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 Somalia and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 Robert Palmer 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 Slits to the grunge 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 Juan Atkins. All the underground hits.
All the Soft Cell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Los Fastidios 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Hasil Adkins record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gang Green,
Flipper,
Ossler,
Aswad,
Whodini,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Martian,
Warren Ellis,
The Last Poets,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Offenders,
Nas,
Black Bananas,
The Walker Brothers,
The Index,
Yellowson,
Vladislav Delay,
Echospace,
Arthur Verocai,
Fela Kuti,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
CMW,
Mo-Dettes,
Anthony Braxton,
Morten Harket,
Lou Christie,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Grauzone,
Dawn Penn,
Hashim,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Divine Comedy,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Eve St. Jones,
Laurel Aitken,
Index,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Cowsills,
Agitation Free,
Sam Rivers,
Bush Tetras,
Rites of Spring,
Eurythmics,
Babytalk,
Bobby Womack,
Gregory Isaacs,
Jacob Miller,
Magma,
Mission of Burma,
Liliput,
The Gories,
Duran Duran,
Popol Vuh,
The Knickerbockers,
JFA,
Grandmaster Flash,
Stereo Dub,
Buzzcocks,
Camberwell Now,
Andrew Hill,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Crooked Eye,
Agent Orange, Agent Orange, Agent Orange, Agent Orange.
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.