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 Netherlands and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 harpsichord 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 Ornette Coleman to the grime kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Notorious Big And Bone Thugs. All the underground hits.
All The Blues Magoos tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Drive Like Jehu 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang Gang Dance record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Schoolly D,
Joy Division,
Severed Heads,
Ossler,
Crispy Ambulance,
the Normal,
Sex Pistols,
Guru Guru,
The Searchers,
The Five Americans,
Suicide,
The Monks,
Audionom,
U.S. Maple,
Depeche Mode,
Andrew Hill,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Donald Byrd,
MC5,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Monolake,
Marine Girls,
Magazine,
Joe Smooth,
Magma,
Make Up,
Skriet,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
OOIOO,
Al Stewart,
Spandau Ballet,
Scott Walker,
Derrick Morgan,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Toasters,
The Red Krayola,
Bluetip,
Malaria!,
The Dave Clark Five,
Brand Nubian,
Loose Ends,
Ponytail,
Oblivians,
Rufus Thomas,
Glenn Branca,
Metal Thangz,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Sam Rivers,
Laurel Aitken,
Mr. Review,
Pantytec,
Barry Ungar,
Adolescents,
Bronski Beat,
Dual Sessions,
ABC,
Shuggie Otis,
Anthony Braxton,
Inner City, Inner City, Inner City, Inner City.
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.