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 Maldives and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 chamberlin 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 Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five to the dance kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Kerrie Biddell. All the underground hits.
All The Alarm Clocks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every David McCallum 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ponytail record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Malaria!,
Donny Hathaway,
Lungfish,
Deadbeat,
The Angels of Light,
Section 25,
Das Ding,
Big Daddy Kane,
Alice Coltrane,
The Sonics,
Erasure,
Davy DMX,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Dawn Penn,
The Dirtbombs,
Roy Ayers,
Barbara Tucker,
Monolake,
John Cale,
Black Pus,
Wally Richardson,
Groovy Waters,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Scan 7,
Stockholm Monsters,
Eric Copeland,
The Searchers,
Pagans,
DJ Style,
Avey Tare,
The Leaves,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Pretty Things,
Rufus Thomas,
The United States of America,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Slackers,
Wire,
Khruangbin,
Qualms,
Mandrill,
The Fortunes,
Marvin Gaye,
Swell Maps,
Patti Smith,
Desert Stars,
The Fall,
the Slits,
Pet Shop Boys,
Kas Product,
Amon Düül II,
Q and Not U,
Animal Collective,
The Dead C,
Cymande,
Dennis Brown,
The Litter,
Glenn Branca,
Neil Young,
the Association,
Bootsy Collins,
Todd Rundgren,
Skarface, Skarface, Skarface, Skarface.
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.