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 Morocco and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 chamberlin 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 The Leaves to the grime 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 Junior Murvin. All the underground hits.
All Joe Finger tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Drive Like Jehu record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 an arpeggiator and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Porter Ricks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Hardrive,
Bill Wells,
Scientists,
The Associates,
Negative Approach,
Stockholm Monsters,
Sandy B,
Danielle Patucci,
Angry Samoans,
Gastr Del Sol,
Con Funk Shun,
Scratch Acid,
The Saints,
The Wake,
Rakim,
Sparks,
Alphaville,
Eli Mardock,
Fear,
Todd Rundgren,
John Lydon,
the Slits,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Aloha Tigers,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Techniques,
The Moleskins,
Livin' Joy,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Seeds,
AZ,
Ituana,
Joe Finger,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Morten Harket,
Letta Mbulu,
Peter and Kerry,
Ornette Coleman,
Pierre Henry,
The Flesh Eaters,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Drexciya,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Mad Mike,
Davy DMX,
Wasted Youth,
Soft Cell,
Procol Harum,
LL Cool J,
Echospace,
Tommy Roe,
Isaac Hayes,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Electric Prunes,
The Toasters,
Mission of Burma,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Max Romeo,
Cluster,
Jacques Brel,
Magazine,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The American Breed, The American Breed, The American Breed, The American Breed.
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.