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 Belarus and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 sitar 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 Tommy Roe to the punk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Jacques Brel. All the underground hits.
All Lafayette Afro Rock Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sixth Finger record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 a harpsichord and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scion record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Vainqueur,
Mandrill,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Glambeats Corp.,
Y Pants,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Five Americans,
a-ha,
James White and The Blacks,
Faust,
Patti Smith,
Harry Pussy,
the Swans,
Eddi Front,
The Names,
Public Image Ltd.,
Archie Shepp,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Eric Dolphy,
The Index,
The New Christs,
Tres Demented,
Sixth Finger,
Roger Hodgson,
The Move,
Desert Stars,
the Slits,
Alton Ellis,
La Düsseldorf,
Oblivians,
Crooked Eye,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Das Ding,
Television Personalities,
Leonard Cohen,
T.S.O.L.,
CMW,
Talk Talk,
Judy Mowatt,
The Slits,
Chris & Cosey,
The Pretty Things,
Steve Hackett,
Young Marble Giants,
Moss Icon,
The Selecter,
Minny Pops,
8 Eyed Spy,
Porter Ricks,
Loose Ends,
Q and Not U,
Lee Hazlewood,
Theoretical Girls,
Moebius,
Prince Buster,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Gap Band,
Nick Fraelich,
Crash Course in Science,
Graham Central Station,
Monks,
Zero Boys, Zero Boys, Zero Boys, Zero Boys.
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.