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 Swaziland and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 Captain Beefheart 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 The Last Poets to the punk 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 Siouxsie and the Banshees. All the underground hits.
All Leonard Cohen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tres Demented record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rahsaan Roland Kirk record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Theoretical Girls,
Au Pairs,
Soft Cell,
The United States of America,
Subhumans,
Flipper,
Minnie Riperton,
John Holt,
Fluxion,
T.S.O.L.,
T. Rex,
Jimmy McGriff,
the Association,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
kango's stein massive,
A Certain Ratio,
Monolake,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Selecter,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Jacques Brel,
The Doors,
The Pretty Things,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Lalo Schifrin,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Real Kids,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Thompson Twins,
Minny Pops,
Pagans,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Groovy Waters,
Surgeon,
Sexual Harrassment,
Procol Harum,
OOIOO,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Organ,
Pierre Henry,
the Germs,
Sex Pistols,
Cymande,
Scott Walker,
Niagra,
Soft Machine,
Nirvana,
Anakelly,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Brass Construction,
The Index,
Mars,
David Axelrod,
the Normal,
Cybotron,
The Martian,
Jacob Miller,
Negative Approach,
Sällskapet,
Mad Mike,
The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs.
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.