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 Uganda and from Jakarta.
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 1966 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Lagos.
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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Residents to the rock kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Saints. All the underground hits.
All F. McDonald tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Beasts of Bourbon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Star Department,
Blossom Toes,
Symarip,
The Red Krayola,
Roxette,
Man Eating Sloth,
Gang of Four,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
John Foxx,
the Bar-Kays,
Suburban Knight,
Pierre Henry,
Ice-T,
the Slits,
Steve Hackett,
Trumans Water,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Birthday Party,
the Sonics,
Audionom,
Freddie Wadling,
8 Eyed Spy,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Godley & Creme,
Wings,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Urselle,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Jawbox,
Stereo Dub,
Ten City,
Das Ding,
DNA,
The Index,
Todd Terry,
Spoonie Gee,
Depeche Mode,
Ken Boothe,
Kerri Chandler,
Yellowson,
Sällskapet,
Public Enemy,
Quando Quango,
Hashim,
Qualms,
Curtis Mayfield,
Cal Tjader,
Barrington Levy,
cv313,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Mark Hollis,
Pere Ubu,
Jeff Lynne,
James White and The Blacks,
Arab on Radar,
In Retrospect,
Isaac Hayes,
David Bowie,
Infiniti,
Deakin,
The Monochrome Set,
The Flesh Eaters,
Crime,
The Doobie Brothers, The Doobie Brothers, The Doobie Brothers, The Doobie Brothers.
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.