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 Ivory Coast and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 guitar 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 Letta Mbulu to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 United States of America. All the underground hits.
All Tom Boy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Flamin' Groovies 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ituana record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Skatalites,
The Associates,
Marcia Griffiths,
Ossler,
Eric Dolphy,
The Golliwogs,
Ludus,
The Last Poets,
The Music Machine,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Sex Pistols,
Fugazi,
F. McDonald,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Stockholm Monsters,
Cymande,
Animal Collective,
Von Mondo,
PIL,
Hasil Adkins,
Brick,
Jandek,
Soft Cell,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Fela Kuti,
The Martian,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Searchers,
Steve Hackett,
June Days,
Bobby Sherman,
Gang Gang Dance,
Y Pants,
Second Layer,
The Fugs,
Spandau Ballet,
Nils Olav,
The Velvet Underground,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Crooked Eye,
Danielle Patucci,
Bush Tetras,
Little Man,
Zero Boys,
Hardrive,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Ornette Coleman,
Curtis Mayfield,
Lalo Schifrin,
Scratch Acid,
Mo-Dettes,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Gladiators,
Lightning Bolt,
Electric Prunes,
The Buckinghams,
Gregory Isaacs,
T. Rex,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Agitation Free,
The Walker Brothers,
Darondo, Darondo, Darondo, Darondo.
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.