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 Congo and from Manchester.
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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 spring reverb 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 Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam to the crunk 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 Girls At Our Best!. All the underground hits.
All Lucky Dragons tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crime record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pet Shop Boys record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum 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 Mighty Diamonds,
Saccharine Trust,
The Selecter,
Althea and Donna,
Letta Mbulu,
The Human League,
The Moleskins,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Porter Ricks,
Interpol,
Ituana,
Wally Richardson,
The Victims,
Tim Buckley,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Thompson Twins,
Don Cherry,
Derrick May,
Pet Shop Boys,
Faust,
Electric Prunes,
These Immortal Souls,
Neu!,
Boredoms,
Sixth Finger,
Hot Snakes,
The Fall,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Goldenarms,
Eric Dolphy,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Index,
Animal Collective,
ABC,
Television Personalities,
The Birthday Party,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
James White and The Blacks,
Con Funk Shun,
Malaria!,
A Flock of Seagulls,
EPMD,
The Buckinghams,
Charles Mingus,
Roy Ayers,
DJ Sneak,
Joe Finger,
The Pop Group,
Ken Boothe,
Buzzcocks,
Tommy Roe,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Kool Moe Dee,
Black Pus,
The Detroit Cobras,
Mantronix,
The Angels of Light,
Glenn Branca,
Idris Muhammad,
Metal Thangz,
The Doors, The Doors, The Doors, The Doors.
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.