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 East Timor and from Edmonton.
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 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Supertramp to the funk 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 Eric Dolphy. All the underground hits.
All The Fire Engines tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Thompson Twins 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Laurel Aitken record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Flamin' Groovies,
Whodini,
Kerri Chandler,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Yusef Lateef,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Grass Roots,
Josef K,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Das Ding,
Eli Mardock,
Fatback Band,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Silicon Teens,
Man Eating Sloth,
Dennis Brown,
Carl Craig,
Wasted Youth,
the Association,
Basic Channel,
Andrew Hill,
Eric B and Rakim,
Amon Düül,
T.S.O.L.,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Move,
Moebius,
Joe Finger,
the Fania All-Stars,
Severed Heads,
The Residents,
Jeru the Damaja,
Donald Byrd,
Depeche Mode,
Delta 5,
Henry Cow,
Reagan Youth,
ABC,
Quantec,
Scientists,
The Offenders,
The Count Five,
the Normal,
Babytalk,
The Electric Prunes,
The Trojans,
Ken Boothe,
The Monks,
Organ,
The Flesh Eaters,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Gang Starr,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Simply Red,
The Dirtbombs,
Don Cherry,
Adolescents,
Duran Duran,
OOIOO,
The Blackbyrds,
Minutemen, Minutemen, Minutemen, Minutemen.
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.