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 India and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1969 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Cal Tjader to the grunge 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 Amon Düül. All the underground hits.
All Bang On A Can tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scion record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 808 and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Outsiders record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Trumans Water,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Crash Course in Science,
Gang of Four,
Jacques Brel,
The Residents,
The Offenders,
Zero Boys,
Yusef Lateef,
Kevin Saunderson,
Depeche Mode,
Severed Heads,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Drexciya,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Reagan Youth,
The Knickerbockers,
Jacob Miller,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Peter & Gordon,
Warren Ellis,
the Human League,
Royal Trux,
ABC,
Malaria!,
The Birthday Party,
Livin' Joy,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Nation of Ulysses,
Boredoms,
Roxy Music,
Spoonie Gee,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Anakelly,
Junior Murvin,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Five Americans,
Swell Maps,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Cymande,
The Trojans,
Maurizio,
Gastr Del Sol,
Eden Ahbez,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Black Moon,
Scott Walker,
Pulsallama,
Duran Duran,
Glenn Branca,
Sun City Girls,
Niagra,
The Invisible,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Amazonics,
Lyres,
Mr. Review,
Mandrill,
H. Thieme,
the Slits, the Slits, the Slits, the Slits.
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.