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 Spain and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Moss Icon to the techno 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 The Flesh Eaters. All the underground hits.
All The Victims tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Arab on Radar record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 an arpeggiator and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Germs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Skriet,
Johnny Osbourne,
Erasure,
John Cale,
the Sonics,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Motions,
Ten City,
Aloha Tigers,
Hasil Adkins,
Pole,
The Tremeloes,
Tubeway Army,
Infiniti,
Dorothy Ashby,
Theoretical Girls,
the Bar-Kays,
Sexual Harrassment,
Eric Copeland,
Neil Young,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
New York Dolls,
Kurtis Blow,
The Moody Blues,
Aswad,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Mummies,
The Star Department,
Niagra,
Jandek,
Y Pants,
Boogie Down Productions,
Pylon,
Ossler,
Gil Scott Heron,
Max Romeo,
Index,
One Last Wish,
Shuggie Otis,
Cheater Slicks,
The Black Dice,
F. McDonald,
The Fall,
Tears for Fears,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Wally Richardson,
Parry Music,
Man Eating Sloth,
Glenn Branca,
Sun City Girls,
Ultravox,
Supertramp,
Fluxion,
John Foxx,
Henry Cow,
Jeff Lynne, Jeff Lynne, Jeff Lynne, Jeff Lynne.
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.