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 Guinea and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Columbus.
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 1970 at the first Onyeabor practice in a loft in Enugu.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Sly & The Family Stone to the crunk 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 Eve St. Jones. All the underground hits.
All Lafayette Afro Rock Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scientists 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sexual Harrassment record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kerrie Biddell,
Mark Hollis,
The Flesh Eaters,
Trumans Water,
Rosa Yemen,
The Zeros,
Nico,
Wolf Eyes,
Crime,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Warsaw,
Fatback Band,
Brick,
Judy Mowatt,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Skatalites,
Derrick Morgan,
ABBA,
Slave,
Anakelly,
Monolake,
John Coltrane,
Second Layer,
Tomorrow,
Newcleus,
Tubeway Army,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Fluxion,
Gabor Szabo,
Gang Starr,
Chris Corsano,
Roy Ayers,
Gichy Dan,
Barrington Levy,
Ultra Naté,
Scion,
Sonny Sharrock,
Procol Harum,
Delta 5,
Livin' Joy,
The Fire Engines,
Bob Dylan,
Adolescents,
Subhumans,
Sarah Menescal,
Public Enemy,
John Foxx,
the Sonics,
The Mojo Men,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Real Kids,
Marcia Griffiths,
Jacob Miller,
Masters at Work,
Junior Murvin,
Moss Icon,
Jeff Mills,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Franke,
Davy DMX,
The Trojans, The Trojans, The Trojans, The Trojans.
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.