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 Equatorial Guinea and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Pussy Galore to the dance 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 Bob Dylan. All the underground hits.
All Bobby Sherman tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mr. Review 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Traffic Nightmare record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
the Bar-Kays,
Cybotron,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Funky Four + One,
Kayak,
Average White Band,
Public Image Ltd.,
Lakeside,
Bush Tetras,
Derrick May,
John Coltrane,
Easy Going,
The Beau Brummels,
Jacques Brel,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Golliwogs,
Japan,
Eric B and Rakim,
Soul Sonic Force,
Porter Ricks,
K-Klass,
Lou Christie,
Lindisfarne,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Grass Roots,
Nas,
Lucky Dragons,
Index,
Deadbeat,
Dual Sessions,
Pet Shop Boys,
10cc,
John Lydon,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Marmalade,
Q and Not U,
Rufus Thomas,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
New York Dolls,
Pylon,
LL Cool J,
X-102,
The Invisible,
AZ,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Sparks,
The Mummies,
Nick Fraelich,
Junior Murvin,
Banda Bassotti,
Smog,
Bootsy Collins,
Jandek,
Young Marble Giants,
Roxy Music,
The Trojans,
a-ha,
Severed Heads,
The Associates,
The Fortunes,
Gang Starr,
Black Flag,
the Sonics,
ABC, ABC, ABC, ABC.
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.