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 Taiwan and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Oblivians to the rock kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Archie Shepp. All the underground hits.
All Bluetip tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marmalade record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Bar-Kays record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Dirtbombs,
Kenny Larkin,
Smog,
Joy Division,
Adolescents,
Davy DMX,
Joe Smooth,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Evens,
Barclay James Harvest,
Sight & Sound,
Rites of Spring,
Suburban Knight,
Nils Olav,
Zapp,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Warren Ellis,
Susan Cadogan,
Lightning Bolt,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Scott Walker,
The Gladiators,
Qualms,
Eddi Front,
The Fire Engines,
X-Ray Spex,
Chris & Cosey,
Janne Schatter,
Scrapy,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Dorothy Ashby,
John Holt,
The Toasters,
The Last Poets,
8 Eyed Spy,
Michelle Simonal,
Dark Day,
Brick,
Oblivians,
Lower 48,
Bobby Byrd,
Ultimate Spinach,
Laurel Aitken,
The Neon Judgement,
Make Up,
Ossler,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Jeru the Damaja,
Blake Baxter,
Rosa Yemen,
Magma,
Josef K,
The Residents,
Flash Fearless,
Sällskapet,
David Axelrod,
Second Layer,
Electric Prunes,
Man Parrish, Man Parrish, Man Parrish, Man Parrish.
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.