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 Maldives and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Bizarre Inc. to the punk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Royal Family And The Poor. All the underground hits.
All Sixth Finger tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Junior Murvin record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sex Pistols record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Misunderstood,
Mo-Dettes,
Darondo,
MC5,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
John Lydon,
Ronnie Foster,
the Association,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Gang Gang Dance,
Suburban Knight,
Chrome,
Bush Tetras,
Flipper,
Ohio Players,
Johnny Osbourne,
Fugazi,
Steve Hackett,
Graham Central Station,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Avey Tare,
The Sonics,
Popol Vuh,
Crispian St. Peters,
Ituana,
The United States of America,
Los Fastidios,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
The Star Department,
Derrick Morgan,
The Gladiators,
Sister Nancy,
Talk Talk,
Matthew Halsall,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Aswad,
Ralphi Rosario,
ABBA,
Organ,
Black Flag,
Barry Ungar,
Kerri Chandler,
Godley & Creme,
the Germs,
Essential Logic,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Matthew Bourne,
The Vogues,
Hardrive,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Beau Brummels,
Sun City Girls,
Lower 48,
Robert Wyatt,
Skriet,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Rotary Connection,
Lyres,
D'Angelo,
The Stooges, The Stooges, The Stooges, The Stooges.
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.