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 Luxembourg and from Mexico City.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 snare 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 Mr. Review to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Sugar Minott. All the underground hits.
All Neu! tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sun Ra Arkestra record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fugazi record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
A Flock of Seagulls,
Circle Jerks,
Donald Byrd,
Fela Kuti,
Stetsasonic,
Jeff Mills,
John Holt,
Sugar Minott,
Lebanon Hanover,
Camberwell Now,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Joy Division,
These Immortal Souls,
Andrew Hill,
Quantec,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Vainqueur,
Theoretical Girls,
Crispy Ambulance,
Rod Modell,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
ABC,
Simply Red,
Terry Callier,
Shoche,
Arcadia,
B.T. Express,
Oblivians,
Harpers Bizarre,
Sällskapet,
Jacob Miller,
Bobby Byrd,
The Fortunes,
Young Marble Giants,
Cameo,
The Fugs,
Siglo XX,
The Selecter,
Reagan Youth,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Oneida,
Black Moon,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Minor Threat,
The Golliwogs,
Rakim,
Black Bananas,
Clear Light,
Spandau Ballet,
Ice-T,
Amon Düül,
Barry Ungar,
The Happenings,
Scrapy,
Angry Samoans,
Marvin Gaye,
Echospace,
The Cure,
Dennis Brown,
Icehouse,
Don Cherry,
K-Klass,
Thee Headcoats,
The Index, The Index, The Index, The Index.
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.