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 Papua New Guinea and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 güiro 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 Sun Ra Arkestra to the disco 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 Franke. All the underground hits.
All Neil Young tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jesper Dahlback record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 an oboe and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a OOIOO record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
T.S.O.L.,
Pylon,
The Five Americans,
The Stooges,
Ossler,
Ultra Naté,
Derrick May,
Marine Girls,
Symarip,
The Mojo Men,
Hot Snakes,
Ultimate Spinach,
Tres Demented,
The Victims,
the Germs,
Soul II Soul,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Thee Headcoats,
Joensuu 1685,
Depeche Mode,
Nas,
Peter and Kerry,
Dorothy Ashby,
Albert Ayler,
Monks,
Ituana,
Nik Kershaw,
The Kinks,
The Misunderstood,
Eric Dolphy,
Roxette,
Chris Corsano,
the Fania All-Stars,
Lakeside,
David Bowie,
Iggy Pop,
the Human League,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Stereo Dub,
Joe Finger,
Toni Rubio,
Joy Division,
the Soft Cell,
Television,
Chris & Cosey,
John Cale,
Robert Hood,
Wasted Youth,
John Lydon,
The American Breed,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Fluxion,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Sixth Finger,
The Motions,
Lindisfarne,
Althea and Donna,
Al Stewart,
Black Pus,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Leaves, The Leaves, The Leaves, The Leaves.
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.