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 Bulgaria and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Essential Logic to the disco kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Eyeless In Gaza. All the underground hits.
All Drive Like Jehu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Boogie Down Productions record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Pop Group record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator 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?
Eve St. Jones,
The Dead C,
Lou Christie,
Pole,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Tremeloes,
Scion,
X-Ray Spex,
The Techniques,
Boogie Down Productions,
Model 500,
Hoover,
Marmalade,
Harpers Bizarre,
Peter & Gordon,
Althea and Donna,
DJ Style,
The Remains,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
LL Cool J,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Sexual Harrassment,
Moebius,
Parry Music,
Todd Rundgren,
Sonny Sharrock,
MC5,
Warren Ellis,
Patti Smith,
Delta 5,
Don Cherry,
The Count Five,
The Happenings,
Bootsy Collins,
JFA,
John Cale,
Lungfish,
Camberwell Now,
Vainqueur,
Harry Pussy,
The Raincoats,
Masters at Work,
Letta Mbulu,
The Wake,
Ornette Coleman,
Idris Muhammad,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Cheater Slicks,
Zapp,
Radiopuhelimet,
Bobby Sherman,
Kevin Saunderson,
Reuben Wilson,
Con Funk Shun,
The Pretty Things,
Aural Exciters,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Urselle,
Carl Craig,
Drive Like Jehu,
Prince Buster,
The Grass Roots,
Minny Pops,
Warsaw, Warsaw, Warsaw, Warsaw.
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.