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 Tajikistan and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 linndrum 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 Todd Rundgren to the crunk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 New Christs. All the underground hits.
All It's A Beautiful Day tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Offenders record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 theremin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mandrill record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jeff Mills,
Barbara Tucker,
Youth Brigade,
Intrusion,
The Golliwogs,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Black Flag,
Pole,
Newcleus,
Spoonie Gee,
The Litter,
Ultra Naté,
Japan,
John Lydon,
Sam Rivers,
Skriet,
Chris & Cosey,
Boz Scaggs,
Whodini,
Grandmaster Flash,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Don Cherry,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Hasil Adkins,
Audionom,
Crime,
Minutemen,
Bobby Byrd,
Letta Mbulu,
The Mummies,
Lightning Bolt,
The Fall,
Bootsy Collins,
The Smiths,
John Holt,
New York Dolls,
Kenny Larkin,
Steve Hackett,
David McCallum,
10cc,
Howard Jones,
kango's stein massive,
X-101,
Neu!,
Joensuu 1685,
Radio Birdman,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
the Bar-Kays,
The Cramps,
Suicide,
Radiohead,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Livin' Joy,
Royal Trux,
D'Angelo,
Flash Fearless,
Rapeman,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Barracudas,
The Divine Comedy, The Divine Comedy, The Divine Comedy, The Divine Comedy.
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.