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 Bolivia and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and New York.
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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Electric Prunes to the dance 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 Sun Ra Arkestra. All the underground hits.
All De La Soul & Jungle Brothers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Harry Pussy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 spring reverb and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Real Kids record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Electric Prunes,
Ponytail,
Mo-Dettes,
David Bowie,
Blake Baxter,
the Association,
The United States of America,
DJ Style,
Audionom,
Scientists,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Morten Harket,
Al Stewart,
Average White Band,
Dave Gahan,
The Selecter,
Popol Vuh,
Marvin Gaye,
Pussy Galore,
The Cowsills,
Reuben Wilson,
Black Bananas,
The Smiths,
Babytalk,
Urselle,
Sound Behaviour,
The Blues Magoos,
One Last Wish,
Lyres,
The Detroit Cobras,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Cal Tjader,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Tremeloes,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
E-Dancer,
Gang of Four,
Donny Hathaway,
Colin Newman,
Grandmaster Flash,
Arcadia,
Essential Logic,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Bronski Beat,
Liliput,
Scratch Acid,
Camouflage,
Glenn Branca,
Symarip,
Flamin' Groovies,
Whodini,
Radio Birdman,
Soul Sonic Force,
Bill Near,
Rosa Yemen,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Dawn Penn,
Malaria!,
Deakin,
The Leaves,
Erykah Badu, Erykah Badu, Erykah Badu, Erykah Badu.
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.