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 Nigeria and from Spokane.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Susan Cadogan to the grunge 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 Little Man. All the underground hits.
All Bill Near tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Louis and Bebe Barron record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 chamberlin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Blancmange record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rakim,
Blake Baxter,
Kerri Chandler,
Accadde A,
Severed Heads,
Fifty Foot Hose,
David Axelrod,
Connie Case,
FM Einheit,
Joensuu 1685,
Pere Ubu,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Lucky Dragons,
The Last Poets,
The Music Machine,
Letta Mbulu,
The Cowsills,
Los Fastidios,
Pantaleimon,
R.M.O.,
Sight & Sound,
The Trojans,
Tears for Fears,
The Searchers,
Nas,
Subhumans,
Lalann,
Au Pairs,
Qualms,
Bush Tetras,
Big Daddy Kane,
Franke,
New York Dolls,
Unrelated Segments,
Mantronix,
Todd Rundgren,
The Vogues,
Shoche,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Todd Terry,
Country Joe & The Fish,
LL Cool J,
Blossom Toes,
Mars,
Duran Duran,
Erykah Badu,
Gang Starr,
Pulsallama,
Kaleidoscope,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Marmalade,
Curtis Mayfield,
Rapeman,
The Doors,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Mary Jane Girls,
Rod Modell,
Fat Boys,
Derrick May, Derrick May, Derrick May, Derrick May.
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.