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 Nepal and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Toni Rubio to the electroclash 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 Blackbyrds. All the underground hits.
All Dead Boys tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Faraquet record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Blackbyrds record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kurtis Blow,
Ultra Naté,
Black Pus,
Johnny Clarke,
The Dead C,
Whodini,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Gregory Isaacs,
Tres Demented,
Camouflage,
The Young Rascals,
Sun City Girls,
Main Source,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Rekid,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Faust,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
K-Klass,
Nik Kershaw,
The Evens,
The Zeros,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Alarm Clocks,
Mission of Burma,
Kas Product,
The Pop Group,
The Fuzztones,
The Fortunes,
The Gories,
The Fire Engines,
Lakeside,
The Moody Blues,
The Cowsills,
Sällskapet,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Yazoo,
Idris Muhammad,
The Blackbyrds,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Smiths,
Matthew Halsall,
Arab on Radar,
Porter Ricks,
Marc Almond,
Nico,
Crime,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Count Five,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Busters,
John Cale,
Black Moon,
Loose Ends,
Glenn Branca,
Nirvana, Nirvana, Nirvana, Nirvana.
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.