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 Georgia and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 Robert Palmer 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 Junior Murvin to the punk 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 Dawn Penn. All the underground hits.
All Don Cherry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Public Image Ltd. 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fugs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Bananas,
Crooked Eye,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Y Pants,
Can,
Marmalade,
Wolf Eyes,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The New Christs,
Fugazi,
Juan Atkins,
Boogie Down Productions,
Bill Wells,
Mission of Burma,
Zapp,
Spoonie Gee,
ABC,
T. Rex,
Danielle Patucci,
Todd Terry,
The Index,
Drexciya,
Ludus,
Delta 5,
Marcia Griffiths,
Rites of Spring,
DJ Sneak,
L. Decosne,
Country Teasers,
Dark Day,
Mr. Review,
Man Parrish,
Aloha Tigers,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Isaac Hayes,
Warren Ellis,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Essential Logic,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Pretty Things,
Glambeats Corp.,
John Lydon,
Easy Going,
Liliput,
Joe Finger,
Chris Corsano,
Los Fastidios,
Faust,
The Associates,
Sällskapet,
Electric Prunes,
Quantec,
Japan,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Parry Music,
Bang On A Can,
The Real Kids,
The Last Poets,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Deakin, Deakin, Deakin, Deakin.
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.