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 San Marino and from Manila.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Manila.
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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Be Bop Deluxe to the techno kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 The Royal Family And The Poor. All the underground hits.
All Gang Gang Dance tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gabor Szabo record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Litter record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mo-Dettes,
Aaron Thompson,
The Skatalites,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Sisters of Mercy,
the Human League,
Cluster,
the Sonics,
Howard Jones,
The Fugs,
Mary Jane Girls,
Matthew Bourne,
Nico,
Pagans,
Andrew Hill,
The Modern Lovers,
China Crisis,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Unwound,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Fad Gadget,
Angry Samoans,
Alice Coltrane,
The Fuzztones,
Don Cherry,
Amazonics,
Crispian St. Peters,
Althea and Donna,
Desert Stars,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Barry Ungar,
Joensuu 1685,
The Black Dice,
Sandy B,
Q65,
H. Thieme,
The Seeds,
John Holt,
Mantronix,
Altered Images,
Hasil Adkins,
Visage,
Schoolly D,
A Certain Ratio,
Nirvana,
Jacques Brel,
Crash Course in Science,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Black Bananas,
Groovy Waters,
Rufus Thomas,
Eli Mardock,
Toni Rubio,
Derrick Morgan,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Duran Duran,
Sister Nancy,
Lakeside,
Connie Case, Connie Case, Connie Case, Connie Case.
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.