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 Laos and from Beijing.
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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 Michael McDonald 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 Bobby Womack to the punk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Wings. All the underground hits.
All Angels of Light & Akron/Family tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Sound record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 linndrum and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Divine Comedy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
D'Angelo,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Faraquet,
Brand Nubian,
Chrome,
Slick Rick,
Gang Starr,
Circle Jerks,
Spoonie Gee,
Con Funk Shun,
Sex Pistols,
Johnny Clarke,
Bobby Womack,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Index,
Marine Girls,
Symarip,
Thompson Twins,
Hot Snakes,
Hoover,
Thee Headcoats,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Monks,
Sugar Minott,
Kas Product,
The Smoke,
The Music Machine,
Dead Boys,
Matthew Halsall,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Albert Ayler,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Toni Rubio,
Moss Icon,
Cheater Slicks,
Radiohead,
James White and The Blacks,
Inner City,
Sexual Harrassment,
Stockholm Monsters,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
In Retrospect,
Terrestrial Tones,
the Swans,
The Divine Comedy,
F. McDonald,
Model 500,
Don Cherry,
The Misunderstood,
Stereo Dub,
The Human League,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Scrapy,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Blackbyrds,
Lalo Schifrin,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Invisible,
The Motions,
The Trojans,
Los Fastidios,
Ash Ra Tempel, Ash Ra Tempel, Ash Ra Tempel, Ash Ra Tempel.
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.