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 Finland and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 rhodes 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 Eden Ahbez to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud. All the underground hits.
All Crash Course in Science tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Litter record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 sitar and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marine Girls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nico,
Popol Vuh,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Sonics,
The Barracudas,
Half Japanese,
Radiohead,
Black Bananas,
World's Most,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Von Mondo,
Minor Threat,
Archie Shepp,
Loose Ends,
Television Personalities,
Eddi Front,
Aural Exciters,
Average White Band,
Metal Thangz,
Roy Ayers,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Isaac Hayes,
The Gap Band,
Stereo Dub,
Liliput,
The Dirtbombs,
Ken Boothe,
The Residents,
Lightning Bolt,
Fela Kuti,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Arcadia,
Minutemen,
Man Eating Sloth,
Johnny Osbourne,
Newcleus,
Sugar Minott,
Section 25,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
New Order,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Names,
Sun City Girls,
Young Marble Giants,
Andrew Hill,
Spoonie Gee,
Mantronix,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Technova,
Magma,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Arthur Verocai,
Lalann,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Vladislav Delay,
a-ha,
Mary Jane Girls,
AZ,
Sight & Sound,
Angry Samoans,
Sparks,
Pantytec,
Lou Christie,
Fatback Band, Fatback Band, Fatback Band, Fatback Band.
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.