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 Nauru and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 sitar 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 Sixth Finger to the jazz 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 John Holt. All the underground hits.
All Rosa Yemen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Y Pants 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Vogues record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Wake,
Buzzcocks,
Mr. Review,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Walker Brothers,
Altered Images,
Skaos,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
the Slits,
Parry Music,
Franke,
Motorama,
Alphaville,
Groovy Waters,
The Dead C,
The Smiths,
The Trojans,
Essential Logic,
The Busters,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Eric Dolphy,
Fad Gadget,
Fugazi,
Sexual Harrassment,
Outsiders,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Offenders,
One Last Wish,
Circle Jerks,
Josef K,
World's Most,
the Normal,
Marine Girls,
T. Rex,
The Fall,
Pere Ubu,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Robert Görl,
DJ Sneak,
Scrapy,
Crooked Eye,
Ossler,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Inner City,
Stetsasonic,
Big Daddy Kane,
Jeff Lynne,
a-ha,
The Golliwogs,
ABC,
Grauzone,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Glambeats Corp.,
Sex Pistols,
Bobby Sherman,
the Soft Cell,
Soul Sonic Force,
Ultravox,
Peter and Kerry,
Blake Baxter, Blake Baxter, Blake Baxter, Blake Baxter.
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.