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 Palau and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 snare 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 Bang on a Can All-Stars to the grunge kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Dawn Penn. All the underground hits.
All the Slits tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Con Funk Shun record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 snare and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Brick,
Jawbox,
Thee Headcoats,
Brothers Johnson,
Masters at Work,
Arthur Verocai,
Gregory Isaacs,
Janne Schatter,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Rekid,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
New Age Steppers,
Sun City Girls,
Moss Icon,
Reuben Wilson,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Raincoats,
Bill Wells,
Livin' Joy,
Dawn Penn,
X-Ray Spex,
Lou Christie,
Minny Pops,
Y Pants,
In Retrospect,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Groovy Waters,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Lou Reed,
David Bowie,
Jandek,
cv313,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
AZ,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Sex Pistols,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Massinfluence,
Section 25,
Harmonia,
The Shadows of Knight,
Goldenarms,
Jacob Miller,
Stockholm Monsters,
Quadrant,
Sexual Harrassment,
R.M.O.,
Whodini,
Little Man,
Babytalk,
Organ,
The Slits,
Minor Threat,
Tres Demented,
Sight & Sound,
Joy Division,
Minnie Riperton,
The Dead C,
Michelle Simonal,
The Mojo Men,
Sun Ra, Sun Ra, Sun Ra, Sun Ra.
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.