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 Suriname and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 theremin 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 Fugazi to the grime kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Animal Collective. All the underground hits.
All Bobby Byrd tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every James White and The Blacks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 chamberlin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Index record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Zapp,
Simply Red,
Dawn Penn,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Bang On A Can,
The Shadows of Knight,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Excepter,
Erykah Badu,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Gladiators,
Shoche,
Goldenarms,
Sexual Harrassment,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Sonics,
Whodini,
Aloha Tigers,
The Doobie Brothers,
Man Eating Sloth,
LL Cool J,
Basic Channel,
Derrick May,
Mandrill,
Television Personalities,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
In Retrospect,
The Birthday Party,
Young Marble Giants,
Bobby Byrd,
Japan,
David Bowie,
Lee Hazlewood,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Offenders,
Tom Boy,
Siglo XX,
MDC,
Bluetip,
The Names,
Eric B and Rakim,
Glambeats Corp.,
Tres Demented,
Tomorrow,
Soft Cell,
Freddie Wadling,
The Mummies,
the Swans,
Rotary Connection,
Scrapy,
The Doors,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Gang of Four,
Joey Negro,
The Pretty Things,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Frankie Knuckles,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Reuben Wilson,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Cowsills,
Minny Pops,
The Busters,
Mark Hollis, Mark Hollis, Mark Hollis, Mark Hollis.
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.