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 Tehran.
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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Minny Pops to the grunge 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 Manfred Mann's Earth Band. All the underground hits.
All Prince Buster tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Motorama record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Half Japanese record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Flipper,
Dennis Brown,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Desert Stars,
Saccharine Trust,
Soft Machine,
Black Pus,
the Sonics,
The Angels of Light,
The Move,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Minutemen,
The Mojo Men,
The Pretty Things,
Fad Gadget,
Ultra Naté,
Suicide,
Slick Rick,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Monochrome Set,
Prince Buster,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Severed Heads,
Wolf Eyes,
Tropical Tobacco,
Glenn Branca,
Kayak,
Scratch Acid,
Moss Icon,
Trumans Water,
Blake Baxter,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Wake,
Joensuu 1685,
Cecil Taylor,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Subhumans,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Cramps,
Robert Görl,
Pulsallama,
H. Thieme,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
LL Cool J,
Crash Course in Science,
Sexual Harrassment,
Silicon Teens,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Index,
Archie Shepp,
Iggy Pop,
Cheater Slicks,
Anthony Braxton,
Chris & Cosey,
Radiohead,
Pierre Henry,
Jeru the Damaja,
Joey Negro,
Maurizio,
Metal Thangz, Metal Thangz, Metal Thangz, Metal Thangz.
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.