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 Gambia and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 theremin 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 Kurtis Blow to the grime kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Arcadia. All the underground hits.
All Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sun Ra 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scan 7 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Public Image Ltd.,
Aswad,
Q and Not U,
James White and The Blacks,
Sam Rivers,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Star Department,
The Gun Club,
Monks,
Mars,
Faust,
Eddi Front,
Juan Atkins,
Cybotron,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Quantec,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Pantytec,
K-Klass,
The Monochrome Set,
Angry Samoans,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Matthew Bourne,
Maleditus Sound,
Traffic Nightmare,
Supertramp,
Niagra,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Porter Ricks,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Grey Daturas,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Jacques Brel,
Inner City,
Mandrill,
Bang On A Can,
Soulsonic Force,
Brothers Johnson,
Rosa Yemen,
The Barracudas,
Curtis Mayfield,
Arthur Verocai,
Pet Shop Boys,
KRS-One,
Colin Newman,
The Misunderstood,
Deepchord,
Flipper,
Kurtis Blow,
The Sonics,
Arcadia,
Tubeway Army,
Peter & Gordon,
Lucky Dragons,
Flamin' Groovies,
Gang Gang Dance,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Outsiders,
Suicide,
Sugar Minott,
EPMD,
Unwound, Unwound, Unwound, Unwound.
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.