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 Guatemala and from Glasgow.
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 1960 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 snare 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 Peanut Butter Conspiracy to the grunge 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 H. Thieme. All the underground hits.
All The Fire Engines tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Newcleus 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mantronix record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sister Nancy,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Tears for Fears,
The Smoke,
Tres Demented,
Scott Walker,
Soul II Soul,
Stereo Dub,
Tomorrow,
The Music Machine,
Black Pus,
James White and The Blacks,
Malaria!,
Lakeside,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Remains,
the Slits,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Ice-T,
China Crisis,
MDC,
Average White Band,
Qualms,
Rites of Spring,
Glenn Branca,
Rufus Thomas,
Lucky Dragons,
Yaz,
Nation of Ulysses,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Maurizio,
Yazoo,
D'Angelo,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Jandek,
David Bowie,
Can,
Ponytail,
Bush Tetras,
Cheater Slicks,
Gastr Del Sol,
Bang On A Can,
Amon Düül,
Roger Hodgson,
Carl Craig,
Althea and Donna,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Mad Mike,
Blancmange,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Agent Orange,
Archie Shepp,
Japan,
F. McDonald,
K-Klass,
Chris & Cosey,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Divine Comedy,
Symarip,
Television Personalities,
The Move,
Banda Bassotti, Banda Bassotti, Banda Bassotti, Banda Bassotti.
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.