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 Nigeria and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1969 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 808 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 Joe Smooth to the grime kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 De La Soul & Jungle Brothers. All the underground hits.
All The Cure tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Skriet record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Agent Orange record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Animal Collective,
Brick,
Girls At Our Best!,
Ultimate Spinach,
Scan 7,
Sandy B,
China Crisis,
Todd Rundgren,
Matthew Bourne,
The Skatalites,
The Gun Club,
Goldenarms,
Lucky Dragons,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Ralphi Rosario,
Scrapy,
Fatback Band,
Swell Maps,
Chris Corsano,
Donny Hathaway,
Rosa Yemen,
Warsaw,
the Slits,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Basic Channel,
Mary Jane Girls,
Make Up,
Yaz,
Josef K,
Shuggie Otis,
Byron Stingily,
Glambeats Corp.,
Crispy Ambulance,
Newcleus,
Barclay James Harvest,
DJ Sneak,
Ken Boothe,
Ohio Players,
Yazoo,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Angry Samoans,
The Mummies,
Pulsallama,
Matthew Halsall,
the Normal,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
New Age Steppers,
Iggy Pop,
Harry Pussy,
The Invisible,
Boredoms,
The Mojo Men,
Pole,
Tomorrow,
Wolf Eyes,
Pere Ubu,
The Monks,
Gichy Dan,
Sex Pistols,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Wasted Youth,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Eric Copeland, Eric Copeland, Eric Copeland, Eric Copeland.
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.