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 Comoros and from Jakarta.
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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 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 Eli Mardock to the rock kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 The Misunderstood. All the underground hits.
All Ultra Naté tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Red Lorry Yellow Lorry record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lungfish record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
DJ Sneak,
New Order,
Magazine,
Nils Olav,
Amazonics,
Agent Orange,
Gang Starr,
D'Angelo,
The Sound,
Lyres,
X-Ray Spex,
Hasil Adkins,
The Standells,
The Vogues,
Dennis Brown,
Vainqueur,
Tropical Tobacco,
Suicide,
Drexciya,
Can,
Sarah Menescal,
Carl Craig,
The Birthday Party,
John Coltrane,
Stereo Dub,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Mummies,
Jandek,
Ohio Players,
Deakin,
Roxy Music,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Throbbing Gristle,
Mo-Dettes,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Roger Hodgson,
Deadbeat,
Aswad,
Gang of Four,
The Toasters,
Amon Düül,
Brothers Johnson,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Derrick May,
Robert Wyatt,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Parry Music,
Yaz,
Scientists,
Kaleidoscope,
Quadrant,
Monolake,
Ralphi Rosario,
Lower 48,
Hashim,
kango's stein massive,
Sun City Girls,
Television Personalities,
Josef K,
Pussy Galore,
The Leaves,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Warsaw, Warsaw, Warsaw, Warsaw.
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.