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 El Salvador and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Hong Kong.
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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Country Teasers to the punk 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 UT. All the underground hits.
All Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Man Eating Sloth record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 808 and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Mighty Diamonds record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Radio Birdman,
The Cowsills,
Black Sheep,
Neil Young,
Robert Hood,
cv313,
Bill Near,
The Detroit Cobras,
Gerry Rafferty,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Rakim,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
One Last Wish,
Alice Coltrane,
Amazonics,
Subhumans,
Warsaw,
Jacques Brel,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Average White Band,
Cybotron,
The Smiths,
The Index,
Lalann,
Colin Newman,
The Slackers,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Moss Icon,
Delta 5,
Crime,
the Association,
Wings,
Kayak,
Grey Daturas,
Laurel Aitken,
Blake Baxter,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Mandrill,
The Angels of Light,
Camberwell Now,
Kenny Larkin,
Flash Fearless,
Big Daddy Kane,
Japan,
Archie Shepp,
Arab on Radar,
Tres Demented,
The Velvet Underground,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Man Parrish,
Rosa Yemen,
The Trojans,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Stooges,
DJ Sneak,
U.S. Maple,
Depeche Mode,
Joey Negro,
Mantronix,
The New Christs,
the Bar-Kays,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Mo-Dettes,
The Monks,
Minny Pops, Minny Pops, Minny Pops, Minny Pops.
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.