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 Mumbai.
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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 spring reverb 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 Bobby Hutcherson to the disco 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 Drexciya. All the underground hits.
All Flamin' Groovies tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Minutemen record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Teenage Jesus and the Jerks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gil Scott Heron,
Ronan,
The Litter,
Deepchord,
The Birthday Party,
Crooked Eye,
Radiohead,
Model 500,
Arcadia,
Second Layer,
a-ha,
Man Parrish,
The Velvet Underground,
Lou Christie,
Todd Rundgren,
The Grass Roots,
The Blues Magoos,
Joyce Sims,
Suicide,
Agent Orange,
Pantaleimon,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Grauzone,
R.M.O.,
Flipper,
Yusef Lateef,
Pierre Henry,
The Victims,
Black Moon,
Infiniti,
Shoche,
The Smoke,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Fire Engines,
Eddi Front,
Lebanon Hanover,
China Crisis,
Marcia Griffiths,
Gerry Rafferty,
Marvin Gaye,
Erasure,
Bobby Womack,
Bob Dylan,
Jeru the Damaja,
X-Ray Spex,
Blake Baxter,
Lee Hazlewood,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
John Coltrane,
Supertramp,
Rekid,
Donny Hathaway,
Scion,
Colin Newman,
Susan Cadogan,
Eli Mardock,
Underground Resistance,
Danielle Patucci,
The Slits, The Slits, The Slits, The Slits.
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.