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 Burkina and from New York.
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 1964 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Tehran.
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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Monks to the rap kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Livin' Joy. All the underground hits.
All Lebanon Hanover tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Echo & the Bunnymen record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 linndrum and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a kango's stein massive record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gong,
The Moody Blues,
Chris & Cosey,
Prince Buster,
F. McDonald,
The Cowsills,
Sandy B,
Visage,
The Trojans,
The Raincoats,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Grass Roots,
The American Breed,
Intrusion,
Stiv Bators,
The Saints,
Kool Moe Dee,
Darondo,
Michelle Simonal,
Eric Copeland,
The Walker Brothers,
Pylon,
Warsaw,
The New Christs,
DNA,
Suicide,
Archie Shepp,
Stockholm Monsters,
Traffic Nightmare,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Index,
Bootsy Collins,
Television,
The Durutti Column,
JFA,
Amon Düül,
Gang Green,
The Invisible,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Marvin Gaye,
R.M.O.,
Arthur Verocai,
The Seeds,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Leaves,
Vladislav Delay,
Junior Murvin,
Soul II Soul,
Spoonie Gee,
Barbara Tucker,
T.S.O.L.,
KRS-One,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Happenings,
The Barracudas,
Big Daddy Kane,
Severed Heads, Severed Heads, Severed Heads, Severed Heads.
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.