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 Australia and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and New York.
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 linndrum 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 The Dirtbombs to the disco kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Five Americans. All the underground hits.
All The Star Department tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ultra Naté 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Brass Construction record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Maurizio,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Malaria!,
Aloha Tigers,
Todd Rundgren,
The Gun Club,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Iggy Pop,
Grauzone,
Animal Collective,
Graham Central Station,
The Victims,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Byron Stingily,
the Swans,
Pole,
Eve St. Jones,
The Kinks,
Suburban Knight,
Crooked Eye,
The Sonics,
The Moody Blues,
Popol Vuh,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Young Marble Giants,
Pere Ubu,
Eric Dolphy,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Black Dice,
Echospace,
Supertramp,
Adolescents,
Nirvana,
The Monks,
the Soft Cell,
Idris Muhammad,
Audionom,
The Slits,
Soul II Soul,
Radiopuhelimet,
David Bowie,
Al Stewart,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Fall,
Sam Rivers,
Roxy Music,
The Slackers,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Gang Gang Dance,
cv313,
Harry Pussy,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Rosa Yemen,
The New Christs,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Godley & Creme,
Peter & Gordon,
Man Parrish,
Crash Course in Science,
Lou Reed,
Rapeman, Rapeman, Rapeman, Rapeman.
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.