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 South Africa and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Susan Cadogan to the rock kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade. All the underground hits.
All James White and The Blacks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Alphaville record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a De La Soul & Jungle Brothers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
B.T. Express,
Drexciya,
Byron Stingily,
UT,
Joe Finger,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Don Cherry,
Thompson Twins,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Detroit Cobras,
Sex Pistols,
Clear Light,
Iggy Pop,
The Shadows of Knight,
Talk Talk,
Royal Trux,
The Divine Comedy,
Nirvana,
Radiopuhelimet,
F. McDonald,
Donald Byrd,
The Young Rascals,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Excepter,
Model 500,
Shuggie Otis,
Grandmaster Flash,
Altered Images,
The American Breed,
David Axelrod,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Nik Kershaw,
Animal Collective,
Alphaville,
Crispian St. Peters,
Godley & Creme,
the Human League,
Niagra,
The Saints,
Lower 48,
U.S. Maple,
Siglo XX,
Spoonie Gee,
This Heat,
The Names,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Stiv Bators,
Zero Boys,
Public Enemy,
Arcadia,
The Last Poets,
Mandrill,
The Remains,
Crash Course in Science,
In Retrospect,
the Germs,
Sarah Menescal,
PIL,
Audionom,
Patti Smith,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Victims,
James Chance & The Contortions, James Chance & The Contortions, James Chance & The Contortions, James Chance & The Contortions.
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.