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 Cape Verde and from Taipei.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 organ 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 KRS-One to the crunk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Slackers. All the underground hits.
All Black Bananas tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Outsiders record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lightning Bolt record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Smiths,
Nils Olav,
Altered Images,
The Walker Brothers,
Spoonie Gee,
Rod Modell,
The Martian,
Rapeman,
Soft Cell,
Bauhaus,
The Invisible,
Bill Wells,
Angry Samoans,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Sällskapet,
Quantec,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Rosa Yemen,
Von Mondo,
Flamin' Groovies,
Glambeats Corp.,
Hardrive,
Nick Fraelich,
Index,
Wolf Eyes,
The American Breed,
Ultra Naté,
Eric Dolphy,
Deadbeat,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Henry Cow,
Duran Duran,
Nico,
Bobby Sherman,
Bobby Byrd,
Sparks,
New York Dolls,
The Misunderstood,
Sun City Girls,
Suicide,
Soulsonic Force,
The Fire Engines,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Skaos,
Crispy Ambulance,
Minutemen,
Glenn Branca,
John Foxx,
Yusef Lateef,
Robert Görl,
The Cramps,
Banda Bassotti,
Gabor Szabo,
Circle Jerks,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Red Krayola,
Severed Heads,
8 Eyed Spy,
Mr. Review,
Blancmange,
Sugar Minott, Sugar Minott, Sugar Minott, Sugar Minott.
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.