppers,
Organ,
World's Most,
Vainqueur,
The Dead C,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Mantronix,
Tubeway Army,
Yazoo,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Sonic Youth,
Todd Rundgren,
Q and Not U,
Marcia Griffiths,
Unwound,
John Cale,
Camberwell Now,
Sex Pistols,
The Victims,
Henry Cow,
Black Flag,
Lucky Dragons,
Cluster,
Magma,
Ten City,
DNA,
Barry Ungar,
Moebius,
June of 44,
Radiohead,
Alice Coltrane,
The Human League,
Andrew Hill,
Funky Four + One,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Young Rascals,
Kerri Chandler,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Monochrome Set,
Eddi Front,
Marmalade,
Crash Course in Science,
T.S.O.L.,
The Residents,
Laurel Aitken,
Johnny Osbourne,
Jerry's Kids,
Soft Machine,
Tres Demented,
The Monks,
Kool Moe Dee,
Duran Duran,
The Tremeloes,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Man Parrish, Man Parrish, Man Parrish, Man Parrish.
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.