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 Morocco and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 Lou Reed 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 H. Thieme to the crunk 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 X-102. All the underground hits.
All Fugazi tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Strawberry Alarm Clock record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Brothers Johnson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Dirtbombs,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Amon Düül,
Glenn Branca,
Unwound,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
June Days,
Oblivians,
These Immortal Souls,
Bill Near,
Shuggie Otis,
Nik Kershaw,
Jerry's Kids,
DJ Style,
Skaos,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Laurel Aitken,
Roger Hodgson,
The Fortunes,
Jawbox,
The Count Five,
Skarface,
Anakelly,
UT,
Q65,
Henry Cow,
Lyres,
Deepchord,
Lungfish,
Adolescents,
Metal Thangz,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
The Cowsills,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Detroit Cobras,
Fela Kuti,
the Germs,
Avey Tare,
Talk Talk,
Hashim,
Yazoo,
Supertramp,
Aswad,
Malaria!,
Godley & Creme,
Babytalk,
Byron Stingily,
Gong,
Eric Dolphy,
L. Decosne,
Electric Prunes,
Joe Finger,
Stereo Dub,
The Buckinghams,
Livin' Joy,
Jesper Dahlback,
Brass Construction,
Junior Murvin,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Sandy B,
Crooked Eye,
Ludus,
Pere Ubu,
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.