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 Mauritania and from Copenhagen.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and London.
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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Martian 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 Associates. All the underground hits.
All Gabor Szabo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Public Image Ltd. 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 mellotron and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Drexciya record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Tremeloes,
R.M.O.,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Scion,
Harpers Bizarre,
Lebanon Hanover,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Lindisfarne,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Ken Boothe,
Ronan,
Audionom,
Desert Stars,
Joyce Sims,
Soft Cell,
Bush Tetras,
The Cramps,
Aural Exciters,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Mojo Men,
Pagans,
The Smoke,
Janne Schatter,
Public Enemy,
These Immortal Souls,
The Techniques,
Nils Olav,
The Star Department,
James White and The Blacks,
World's Most,
Boredoms,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
UT,
Rites of Spring,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Essential Logic,
Symarip,
Terrestrial Tones,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Man Parrish,
Icehouse,
Q and Not U,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Zeros,
Sun Ra,
Eric B and Rakim,
Max Romeo,
Duran Duran,
Pet Shop Boys,
Gil Scott Heron,
John Coltrane,
Bobby Sherman,
The Slackers,
Nas,
Avey Tare,
The Durutti Column,
The Electric Prunes,
Hoover,
Thee Headcoats,
Lyres,
Ice-T,
The Gun Club, The Gun Club, The Gun Club, The Gun Club.
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.