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 Nauru and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 marimba 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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 James Chance & The Contortions. All the underground hits.
All Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every DJ Sneak record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nirvana record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Gang of Four,
Idris Muhammad,
a-ha,
Yellowson,
Skarface,
Reuben Wilson,
B.T. Express,
Cybotron,
DJ Style,
The American Breed,
Gerry Rafferty,
Simply Red,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Count Five,
Yusef Lateef,
Arab on Radar,
Inner City,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Dave Clark Five,
Can,
Sunsets and Hearts,
JFA,
Avey Tare,
Parry Music,
48th St. Collective,
Leonard Cohen,
Don Cherry,
John Cale,
Wolf Eyes,
Alphaville,
Duran Duran,
Barrington Levy,
Big Daddy Kane,
Marshall Jefferson,
Chris Corsano,
Babytalk,
The Residents,
Adolescents,
The Modern Lovers,
Minor Threat,
Bluetip,
Suicide,
Infiniti,
The Gap Band,
Black Flag,
Ossler,
Marcia Griffiths,
Jandek,
F. McDonald,
Sun Ra,
The Saints,
Rakim,
Susan Cadogan,
The Moleskins,
Blossom Toes,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Altered Images,
Spoonie Gee, Spoonie Gee, Spoonie Gee, Spoonie Gee.
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.