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 China and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 Donald Fagen 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 Richard Hell and the Voidoids to the funk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Slits. All the underground hits.
All Buzzcocks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Blackbyrds record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dennis Brown record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
June of 44,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Livin' Joy,
Bad Manners,
Quadrant,
Anthony Braxton,
Kool Moe Dee,
Avey Tare,
Public Enemy,
The Fortunes,
Amon Düül II,
The Dave Clark Five,
Blossom Toes,
Wings,
Altered Images,
Fluxion,
The Shadows of Knight,
The American Breed,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
DNA,
Pharoah Sanders,
Joe Smooth,
The Pretty Things,
Banda Bassotti,
Henry Cow,
Pet Shop Boys,
Newcleus,
X-101,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Durutti Column,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Litter,
Faust,
Easy Going,
The Dead C,
Half Japanese,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Mo-Dettes,
Donald Byrd,
Sandy B,
Lyres,
The Associates,
Monks,
Magazine,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Spandau Ballet,
New Order,
Radiopuhelimet,
Television,
Young Marble Giants,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Tremeloes,
Nico,
Nils Olav,
The Black Dice,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Mantronix,
Pierre Henry,
Robert Hood,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
John Holt,
Cluster, Cluster, Cluster, Cluster.
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.