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 Tuvalu and from Lyon.
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 Portland and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 guitar 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 Ultramagnetic MC's to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo. All the underground hits.
All The Gladiators tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Maurizio record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scratch Acid record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sex Pistols,
The Associates,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Seeds,
Sparks,
Das Ding,
Oneida,
Radiohead,
DJ Sneak,
Funkadelic,
B.T. Express,
Accadde A,
Sonic Youth,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Dark Day,
This Heat,
Gang of Four,
David McCallum,
Chris & Cosey,
the Association,
L. Decosne,
Bill Wells,
Roy Ayers,
Popol Vuh,
ABC,
Danielle Patucci,
Fat Boys,
The Neon Judgement,
Radio Birdman,
Maurizio,
Essential Logic,
David Axelrod,
Quando Quango,
Rapeman,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Tim Buckley,
Depeche Mode,
The Litter,
Ultravox,
The Stooges,
Bauhaus,
John Foxx,
X-Ray Spex,
Boz Scaggs,
the Bar-Kays,
Lakeside,
The Monks,
Kerrie Biddell,
Severed Heads,
Arab on Radar,
Gichy Dan,
Joey Negro,
Susan Cadogan,
The Angels of Light,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Barbara Tucker,
Von Mondo,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Radiopuhelimet,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson, Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson, Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson, Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson.
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.