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 Iraq and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 clarinet 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 Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks 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 Man Parrish. All the underground hits.
All Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lebanon Hanover 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Human League record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
June Days,
Audionom,
David Bowie,
Scratch Acid,
Ponytail,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Livin' Joy,
Con Funk Shun,
The Residents,
The New Christs,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
the Bar-Kays,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Todd Terry,
Suicide,
Spandau Ballet,
Yellowson,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Flipper,
Cymande,
Camouflage,
Gastr Del Sol,
Q65,
The Walker Brothers,
Barbara Tucker,
Jerry's Kids,
AZ,
Laurel Aitken,
Pussy Galore,
Buzzcocks,
Bizarre Inc.,
Danielle Patucci,
Crash Course in Science,
Nils Olav,
Avey Tare,
Dawn Penn,
Bang On A Can,
The Buckinghams,
Roxy Music,
David Axelrod,
Infiniti,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
the Fania All-Stars,
F. McDonald,
Shuggie Otis,
Dual Sessions,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Adolescents,
John Foxx,
Panda Bear,
Eric Dolphy,
Eurythmics,
Stiv Bators,
Jacob Miller,
Bob Dylan,
Hardrive,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Swell Maps, Swell Maps, Swell Maps, Swell Maps.
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.