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 Nicaragua and from Shanghai.
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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 arpeggiator 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 Gerry Rafferty to the crunk 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 Livin' Joy. All the underground hits.
All Selector Dub Narcotic tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Vladislav Delay record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marshall Jefferson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Suicide,
Traffic Nightmare,
Hasil Adkins,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Monks,
Livin' Joy,
Alton Ellis,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
8 Eyed Spy,
Chris & Cosey,
The Flesh Eaters,
Terrestrial Tones,
China Crisis,
Rhythm & Sound,
Loose Ends,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
the Association,
Byron Stingily,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Faraquet,
Gang Green,
Black Moon,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Ohio Players,
Schoolly D,
Robert Hood,
Nick Fraelich,
Joyce Sims,
The Vogues,
The Durutti Column,
Kevin Saunderson,
Bobby Sherman,
the Bar-Kays,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Cramps,
Motorama,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Slits,
Lightning Bolt,
Steve Hackett,
The Moody Blues,
Mantronix,
Kerri Chandler,
Visage,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Q and Not U,
Magma,
Dave Gahan,
Fat Boys,
The Mummies,
Joey Negro,
Freddie Wadling,
Drive Like Jehu,
DNA,
The New Christs,
Flipper,
Alice Coltrane,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Soft Cell,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Sam Rivers,
Bad Manners,
The Evens,
The Searchers, The Searchers, The Searchers, The Searchers.
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.