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 Colombia and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Sao Paulo.
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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Derrick May to the funk 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 Television Personalities. All the underground hits.
All Theoretical Girls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jesper Dahlbäck record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Barbara Tucker record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Electric Prunes,
Cymande,
Robert Hood,
Sex Pistols,
X-Ray Spex,
The Dirtbombs,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Thompson Twins,
Loose Ends,
Pantaleimon,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Al Stewart,
Tommy Roe,
EPMD,
T.S.O.L.,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Oneida,
Anthony Braxton,
Eric Dolphy,
Crooked Eye,
Symarip,
The Flesh Eaters,
Technova,
Joey Negro,
Susan Cadogan,
The Buckinghams,
Sun Ra,
The Human League,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Y Pants,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Bad Manners,
The Grass Roots,
Eddi Front,
Roy Ayers,
Main Source,
The Slackers,
Bluetip,
Donny Hathaway,
L. Decosne,
Crime,
Q and Not U,
Quadrant,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Red Krayola,
Pere Ubu,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Mission of Burma,
Ultravox,
Country Joe & The Fish,
In Retrospect,
Gang Starr,
Bill Wells,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Bauhaus,
The Litter,
Marc Almond,
Toni Rubio,
The American Breed,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
John Coltrane,
Sandy B, Sandy B, Sandy B, Sandy B.
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.