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 Nicaragua and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 guitar 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 John Foxx to the punk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Beasts of Bourbon. All the underground hits.
All Minutemen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lalo Schifrin 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Q and Not U record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Pus,
The Smiths,
The Evens,
Jawbox,
Henry Cow,
Arab on Radar,
The Leaves,
Ornette Coleman,
The Fuzztones,
Marvin Gaye,
Don Cherry,
The Techniques,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Red Krayola,
The Vogues,
Ultimate Spinach,
The American Breed,
Cecil Taylor,
Alton Ellis,
Magma,
The Litter,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Dead C,
Deepchord,
Slick Rick,
8 Eyed Spy,
Quadrant,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Q and Not U,
Ohio Players,
Deakin,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Wasted Youth,
Bill Wells,
The Associates,
Niagra,
Adolescents,
Theoretical Girls,
Drive Like Jehu,
Tom Boy,
Kaleidoscope,
Howard Jones,
Deadbeat,
Bluetip,
Eve St. Jones,
Guru Guru,
the Normal,
Oneida,
Fat Boys,
World's Most,
Josef K,
Faust,
Vladislav Delay,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Moody Blues,
Toni Rubio,
Sexual Harrassment,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
F. McDonald,
Sixth Finger,
Gastr Del Sol,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade, Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade, Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade, Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade.
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.