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 Ecuador and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1968 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Beijing.
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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Chris Corsano to the funk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 The Pop Group. All the underground hits.
All Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scrapy 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a DJ Style record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
June Days,
the Sonics,
The Searchers,
Thee Headcoats,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Moleskins,
Kaleidoscope,
ABC,
Marcia Griffiths,
Mary Jane Girls,
Fat Boys,
Niagra,
Grey Daturas,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Black Dice,
Sexual Harrassment,
Amon Düül,
DJ Style,
Procol Harum,
Surgeon,
Johnny Clarke,
Dawn Penn,
Arcadia,
The Flesh Eaters,
Urselle,
Stiv Bators,
The Smoke,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Monochrome Set,
Pylon,
Mark Hollis,
Loose Ends,
The Litter,
Michelle Simonal,
The Stooges,
Dave Gahan,
Blossom Toes,
The Vogues,
X-Ray Spex,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Mr. Review,
Guru Guru,
Ronnie Foster,
John Foxx,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Buzzcocks,
Bobby Womack,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Arab on Radar,
Bootsy Collins,
The Pop Group,
Prince Buster,
Minny Pops,
Faust,
Marmalade,
John Coltrane,
The Wake,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Todd Terry,
Babytalk,
Intrusion, Intrusion, Intrusion, Intrusion.
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.