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 Venezuela and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 Philadelphia and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 Donald Fagen 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 Blackbyrds to the rap 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 Severed Heads. All the underground hits.
All Masters at Work tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Stiv Bators record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 spring reverb and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Pop Group record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ash Ra Tempel,
New York Dolls,
Connie Case,
Oblivians,
Traffic Nightmare,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Simply Red,
Scientists,
Barrington Levy,
Colin Newman,
The Blues Magoos,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Camouflage,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
DNA,
the Soft Cell,
The Count Five,
Scan 7,
The Martian,
Marvin Gaye,
Tim Buckley,
Dorothy Ashby,
Hoover,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Saints,
The Index,
Mars,
Unwound,
Cameo,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Monks,
Kurtis Blow,
Bush Tetras,
Chris Corsano,
Ornette Coleman,
The Seeds,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Kaleidoscope,
Gong,
Silicon Teens,
These Immortal Souls,
Heaven 17,
Reagan Youth,
Skarface,
Gang Starr,
Pere Ubu,
Severed Heads,
Davy DMX,
48th St. Collective,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Tropical Tobacco,
New Order,
The Doobie Brothers,
Soft Cell,
Chris & Cosey,
The Detroit Cobras,
K-Klass,
Depeche Mode,
Subhumans,
Scrapy, Scrapy, Scrapy, Scrapy.
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.