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 Peru and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Gladiators to the techno kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Bang On A Can. All the underground hits.
All the Swans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Traffic Nightmare record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eric B and Rakim record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jacques Brel,
10cc,
The Gladiators,
The Moody Blues,
Babytalk,
The Move,
Arthur Verocai,
Crooked Eye,
Deepchord,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Dark Day,
Eve St. Jones,
Marmalade,
Robert Hood,
The Names,
Crime,
The Young Rascals,
Unwound,
the Association,
Buzzcocks,
48th St. Collective,
Radio Birdman,
Liliput,
8 Eyed Spy,
Animal Collective,
Peter and Kerry,
Nas,
Girls At Our Best!,
Fat Boys,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Cameo,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Tropical Tobacco,
Junior Murvin,
DJ Style,
Kerrie Biddell,
Niagra,
La Düsseldorf,
Jeff Lynne,
ABC,
Andrew Hill,
E-Dancer,
Faraquet,
Fear,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Grass Roots,
Blake Baxter,
Barry Ungar,
Black Bananas,
Sandy B,
Underground Resistance,
Japan,
Zero Boys,
The Doobie Brothers,
Lindisfarne,
Pantaleimon,
Yaz,
Kenny Larkin,
Wolf Eyes,
Scientists,
The Zeros,
The Flesh Eaters, The Flesh Eaters, The Flesh Eaters, The Flesh Eaters.
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.