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 Malawi and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 sitar 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 Popol Vuh to the punk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Nas. All the underground hits.
All Liaisons Dangereuses tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Derrick Morgan 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lonnie Liston Smith 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?
Mr. Review,
Tomorrow,
Faust,
Duran Duran,
Sam Rivers,
Pulsallama,
Brand Nubian,
Black Sheep,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
China Crisis,
Alice Coltrane,
Das Ding,
Colin Newman,
Aloha Tigers,
Janne Schatter,
Desert Stars,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
CMW,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Television Personalities,
Whodini,
Index,
The Invisible,
ABBA,
Glenn Branca,
DJ Style,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
T.S.O.L.,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Hardrive,
Nick Fraelich,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Sister Nancy,
Fear,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Rufus Thomas,
The New Christs,
Man Parrish,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Tremeloes,
Scrapy,
Ludus,
Theoretical Girls,
The Count Five,
Pierre Henry,
Easy Going,
Y Pants,
This Heat,
Young Marble Giants,
Heaven 17,
Au Pairs,
The Fire Engines,
Arthur Verocai,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Nik Kershaw,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Davy DMX,
The Shadows of Knight,
Warsaw,
Joe Finger,
Scratch Acid, Scratch Acid, Scratch Acid, Scratch Acid.
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.