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 Libya and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 The Red Krayola to the grunge 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 Lou Reed. All the underground hits.
All Byron Stingily tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Todd Rundgren record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bob Dylan record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 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 Star Department,
Oneida,
Nas,
E-Dancer,
Stetsasonic,
The Blackbyrds,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Frankie Knuckles,
Mars,
Avey Tare,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Joy Division,
Ultra Naté,
Silicon Teens,
The Kinks,
Pantaleimon,
Mad Mike,
Ossler,
Stockholm Monsters,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Lou Reed,
Danielle Patucci,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
8 Eyed Spy,
Wally Richardson,
The Slackers,
Symarip,
The Divine Comedy,
Sun Ra,
The Seeds,
Fad Gadget,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Red Krayola,
Kas Product,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Joyce Sims,
48th St. Collective,
Nils Olav,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Black Sheep,
Roxy Music,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Barbara Tucker,
Alphaville,
Tubeway Army,
Brothers Johnson,
Gang of Four,
John Holt,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Misunderstood,
Stiv Bators,
Robert Wyatt,
Japan,
Cecil Taylor,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Suicide,
The Doors,
Roy Ayers,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Supertramp,
The Toasters, The Toasters, The Toasters, The Toasters.
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.