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 Denmark and from Hong Kong.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 The Peanut Butter Conspiracy to the rock 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 Gil Scott Heron. All the underground hits.
All Radio Birdman tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Interpol 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Stetsasonic record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Soft Cell,
Ohio Players,
Eric Copeland,
Masters at Work,
Brothers Johnson,
Smog,
The J.B.'s,
Unwound,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
OOIOO,
Eddi Front,
R.M.O.,
Mo-Dettes,
Ponytail,
Godley & Creme,
Drexciya,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Rites of Spring,
The Cramps,
Nation of Ulysses,
Subhumans,
Amon Düül II,
Interpol,
Dark Day,
Howard Jones,
Josef K,
Mandrill,
K-Klass,
The Flesh Eaters,
Zapp,
Todd Rundgren,
Sällskapet,
Ornette Coleman,
Roxette,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Schoolly D,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Malaria!,
Scott Walker,
Theoretical Girls,
X-Ray Spex,
ABC,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Anakelly,
Amon Düül,
The Invisible,
EPMD,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Donald Byrd,
The Mojo Men,
B.T. Express,
Fluxion,
Fela Kuti,
Niagra,
The Vogues,
Jeru the Damaja,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Human League,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Residents,
Curtis Mayfield,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap, Gary Puckett & The Union Gap, Gary Puckett & The Union Gap, Gary Puckett & The Union Gap.
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.