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 Kosovo and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 Madrid and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 MDC to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Blossom Toes. All the underground hits.
All Radiopuhelimet tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sun Ra record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Idris Muhammad,
Vladislav Delay,
The Vogues,
Jacques Brel,
Crispian St. Peters,
Boredoms,
Mars,
Lakeside,
Slave,
June of 44,
Country Teasers,
Matthew Halsall,
B.T. Express,
Crash Course in Science,
Gang of Four,
Kool Moe Dee,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
China Crisis,
Agitation Free,
Jerry's Kids,
Unwound,
Symarip,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Donald Byrd,
Mr. Review,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Basic Channel,
Charles Mingus,
Tears for Fears,
Minutemen,
Carl Craig,
Zero Boys,
Harry Pussy,
Can,
Wire,
The Litter,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Interpol,
Yusef Lateef,
Gang Green,
Suburban Knight,
Swans,
The Divine Comedy,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Robert Hood,
The Mojo Men,
Aural Exciters,
Tropical Tobacco,
Ultra Naté,
the Bar-Kays,
The Smoke,
Wings,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Fortunes,
Main Source,
The Moody Blues,
Oneida,
Neil Young,
Moss Icon,
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.