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 Spain and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Quantec to the rock 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 F. McDonald. All the underground hits.
All Brass Construction tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The New Christs record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a OOIOO record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Janne Schatter,
Lyres,
Scratch Acid,
Toni Rubio,
Sarah Menescal,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Gerry Rafferty,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Q65,
X-Ray Spex,
Scott Walker,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Cymande,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Divine Comedy,
Unwound,
Boogie Down Productions,
Freddie Wadling,
The Music Machine,
Tres Demented,
Fatback Band,
The Seeds,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Tomorrow,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Boz Scaggs,
Mandrill,
The Dead C,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Reuben Wilson,
Wolf Eyes,
Make Up,
Dark Day,
DJ Sneak,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Eric Dolphy,
Magma,
Althea and Donna,
Drive Like Jehu,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Whodini,
Lakeside,
Blancmange,
The Birthday Party,
the Normal,
8 Eyed Spy,
Jerry's Kids,
James White and The Blacks,
Youth Brigade,
Alison Limerick,
Goldenarms,
The Selecter,
Neu!,
Agent Orange,
Negative Approach,
Trumans Water,
Suicide,
Hashim,
Gang Green,
Blake Baxter,
The Gladiators,
Peter & Gordon,
The Moleskins,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs, Notorious Big And Bone Thugs, Notorious Big And Bone Thugs, Notorious Big And Bone Thugs.
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.