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 the UAE and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Halifax.
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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Nik Kershaw to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Alphaville. All the underground hits.
All Brothers Johnson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jacques Brel 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gabor Szabo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
X-101,
kango's stein massive,
Mandrill,
Neu!,
Eddi Front,
Harry Pussy,
Man Eating Sloth,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
D'Angelo,
Ultimate Spinach,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Big Daddy Kane,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Siglo XX,
Lalo Schifrin,
Chris Corsano,
Minnie Riperton,
The Happenings,
Ken Boothe,
Pantytec,
Dead Boys,
Agitation Free,
Dawn Penn,
Barry Ungar,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Gap Band,
Saccharine Trust,
Eric Copeland,
Model 500,
Quando Quango,
Ituana,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Ice-T,
Throbbing Gristle,
Skriet,
Groovy Waters,
Thee Headcoats,
New York Dolls,
Slave,
Desert Stars,
The Fugs,
Zero Boys,
Chrome,
Ultra Naté,
The Selecter,
Pantaleimon,
Crime,
Hoover,
John Holt,
Matthew Bourne,
Khruangbin,
Man Parrish,
The Offenders,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Cymande,
Drive Like Jehu,
Swell Maps,
Ponytail,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Organ, Organ, Organ, Organ.
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.