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 Guinea-Bissau and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Sonny Sharrock 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 The Mojo Men. All the underground hits.
All R.M.O. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Royal Family And The Poor record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Strawberry Alarm Clock record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bang On A Can,
X-101,
Con Funk Shun,
Black Sheep,
Ultravox,
Ten City,
Eden Ahbez,
The Cure,
Pierre Henry,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Bootsy Collins,
the Sonics,
The Dead C,
Brand Nubian,
Blake Baxter,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Chrome,
Bauhaus,
Warren Ellis,
Sight & Sound,
Ponytail,
Funkadelic,
Desert Stars,
Popol Vuh,
Liliput,
The Red Krayola,
Parry Music,
Talk Talk,
Pere Ubu,
Johnny Clarke,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Black Dice,
T. Rex,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Icehouse,
Unrelated Segments,
Terry Callier,
Buzzcocks,
Lou Christie,
AZ,
The Moleskins,
Scratch Acid,
The Golliwogs,
Matthew Halsall,
Big Daddy Kane,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Count Five,
Wings,
Todd Terry,
Jerry's Kids,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Monochrome Set,
The Seeds,
Cecil Taylor,
Mary Jane Girls,
Jacques Brel,
The Searchers,
Lucky Dragons,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Reagan Youth,
Tres Demented, Tres Demented, Tres Demented, Tres Demented.
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.