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 Kenya and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Max Romeo to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Jeru the Damaja. All the underground hits.
All Angels of Light & Akron/Family tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Leaves record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eric B and Rakim record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Half Japanese,
The Fall,
the Normal,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Eli Mardock,
Blancmange,
The Gun Club,
The Mummies,
Fela Kuti,
Supertramp,
Black Pus,
Country Teasers,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Zapp,
The Searchers,
The Music Machine,
MDC,
Clear Light,
Scan 7,
Nas,
Goldenarms,
The Neon Judgement,
Lalann,
The Raincoats,
Severed Heads,
The Dave Clark Five,
Sound Behaviour,
Minnie Riperton,
Flash Fearless,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Qualms,
Donald Byrd,
Fad Gadget,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
June of 44,
Tommy Roe,
Youth Brigade,
Sällskapet,
Rhythm & Sound,
Funkadelic,
Suicide,
Dead Boys,
Arcadia,
Boredoms,
Shuggie Otis,
Drive Like Jehu,
DNA,
Dave Gahan,
Niagra,
Harry Pussy,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Index,
Dark Day,
Susan Cadogan,
The Star Department,
The Slackers,
Von Mondo,
Ten City,
Television Personalities,
Lindisfarne,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Blake Baxter,
Robert Görl,
Peter & Gordon,
Massinfluence, Massinfluence, Massinfluence, Massinfluence.
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.