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 Madagascar and from Milan.
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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Aloha Tigers to the techno kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Cosmic Jokers. All the underground hits.
All Pet Shop Boys tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Chrome 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sad Lovers and Giants record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro 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?
Jacques Brel,
ABBA,
Albert Ayler,
Johnny Clarke,
Gang of Four,
Pole,
Donald Byrd,
Piero Umiliani,
Half Japanese,
Bronski Beat,
Harry Pussy,
Robert Görl,
Susan Cadogan,
Juan Atkins,
Monks,
Pharoah Sanders,
Frankie Knuckles,
Marine Girls,
Hasil Adkins,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
10cc,
Scientists,
Stiv Bators,
Duran Duran,
Surgeon,
Unwound,
Idris Muhammad,
David Axelrod,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Dead C,
Crispy Ambulance,
Black Bananas,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Oneida,
New Order,
Joy Division,
Ultra Naté,
Sandy B,
Big Daddy Kane,
David McCallum,
June of 44,
Stereo Dub,
Lungfish,
Masters at Work,
Toni Rubio,
kango's stein massive,
EPMD,
The Moleskins,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Glenn Branca,
Lyres,
Pulsallama,
Eve St. Jones,
Monolake,
The Seeds,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Happenings,
In Retrospect,
John Holt,
Angry Samoans,
Inner City, Inner City, Inner City, Inner City.
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.