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 Cyprus and from Lyon.
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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 Terry Callier to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Iggy Pop. All the underground hits.
All Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kerrie Biddell record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 a 808 and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Inner City,
Funkadelic,
KRS-One,
Mo-Dettes,
The Move,
Flipper,
The Zeros,
The Raincoats,
Quando Quango,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Joe Smooth,
Harry Pussy,
E-Dancer,
U.S. Maple,
Nick Fraelich,
Drexciya,
Black Bananas,
Gang Green,
The Techniques,
Cameo,
Mandrill,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Loose Ends,
Marshall Jefferson,
The United States of America,
The Electric Prunes,
UT,
Delta 5,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Cowsills,
Visage,
The Stooges,
Nik Kershaw,
Byron Stingily,
Essential Logic,
Niagra,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
New York Dolls,
Steve Hackett,
Grandmaster Flash,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Monks,
Deadbeat,
Kevin Saunderson,
Bush Tetras,
CMW,
Nils Olav,
Camberwell Now,
The Cramps,
Flash Fearless,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Buckinghams,
Rakim,
The Cure,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Livin' Joy,
Gang of Four,
Roxy Music,
Dark Day, Dark Day, Dark Day, Dark Day.
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.