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 India and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 Woodstock and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Connie Case to the grime kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Siglo XX. All the underground hits.
All World's Most tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Flag 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sixth Finger record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Grey Daturas,
Tubeway Army,
The Stooges,
Underground Resistance,
The Blues Magoos,
Quando Quango,
Anakelly,
Grauzone,
Lou Reed,
The Detroit Cobras,
Pantytec,
Index,
Minnie Riperton,
the Sonics,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Infiniti,
Ice-T,
Ronnie Foster,
Unwound,
David Bowie,
Amazonics,
Hoover,
Depeche Mode,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Bobby Hutcherson,
the Fania All-Stars,
Roy Ayers,
Theoretical Girls,
The New Christs,
Agent Orange,
Inner City,
Minor Threat,
Yaz,
Donald Byrd,
John Foxx,
Jacob Miller,
Camouflage,
The Beau Brummels,
Lower 48,
The Selecter,
Soft Cell,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Monks,
MC5,
Wolf Eyes,
Gang Gang Dance,
Fatback Band,
Masters at Work,
The Vogues,
Derrick May,
Marmalade,
The Searchers,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Lyres,
Aloha Tigers,
The Gun Club,
Liliput,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Cowsills,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Khruangbin,
Curtis Mayfield, Curtis Mayfield, Curtis Mayfield, Curtis Mayfield.
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.