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 Monaco and from Salvador.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 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 Barrington Levy to the disco 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 Clear Light. All the underground hits.
All The Count Five tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jesper Dahlback record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 sitar and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Man Parrish record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Moby Grape,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Aaron Thompson,
Eli Mardock,
EPMD,
Fatback Band,
New Age Steppers,
Hashim,
K-Klass,
Bootsy Collins,
Minor Threat,
Rod Modell,
Lightning Bolt,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Henry Cow,
Ultra Naté,
Second Layer,
Byron Stingily,
Negative Approach,
Thee Headcoats,
Amon Düül,
Pussy Galore,
Rekid,
Wally Richardson,
Erykah Badu,
Little Man,
Reuben Wilson,
Wasted Youth,
Mission of Burma,
Young Marble Giants,
The Young Rascals,
Cecil Taylor,
The Raincoats,
Blake Baxter,
These Immortal Souls,
Wings,
the Bar-Kays,
Toni Rubio,
Nation of Ulysses,
Laurel Aitken,
Gil Scott Heron,
Altered Images,
Charles Mingus,
Severed Heads,
The Shadows of Knight,
Deadbeat,
Silicon Teens,
B.T. Express,
Marmalade,
Agent Orange,
The American Breed,
The Smiths,
F. McDonald,
Scott Walker,
PIL,
Ornette Coleman,
Peter and Kerry,
Gang Gang Dance,
Derrick Morgan,
the Swans,
JFA,
Lou Christie,
Oblivians, Oblivians, Oblivians, Oblivians.
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.