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 Sweden and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1966 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 chamberlin 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 Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson to the electroclash 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 Zapp. All the underground hits.
All Girls At Our Best! tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sonic Youth record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
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 Chrome record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bobbi Humphrey,
Franke,
Kerrie Biddell,
Chrome,
Max Romeo,
Dave Gahan,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Pagans,
The Misunderstood,
The Residents,
Whodini,
Glambeats Corp.,
Joey Negro,
Panda Bear,
The Gladiators,
Bob Dylan,
Dead Boys,
The Standells,
Das Ding,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Marcia Griffiths,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Television,
Yazoo,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Freddie Wadling,
Magma,
Visage,
The Walker Brothers,
Crispy Ambulance,
Man Parrish,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Amon Düül II,
Barbara Tucker,
the Association,
Roxette,
The Five Americans,
Maleditus Sound,
Brand Nubian,
the Swans,
Slick Rick,
Tommy Roe,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Arab on Radar,
Erykah Badu,
Absolute Body Control,
Derrick Morgan,
Lakeside,
Drive Like Jehu,
KRS-One,
Don Cherry,
Gang Starr,
ABBA,
Nation of Ulysses,
Al Stewart,
Barry Ungar,
48th St. Collective,
Laurel Aitken,
The Pop Group,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Parry Music,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
David McCallum,
Mandrill, Mandrill, Mandrill, Mandrill.
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.