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 Turkmenistan and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1969 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Joe Finger to the rap kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Jeff Mills. All the underground hits.
All Tropical Tobacco tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Fugs record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Erykah Badu 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?
Saccharine Trust,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Hoover,
La Düsseldorf,
Crash Course in Science,
Royal Trux,
Scrapy,
The Neon Judgement,
The Moody Blues,
Jawbox,
Subhumans,
Sight & Sound,
The Vogues,
The Zeros,
Brick,
The Misunderstood,
Carl Craig,
The Remains,
Glenn Branca,
Warren Ellis,
Severed Heads,
Crispian St. Peters,
Minutemen,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Delon & Dalcan,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Laurel Aitken,
Lou Reed,
Clear Light,
10cc,
Cybotron,
Section 25,
Drive Like Jehu,
Camberwell Now,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Bill Near,
Stereo Dub,
Kaleidoscope,
Second Layer,
The Music Machine,
Au Pairs,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Unrelated Segments,
Radiopuhelimet,
Mars,
The Trojans,
Niagra,
Connie Case,
Eddi Front,
The Grass Roots,
Pantytec,
Alphaville,
Max Romeo,
Cabaret Voltaire,
a-ha,
Minor Threat,
Urselle,
Deadbeat,
The Raincoats,
Aural Exciters,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Brand Nubian, Brand Nubian, Brand Nubian, Brand Nubian.
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.