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 South Sudan and from Bremen.
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 1960 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 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 Grauzone to the rap kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Pretty Things. All the underground hits.
All Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Heaven 17 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 an arpeggiator and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Adolescents record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Goldenarms,
Crispian St. Peters,
Tres Demented,
Rosa Yemen,
Robert Görl,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Cowsills,
Terry Callier,
The Vogues,
Fear,
Bobby Sherman,
DJ Style,
Pantaleimon,
X-101,
Freddie Wadling,
Skarface,
Con Funk Shun,
Maurizio,
UT,
Wire,
the Fania All-Stars,
Amon Düül,
Johnny Clarke,
The Kinks,
Technova,
Guru Guru,
K-Klass,
The Sound,
Skriet,
Rekid,
Subhumans,
Donald Byrd,
Crooked Eye,
Mantronix,
the Germs,
Jeru the Damaja,
Circle Jerks,
Juan Atkins,
The Mummies,
Althea and Donna,
Funky Four + One,
The Electric Prunes,
Sonic Youth,
Severed Heads,
Tubeway Army,
Metal Thangz,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Aaron Thompson,
Sällskapet,
Echospace,
Girls At Our Best!,
Sonny Sharrock,
Black Pus,
Easy Going,
The Saints,
Brand Nubian,
Warsaw,
Thee Headcoats,
Arcadia,
Leonard Cohen,
Jawbox,
The Cramps,
Bootsy's Rubber Band, Bootsy's Rubber Band, Bootsy's Rubber Band, Bootsy's Rubber Band.
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.