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 Serbia and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 organ 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 Richard Hell and the Voidoids to the rock kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band. All the underground hits.
All Qualms tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every OOIOO record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 marimba and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Human League record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
D'Angelo,
The Electric Prunes,
Eurythmics,
Wire,
Kerrie Biddell,
Lou Reed,
Tres Demented,
Inner City,
Masters at Work,
Ten City,
Stereo Dub,
Nas,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Tropical Tobacco,
Spoonie Gee,
Fatback Band,
The Blackbyrds,
Brothers Johnson,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Eddi Front,
Donald Byrd,
the Slits,
Kurtis Blow,
Rites of Spring,
The Mummies,
James White and The Blacks,
K-Klass,
Johnny Clarke,
Soft Machine,
Pharoah Sanders,
Groovy Waters,
Sister Nancy,
Rosa Yemen,
Siglo XX,
FM Einheit,
Make Up,
the Sonics,
Television,
Moby Grape,
Minutemen,
Black Pus,
Althea and Donna,
Hashim,
Oblivians,
Niagra,
Erasure,
Mo-Dettes,
Whodini,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Remains,
The Monks,
Charles Mingus,
Ken Boothe,
The Leaves,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Sonic Youth,
Underground Resistance,
The Searchers,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Severed Heads,
Icehouse,
The Five Americans, The Five Americans, The Five Americans, The Five Americans.
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.